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Aksaja started to open his mouth to say something to Edel, or to the rest of them, he wasn't even sure what - tell them they were idiots, that they should have kept their mouths shut, ask what the Jack they thought they were doing - it didn't matter. Because in that instant, there was a soft hiss, and everything started to go fuzzy. Then black.

When he woke up again, he scrambled up to his feet, looking around wildly. They were all still . . . no. No they weren't. Edel was missing. Where . . . ? His eyes darted about the room, finally landing on another glass cage just across from them. There. Why had they moved her? Then one of the Hunters was talking, saying something about this happening to the rest of them unless they talked. What was this?

Edel looked frightened, her gaze focused on Roch for a few moments as he screamed and beat at the glass. “Let her go! Take me instead!”

Aksaja winced, for both of them. This was the trial of Death. He hadn't thought that any of them would actually die, but it looked like that was going to happen. And today, it would be Edel. Somehow, the lightning dragon didn't think she would just re-form later either. Jack. Fists clenched, he watched, silent, as something started to happen to Edel. She twisted inside her glass cage, writhing at some unseen pain, until finally . . . she utterly disappeared, leaving behind a weapon - a spear.

The dragon's eyes were wide now, staring as blood ran from his hands where nails had punctured skin. Was this how the Hunters got their weapons? This was where their power came from? From them? Turned into . . . inanimate objects? This was wrong. So very, very wrong. Voice low, he snarled the words at them, "Try all you like, threaten all you want. By doing that to her, you just lost any chance you had at getting anything from us."

((OOC: Because there is no chance Moure is going to be unconscious for Edel's weaponization, Tri's writing this anyway. ;; ))

Moure came to in the closed-in cage, blinking rapidly as he did so. He scanned his group mates, his eyes quickly scanning across each one. Where was Edel? Where was Edel?

Edel.

Moure immediately stood, pressing his hands to the transparent surface. "No." He said, his voice soft at first. "No. Not Edel." It grew in volume then, along with in sorrow. "Not Edel! Let her go!"

Moure beat upon the glass with each yell. "Let her go!" He could see Roch acting the same way in a far cage. "Let her go!" Each repetition was shouted louder, more frantic and choked. "Take me instead!" Moure ahd promised himself he would protect her. He'd promised himself he'd do anything to keep her safe. He'd be weaponized if it would spare here. He'd failed. Again, he slammed his fists against the cage, "Take me instead!"His voice probably broke then, quivering in sorrow and rage. he dind't care. Even as it hiccuped, he shouted again, "Take me instead!"

Even as she turned to each of the other, he hit the wall holding him back from saving her. He beat on it, trying to hold back the tears he knew were coming. "Take me instead! Let her go!" He couldn't then, and the tears came, rolling down his face as he pressed his head against the glass, still screaming at the Hunters, "She shouldn't have to face this twice! Take me instead! He looked up, seeing Edel turn in her direction. He watched her, tears still rolling down his face, as she mouthed something toward him. He banged his fist against the wall again, screaming back his reply in some hope that maybe she could hear him. "I love you Edel!" He blinked, trying to clear his eyes just enough to get to look at her before the unstoppable could happen. "I love you!"

Still sobbing, Moure watched as the love of his life, his reason for living, screamed. There was so much screaming. The patchwork could never avert his eyes. Not from his Edel. Moure kept hitting the glass, even though he knew he couldn't stop it. He couldn't save her, not this time.

He couldn't save her from the Hunters.

Finally, a spear, just a lifeless-looking spear, rested in Edel's cage. Moure had long since crumpled to the floor, hands still pressed against the wall that had stopped him. A Hunter, a Hunter, picked up the spear. How dare he, how dare he lay his fithly human hands on her?! "Don't you dare touch her!" That spear was his Edel.

His Edel.

His Edel was gone.

As the human returned and asked them if they would talk, Moure's face pulled into a snarl. The Moure the others knew was gone. Instead, in his place, was one so filled much with sorrow and rage. His expression was one of absolute loathing, and his hand clawed against the glass. Moure's eyes read off his answer. He would tell them nothing and, given the possibility, he would destroy them. He would rip them apart, do anything he had to do to destroy them all.

For his beautiful, loving, gracious Edel.

Why couldn't they have taken him instead...?

The door opened. Roch had already gotten to his feet as soon as she started speaking, watching the door like a hawk. The moment the door was open completely he shadow stepped forward, passing through the door and racing down the hall. He could make it--he could get out, find the others, tell them where this place was--

The world around him was starting to get faster. No. It wasn't the world. It was him getting slower. He stumbled, staggering forward, each step heavy, as if his body weighed far more than it should. Then, almost in slow motion, he fell. He had no strength to catch himself. His hand came up too late and he landed heavily on his chest, his palm only flopping onto the ground beside him. Stubbornly he pushed at the ground, trying desperately to push himself up again.

He heard her steps heading towards him. They were casual, a saunter of a walk that said he wasn’t worth running for. A sickened feeling clamped his throat shut and he felt the urge to throw up as she casually leaned over. He could smell her, hear her breath, feel it against his clammy, sweat covered skin. She moved so he could see her face--see that smile that sent a chill of dread down his spine.

"You'll make a good partner."

He wanted to tell her to go to hell--that he would never be one of their so called “partners.” That he would rather die eternally than become the disgusting excuse of a weapon they’d forced Edel to become--

But he couldn’t move his mouth. He couldn’t move his body. The world was swirling in and out of focus in front of his eyes and he wished he had the ability to throw up, he felt so sick. The nausea, the dizziness, it was overwhelming--

And Roch fell unconscious, not even capable of saving himself.
***

Whether you let go of me or not,” Austin went on quietly, “there is no jackin’ way I’m going to let go of you. You better get used to it now.”

He knew he was dreaming. Roch pulled away from his father, looking up at him. Of all the things he could have dreamed about, he thought as he looked up at the older man, he had to pick this moment. The moon loomed heavily above them, watching this moment of father son bonding. The sound of Vegas snoring from inside the room caught his ear and he glanced at the door.

“Dad,” he said, changing the moment, simply because he could. “Dad, I forgive you,” he said, tears threatening to fall. “I’ll never be able to tell you that, y’know? This is just a dream. But I forgive you. I wish... jack, I wish I could see you again, even if you were a jackin’ lousy father.” He reached up to the hand that was touching the side of his head. “At least... y’know... we got the last year.”

The world went black again. He expected another dream to start--to see someone else that he wanted to see one more time before he died. Who would it be? Vegas? Monica? Danny?

His eyes opened, expecting to see one of them. For a moment he didn’t even register the glass wall in front of him, he was looking for a familiar face. But dreams were no longer buffering him from reality. He looked around, turning in a circle, his hand running over the glass the entire time. He knew where he was.

He was going to become a weapon. He had always been part weapon, it was--no, jack that, he thought. He reached out his hand, desperately trying to summon his guitar. His hand tightened into a fist so tight that his fingernails sliced into the skin of his palm. Blood welled to the surface, dripping down from his hand, but he refused to loosen his hand.

A crackling noise came from above and he looked up. The pain started then. It tingled at first, then ripped through his body, touching on each of his nerve endings, slicing through all his previous experiences in pain and making them look peaceful. His teeth clenched tightly, cracking slightly as he fought the urge to scream. But all too soon it became more than the punk boil could handle. His scream tore through the air, threatening to crack normal glass. It echoed in his ears, deafening him.

His voice changed midway. It started to vibrate, still pitched high, but almost musical--multi-toned. And the FEAR that once made up the boil who had dreams, who had hopes, who had a past, turned into a solid form, sitting silently in the middle of the tube.

A red and black double headed guitar.

What more could they possibly do? They'd taken his school. They'd taken Edel. They'd taken everything.

Edel would want him to fight for Halloween. He'd live for her. He had to. He couldn't let himself do anything but that. He took a deep, ragged breath, his head resting against the clear surface of the containment cell. The tears were finally running out, staunched by the deep creeping nothingness starting within him. Moure was nothing but a patchwork, and a patchwork that couldn't even die to protect those he loved at that. He hadn't been able to protect Edel, not before, not now. He had to live for her.

When their tormentor pulled out a phone and made a call, Moure's eyes lifted slightly, to the spear still in his hands. He was going to take away Edel, or whatever was left of her. Moure couldn't stop him. A human woman entered, and Moure tried to listen to their conversation, palms still pressed to the glass of his containment's walls. Pre-war...? What had happened after those trials? Why had they been brought so far forward just to be slaughtered now? The smile she gave them was anything but sweet, and Moure knew his demise was reassured now.

One by one, the woman moved to each of the patchwork's team members. Then she came for him. Moure's jaw set, his eyes narrowing. But then the woman left the room before actually reaching his cage...? What did they just want to give him a little more time to be eaten alive by his worry, sorrow, and rage? Moure's eyebrow raised, mind instantly wondering if this was another trap. It must've been a trap. It had to be a trap. But that didn't stop him from taking the oppportunity when it presented itself. Trap or not, it was doing something instead of just waiting for his demise. He'd take the risk. The door to his holding-cage opened next once the woman had left. The instant the door started moving, Moure did the only thing he knew how to do; He ran.

He took off at full speed, forcing past the last of the door as it continued to swing open, and bolted like a fleet-footed creature of prey. He crashed into the door that lead out of the room with such force that it yielded to his hit, somehow causing the door to open. Whatever had caused it to react to his blow, perhaps triggering a open-switch or simply giving way to the high-speed bullet that was Moure, the patchwork didn't know or care. Instead he just kept running.

As he raced down the hallway, his thoughts were centralized on one thing: Escape. He had to get out, get others, get to safety, just get somewhere that wasn't here. He had to survive for Edel. He had to. Escape would most likely only postpone death by the Hunters. But that time might be just enough he needed to redeem her life before going down fighting himself.

Even as Moure ran, leaving hallway after hallway in his wake, he could feel something starting to go wrong. The room seemed to stretch longer and longer. At the speed he'd been moving, he should've been able to find a way out, or at least be past this particular hallway by now. Then, a feeling Moure was all too familiar with began to come over him.

No. No. He couldn't be crashing. Not now.

None the less, weight started to pull down at him, gnawing at his strength. Something was sapping him. While the feeling had started out like his usual crash-'n-burn, now it was incredibly different. This must've been the Hunter's trap. Moure's infinite stamina for running, for moving even, seemed to suddenly collapse into itself. Moure couldn't force himself forward, even as his momentum dragged him on. He couldn't even summon enough strength to roll to break his fall, or even to catch himself. The ground was far to close now. Soon the patchwork found himself sprawled out, face touching those indentical white tiles in the floor. Move. He commanded himself mentally, unable to even open his mouth. Move! Get up! No matter how Moure pushed his limits, his limbs couldn't respond as he wished. Feebly, one hand twitched. He felt as he'd been taken apart, unable to control his own body due to the disconnection.

Finally, he heard the distant sound of footsteps coming toward him. A shadow loomed over him, and he could only see it's contours on the floor, the flat image of the woman's silhouette. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her coming closer. Finally, she leaned down over him. Paralyzed, Moure could only stare back up into her face, her sweetly, sickly, smiling face. He knew that expression. Cphira had worn it in public, the expression one of approval on the outside, with the dark promise of someone's doom buried underneath.

"You'll make a good partner."

Moure's mind tried to summon the strength to snarl back at her, to do something to show that she and her precious humans didn't own him. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything against her.

He couldn't even save himself.

When Moure eventually came to, he found himself in the same container he'd seen Edel in, tracing the curve of it's surface with his eyes. So this was it. Before Moure had learned of the Hunters, he'd always imagined he'd be destroyed by Cphira, or if he'd managed to get away from her, not facing destruction for quite some time. He'd never thought it would end like this. Not like this.

There was a hum, and he looked up, just in time to have the endless of pain course through him. There was so much pain. The last time he'd experienced anything like this was when the Horseman had accidently obliterated the students with gravity, but that was only a fraction of the pain coursing through him now. He knew he was screaming, but it didn't sound like his voice. It was as if he was hearing someone else screaming and could only hear it vaguely, too overwhelmed by pain than anything else. Why was there so much pain? He realized this must've been what Edel had felt too.

The pain continued to jolt through him, rippling down his spine and stitches, tearing at him. It was ineffiable, inexpressable. In the searing pain something would have to give. In the end, it was him.

He felt something snap inside him, crinkled up and broken by the pain. Before the full impact hit him, he heard himself think "Cphira's not going to like it when she founds out I broke something" And then, with that last pointless thought, it hit him completely. The pain was blinding, all-embracing, drowning out even his own screams and sobs. Nothing could withstand the pain. Soon his form itself was eaten alive by it, forced into something the Hunters could mold.

Finally, something changed. The pain seemed to lessen, the cracking and breaking shifting and slipping into a more stabilized form. The feeling of being complete, a feeling that had oft alluded the patchwork in his unlife, crept over him. His memories flickered through his mind, but he was unable to place the people within them; A tall foreboding demoness with a poisonous smile and patchworks around her, a purple-haired reaper playing a guitar, a ghoul his own age, tail flickering with flames and a goofy smile plastered across her face, and finally, a beautiful young woman with a halo of blue hair, smiling at him as she held his hand in hers.

And then they faded away. Something inside him had clicked.

In the container that had once held Moure, there was now a strange weapon laying on the floor. It was a long gauntlet-like machine, built to slip over one's hand and arm. Near the end was a three-pronged claw, connected to the rest of the gauntlet by what looked like a thick cable of thread. The clawshot was lifeless, the runic designs a patchwork of different colored metals glowing dimly. He could only feel one thing now.

Deep inside, there was a something stirring within him, a deep void that began to gnaw at him. An insatiable hunger for what he had once been, what he had lost. The desire was unstoppable, unbeatable. He was so hungry.

Soon, that hunger would consume him.