Welcome to Gaia! ::

The damage was brutal and personal, the way close range weapons always were. Sometimes she wondered, if that potential was what part of what helped form the bond between hunter and weapon. The ability to do that, to have that place inside them. America could feel the fear building within her along with the adrenaline that had kept her going for days in the darkness. She was not going to die here and Peyton was the enemy. Everyone was quickly becoming the enemy until it was just this time, alone and fighting to survive and without a single a*****e to guard for the sake of doing something right in the face of every act of wrong she was about to commit.

She almost didn't heat the announcement, but she did, America straightened only to crouch back down again with a too-wide smile of gritted teeth and survive survive survive circling her thoughts. "Gonna have to catch me, first." And she was off, no weapon in hand and leaping over debris and bodies and weaving through fighters, slowing down here and there to let Peyton get close only to speed forward again. The last time nearly proved too close, the small blonde catching at her just as they entered room C.

In all honesty it was a relief, for the techs to decontaminate her as well as Peyton. Just in case something lingered.


HP: 44 --> steadily dropping to 22 by the time they reach room C
Target: Peyton

Lydia certainly seemed to be her cheerful self. Oliver had only seen her upset that one time, truly upset, rather than the indignant irritation over Mark having completely disappeared. He was starting to develop some more perspective, knowing that behind the bright, enthusiastic personality was still a girl who could be hurt, and cry.

He also knew now how tough she was, and how bad that one mission must have been... It was a good thing he hadn't been taken along, just helping with the aftermath in the infirmary had his stomach tied in knots.

There was still fighting going on, but he wasn't given much time to dwell on it, as soon Lydia was pulling him back through the crowd. Arorangi was calling out for them, and the ever-enthusiastic girl made a bee-line towards him with her own cheerful shouts.

"Um... sorry to make you worry," Oliver said weakly, still not quite able to meet Arorangi's eyes. He had chickened out, that's for sure. His glance wandered away, over to where some hunters were already beginning to work with green capsules and containers. "Maybe we should go help out..."

Infected sup

It came in bursts, bright shocks of feeling that continued to tear at him as the thing that was tied to him thrashed and pulled and was a general nuisance - while their targets, their food, the blood and flush of life that begged to flow between his teeth and tongue; they tore back at him. His wide, bloody mouth roared a bubbly sound at both of them, before the body tied to him went limp and he crouched down to his hands and knees, careening like an ape towards Milo with only the drag of an unconscious body slowing him. He flung himself at the man, his teeth snapping and grinding desperately as he chewed through whatever was keeping him from the prize.

He could almost taste it, he was so close. Liquid gold, hot and flowing in his mouth, ready to satisfy him for as long as he could feel it.

HP: 16
Damage to Milo: 8

When Tuck finally woke up, he felt like s**t. Not shitty s**t, but he felt like ******** s**t. His mouth tasted metallic, disgusting, like he'd bitten his lip. Except worse. He cracked open his eyes, vision filling with an upside-down Heidi. Tuck felt disoriented, and his shoulder ached but that was okay because his head was in Heidi's lap and she was so ******** soft and pretty.

And then he remembered.

He remembered how it felt when Stormy had taken Evan away, the two of them leaving him behind.

He remembered how it had felt when he'd been taken by the infected.

He remembered the foul ******** muck-filled pit of the meat grinder.

He remembered getting bitten.

And, quite suddenly, he remembered the screams of horror he'd heard back on post in Afghanistan. The sound of his boys being torn to s**t. The sounds of them dying, one by one, as they'd tried to escape. Big Sexy. Sherman. Hoolio. Dollface. JJ.

Tuck sat up, head in his hands, and then rose to his feet.

How had they felt when he'd left them behind? And, besides that, why the ******** had they left him behind?

Catch.

America took off again, and a cold, frustrated snarl tore from pretty pink lips as she snapped forward, hot on the other girl's tail. Couldn't let her get away. Couldn't let her dissolve into that mindless rage beast again. Had to catch her. Had to end it. End it. Had to.

She streaked after the taller girl, smashing through lingering bodies that may have been lingering about, and very nearly caught the red-head at least once. Then, as she came to a stop, the Sun moved to strike.

Throwing herself into America, she brought the other girl down with a loud bang, smaller frame straddling America's waist, blade at that pale throat. "I'm sorry." She sounded it, voice strained as warm metal pressed a little tighter. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I lo..ve...you." The warmth that had been flooding her veins receded, and coldness rushed in to replace. Peyton blinked, features smoothing. Pain to perplexed as she stared down at her friend, and then horrified at what she found herself doing.

Warrick was dismissed at once, bodily thrown away from her to vanish back into his totem before he hit the floor. Wordlessly she sank down, curling herself over America, wrapping her arms around the other girl's neck and clinging tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It came out as a whisper, panicked and full of regret. "Did I hurt you.?"

INFECTED - HP: 4/20

The sock to the jaw stunned him and Zascha collapsed to the floor. Arms splayed out as he slumped over some debris. After a few seconds he began to move again but much more slowly this time. His fingers twitched in an awkward fashion.

DMG: 0

The techs backed away, eyes rolling at the interpersonal dramas of Peyton and America along with a dozen other pairs of hunters having various meltdowns. The best part of s**t like this was probably the fact that hunters got so caught up in their feelings, the weren't throwing tantrums of decontamination procedures and anti-virus administration.

America held tight to Peyton, her mind fully her own, and just breathed deeply. Once, then twice. And on the third, shuddering breath, she nodded, but went on, "You didn't mean to, and you weren't under longer enough to go after anyone else, okay, Pey? You're good. We're good."

There was a small part of that almost tried to relax, tried to insist that now was the time to curl up and have a good cry with Peyton. But it wasn't. They were still on the job, and they wouldn't be safe until they were on the island and she was somewhere she could be alone, and not drag anyone else under the tide that threatened every time she closed her eyes and exhaled.