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When everything seemed as if it would come down upon then, some sudden mission he hadn't even been aware he was in and was now going to die in, the blue waves of flames came. Light blue could either be good or bad, as it reminded him of glowing blue eyes, but on the same time, the blue of runics and Hunters. This time, it was Hunters, and he was glad that, just in time, they were getting backup. Backup to a situation none of them had wanted, be warned about, and had been tossed in without an idea of why.

As the insects rained down, falling like great towers to crash into the sands and scatter, a few popping from the fire that engulfed them, he turned to Rin and, grabbing her wrist (as her hand was occupied by a weapon), he started to run. The sand was still an obstacle, hard to trudge through, and as limbs, arms, and heads of insects fell, they had to move around to get to the portal, being urged on by the Hunters arriving in to help.

The ground shook, and a spray of sand washed over him, followed by a rush of fire. Then - his hand was empty.

Panicing, he turned to see that Rin was on the ground, blue flames dancing on her coat. "Rin!" Rushing over, he patted her body, wiping away dead and half-alive insects before pulling her up. Behind her, he wrapped a arm around her and shoved her hard to push her with all his might to the portal. He followed after, and arrived at the other end.

Breathing deep, he coughed from the smoke before looking around. On the lawn, he looked and found Rin. Unmoving. "Rin!"

Rushing over, he turned her on her back, pulling his gloves off to press a hand to her neck and bent down to feel her breathing. Slightly - but breathing.

Life Hunters were already on the field, but he knew he could help. Picking Rin up, he went to where they were taking on the Hunters, letting those who weren't able to move, who didn't have someone to help, be taken care by the others.

It suddenly didn't matter that he was trying to get some fabric to cover his wound. There was no point to this, was there? He'd seen enough to know that those who weren't already dead and dying would be very shortly. The girl above him whose name he didn't know would likely be next, especially since she was a sitting target with him. At best he would live long enough to see the kind girl die...

The world suddenly turned a weird shade of blue, which really did nothing for the already confused Ripley. This was it, then? He was going to die, wasn't he? He was vaguely aware of someone shooing Pandora away and pulling him to his feet, something pressed against his neck to continue to stave off the bleeding. Flames licked his limbs and clothing, and his eratic breathing only helped pull the smoke into his lungs. He couldn't feel his legs under him and he had no clue if he was walking or being dragged, but somehow it was colder now. The blue was gone.

There were more people above him, this time carting him off somewhere else. Where was Abbi? That girl? Or Jack, Finn, Ian, Shiloh, the rest of them? He couldn't see them any more. Actually, he couldn't see much of anything any more.

Everything had already gone black.

( Singed but alive! Kinda blacked out though... )

Whatever wailing Abbi had begun had eventually petered off into a series of stilted whines punctuated with other sharp snippets of screaming. The voice of her conscious that doubled as her weapon reprimanded her sharply, demanded and stomped incorporeal feet to stop her blubbering, but it wasn't until that odd, unknown smell permeated through her senses that the teen really stopped. Even her cessation was only momentary as she quickly whimpered to peek around the chair still pinning her to see blue flames.
Panting and waiting and expecting that last fall, that last additional dose of pain to end it all, Abbi clung to both Viveca and the chair, her weapon chanting something in her head that was ignored. Three sharps breaths counted as one, then three more as two, then three more as three, then four and suddenly the weight was being pulled off her in a clattering, shouting motion. Certain this was just that last sweet taste before the end, Abbi was surprised when a pair of hands shoved themselves into the sand around her and pulled her up in a quick, fierce motion. The person the hands belonged to twirled her around and shoved against her back, snapped instructions before they moved off to help someone else. Two steps was all she could managed before she fell, further surprised to find her weapon was what kept her upright, the pole stuck down into the sand.
{ Get out right now. Go home. }
Funny how that was the phrase that had started this mess.

Up on her feet hurt, but after failing all over the place earlier today, the teen was determined to make it to the exit the others were spilling into. But as hard as Abbi wanted to try, she just couldn't help herself trying to count up who she knew and where they were. It became a dizzying task as the pain of putting weight on her aching legs and moving the muscles that felt totally exposed began to tilt the world as she moved across the sand. A wave of blue was her call to safety, but she was just so tired and everything hurt so bad and there was this throbbing worry beating where her heart should be.
The sand was coming up too fast, the blue flames coming in too close and with one little attempt at a last sprint Abbi lost it. Both hands pulled Viveca to her chest as she fell, tucking her head down in one last remembered thought that she should tuck and roll should she fall.

Already having been carried twice today, the teen let herself be carried by whoever was closest, mumbling something to them about being a terrible Moon or that she hoped her friends were alright or even questioning what that odd burning smell was. She tried to tell her rescuer that they should find Ripley and make sure he was ok cause she hadn't seen him since that big chair landed on her, that Stormy had been possessed was she glad to finally be home? That her friends had been hurt, that she had friends, they were her's... Whatever it was got lost between her brain and her tongue, staggered between stilted breaths as the teen felt the temperature change from desert back to Deus, a small smile on her mouth. Abbi took a breath to say something as she was carted off, wanted to make a joke and instead let the breath out as she lost consciousness. It didn't really matter anyways.

(Alive but passed out! Whoops...)

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

things

He forced himself, arm over arm towards his smoldering weapon. Sand rolled up his sleeves, pressing against his bare skin and rubbing it raw as he continued forward with only a single destination in mind. He had lost his scarf somewhere in the sands, lost his chair elsewhere. No matter; things could be replaced.

Lance reached out and snatched at his weapon, pulling close before rolling onto his back and sitting up. He held his weapon at the ready, thinking and trying to come up with a plan. Jabbing and using the side of his lance as a blunt instrument to knock the centipedes away were certainly a think he could do. If they came up under him he might be able to angle his weapon in such a way to get caught in its throat, drop some grenades down it and maybe just maybe he could blow one up from the inside.

The assistant swung his weapon, smirking as a titan veered away from him with a screech. Maybe he still had it in him, just maybe -- what was that smell?

Lance threw an arm up to protect his eyes as pillars of blue fire erupted around them. The large titans veered back as they were burning, some collapsing into smaller insects while others dove for the safety of the sands.

"T-Taichou!" Lance stammered as he caught sight of the Sun lead. As his former lead approached him, Lance had enough sense to put his weapon away before Allan threw him to safety.

On the other side of the portal, Lance finally rolled to a stop after colliding with several other hunters. He lay on his back at Deus, watching the clear blue sky while waiting for someone to wheel him a new chair. He was too tired to feel shame or embarrassed. He was far too happy to be Home.

He could hear voices.

It wasn't Shiloh's voice, which he was listening to anyway, but voices of people that should have been familiar, that he should have known. Flashes of white, of gold, of red, of different colors, haphazardly moving in and out of his line of vision until they were an indistinct blur.

Shouts.

Ian ducked his head, pressing his forehead against Shiloh's shoulder, his breathing short and painful, each drawn breath like inhaling razor blades, not wanting to move until the danger was gone, not wanting to move unless he could be absolutely certain that they were not going to die.

There was no certainty like that.

Dimly he was aware that he was moving again, someone grasping his arm, hauling him to his feet. He reached out a hand automatically, searching for Shiloh, trying to keep the contact so that he would know that he was there, that he was still alive -

- his head was spinning -

Ian felt dizzy with the pain, the blisters that spread up his arms and legs, making them difficult to move. There was a particularly painful spot somewhere on his neck, by his collarbone, and with each movement it was agony, Ian doing everything he could not to simply give up and collapse right there on the ground.

He had to keep moving. He had to keep moving.

Ian was dimly aware of the fact that the air was beginning to thin out, that the smell of scorching heat and blood and hot sand and decay was beginning to dissipate, and that Shiloh was somewhere to his left.

One step.

Two steps.

Another step.

The air was more breathable -

- and then they were through and Ian's legs gave away almost instantly, his knees hitting the ground first, followed by the rest of him. He collapsed to the floor, barely aware of the shouts of the medics as they moved around, his eyes fluttering half shut, black soot stretched across one side of his face. His entire body ached, his fingertips doused in flames and blisters, his breathing labored.

He wanted to get up, but neither his brain nor his body would make the effort to do so.

Shiloh. Finn. Jack. Ripley. Nevada.

A mantra, over and over in his head, mixing in with the chaotic mess that he couldn't quite untangle yet, the agonizing memories that he wanted to forget, that he didn't want to remember because remembering meant pain.

He didn't want any pain anymore.

He wondered if feeling like a goner was just part of the Deus experience. If so, great. Got that pat down. Next step, please. Preferably the not dying part. Or dying quickly if they really must.

The wry commentary was just part of the safety mechanism of coping with that very real possibility, much like some used humor. Thankfully, however, the leaders came pouring in with just enough time to spare. One moment he was wrestling with a centipede, the next he was being yanked up and over to the portal. His legs remembered themselves and happily ate terrain to get himself out.

The fire and smoke had left him singed, pink-eyed, and coughing, but other than the aches from the bugs he was alright. Functioning at least. His natural instinct was to get out, but other techs were pointing him to the labs anyway: help if you aren't hurt.

Wheezing, the giant lumbered in, scanning the area for familiar faces and waving off other techs designated to look at him--a two second glance was all it took to show he was fine, really.