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Jake was relieved when Marcus and Gale were taken back, but... to leave an unconscious trainee behind and one who had done... completely no wrong...

His fists clenched as he grit his teeth, reaching out to catch Stormy as her support was pried from her. She wasn't particularly heavy, but with his injuries, he couldn't help but winch from the slight strain it put on his shoulder and foot, and he had to kneel down, panting as he shifted her so that he was carrying her in both arms, her feet touching the ground.

Stormy was out for the count, so he didn't have to worry about her saying anything unnecessary, but Sherry...
The life trainee was given a glare, gaze lingering on the broken weapon for a moment before his eyes met hers, giving her a look that seemed to say "don't you DARE.". He already knew what she was going to say, especially after she had offered to exchange her life for his, but...this wasn't just about him. There was Stormy, and... Chester. Surely she wouldn't be so selfish?

Just blame me. Get the hell out of here.

The thump against Jake as she was forcibly left behind roused the weakened trainee into a more aware state as the pain shot through her. With a gurgle cough she spat blood out and, with Thane's assurance she was still alive and that the barrier would come back soon enough, forced herself to get up on her own feet before they both fell over. All he got was a mumbled noise that sounded apologetic, as her voice didn't work just yet. Sherry was just a blond blur again, a vague touch she recognized but couldn't acknowledge when she was overwhelmed with the desire to go dark again.

Caelius's words were still going in and out, and frankly she missed some or it; but Stormy heard what was important loud and clear. Stormy paused to turn and give the other two unsure and unreadable looks, clutching at her side while barely able to tolerate the throbbing her broken arm produced; she was beginning to tremble from the stress. Maybe it was that desperation to be healed that made her speak so plainly. She was, in fact, quite selfish when the pressure mounted; Jake's wordless insistence was not necessary.

"I-I don't support his actions, sir," she replied with uneven breaths, turning back to Caelius with a wince because she couldn't bare to look at either while speaking now. "We shouldn't have . . . rushed in at all. Our mission was to lay low and watch the machine, and we didn't do either . . . I c-can only be blamed for--for following Sherry after she told me to stay behind, because Jake was supposed to be the leader." At the time it had just been impulsive thought: a friend had rushed ahead and thus they had to follow, right? Just to make sure he was okay . . .

But if Jake wanted to take all the blame, by all means.

"You are given," the Death lead reaffirmed after everyone's testimonies, "the illusion of choice. Your choice was already made with your decisions."

His eyes flickered to Jake. "Isn't that what you meant when you clearly disobeyed instructions and tampered with equipment? And Sherry, Stormy, trainees. Your lack of experience becomes an easy liability towards your team."

"By popular vote then, Sherry, your weapon." Caelius held out his free hand. "It is an obligation that each of you should observe the culmination of your own choices. Stormy." The look in his eyes was as usual, not quite sane. "As you are not responsible for Jake's behaviour, you will carry out his execution."

For a moment both weapon and wielder were stunned; and then Stormy grew more surprised that Thane could ever be caught off guard. But they were both taken aback for different reasons. Stormy, most obviously, was unsure how to take the order. Was it serious? There was a manic look in Caelius's eye that made her anxious on top of being in pain and barely able to think.

Thane, however, was pleasantly surprised they were given an opportunity at all. He'd been expecting that to be a privilege earned once she moved up in the ranks.

Their emotions in conflict, Stormy watched with a blank look as Sherry held her totem and spoke again about giving her life to fix this mess. And maybe it was because this was the hundreth time she'd heard such a ridiculous notion being peddled, or maybe it was the blood loss, or something about how everything would have been just fine if they had stuck to the plan instead of splitting at the second an anomaly passed their way--or maybe Stormy had simply reached her limit, a bar already set low by the previous missions with Death. Either way, her thought process had broken down into remarkably clear ideas.

Jake was supposed to lead them. Jake left. They chased. They all paid for it.

And all the little thoughts in between, like the links of a chain, connected each idea with a startling amount of growing anger she didn't know she possessed. Being helpless and coddled one mission was one thing; being part of a slaughter where nothing mattered but violence and bargaining and illusions of choice was something else. One by one her irritations and inner vexations came out of the woodwork, general in scope to overlap and forge these thoughts the weapon they needed: an urge for revenge. She could not fight back the Insanity as it had claimed her and Thane, and she could not fight back the horsemen and their spears and taunts.

But she could most certainly give the death hunter a piece of her mind.

Wordlessly, and with only her haggard breaths an indicator she was still possessing a mind, the trainee lurched towards Jake. Nothing of her posture suggested she was hostile; if anything, she looked more pitiful, her feet barely able to lift above the sand, her broken arm comically swaying at her side. She positioned herself in front of Jake, bloody and with a head that was buzzing, half from bloodloss, half from Thane coiling around her in anticipation.

For a moment she forced herself to look Jake in the eyes, silent because she had nothing to say--nothing that could be said in this desert, in this company, in this state. But her eyes were not the half-lidded kind she often wore, the remnants of a trainee who liked sleeping, but wide open and full of mixed emotion. She knew it was the stuff of literature and media only that a gaze could communicate this or that, and yet somehow she hoped he saw the pain in her eyes of being in this position. The exhaustion of being dragged around by a hunter who only cared about his group when their troubles and his aligned. The guilt of feeling like they were friends of a sort even if she wasn't sure he thought the same), but that even friendship wouldn't stop her at this point. The concern and grief of wishing he hadn't brought this upon himself like he seemed to so highly want. The fear of disobeying Caelius and bringing more punishment upon her.

The anxiety of wondering if Sherry would hate her once she acted.

There was no sleepy-eyed innocence there in Stormy's eyes, but there was most certainly an anger, most certainly a bitterness that it was Jake's fault she had nearly died twice on this mission alone. And, as she raised her good hand and summoned the greatsword to it, something even more hidden under all of that: a satisfaction of biting back.

Do it, something in her said. And Stormy didn't know whose voice it was anymore.

Sherry was correct, however; with only one good arm and all those injuries, she couldn't kill anything. She wasn't aiming to. Maiming was perfectly fine for her purposes.

Well aware that Jake's shield was completely gone, Stormy let the weapon fall and guided it until the steel bit through his clothes and sliced open his waist, and she went so far as to step forward to dig the blade in further. And then she dragged it out, let the weapon lift from the motion, and then let it bury its tip into one of Jake's feet like it was Excaliber itself. She found neither was enough, that a dark impulse to ignore her body's pains and keep going was swirling up from within. But she didn't have the energy anymore. She was hollow, bleeding, and most of all just tired.

Besides, having Jake in more pain was better than death. It didn't hurt her conscience nearly as much.

Stormy yanked her weapon out of his foot and stuck it in the sand to help keep her up, her jaw clenched as she turned to Caelius and completely overlooked Sherry. "Don't have the energy to do more, sir. Not right now."

She hadn’t even said anything. By the time Sherry realized what was going on behind her, it was too late.

“Stormy!” Sherry watched in gut twisting horror as the blade of the great sword left Jake’s gut and landed in his foot.

Armagnac began to cackle.

Sherry thought for the briefest of moments that she might be sick. After all they’d just been through. Jake and Stormy had both lived.

Armagnac sounded so intensely pleased it made Sherry’s stomach flip again.

Sherry couldn’t deny, on a base level, that he deserved to be punished. If Jake hadn’t run off, none of this would have happened. Stormy was beat to all hell, and it was Jake’s fault. They had all nearly died, and it was Jake's fault. Not all, though. She blamed herself, too. If she’s waited with Stormy and Marcus with the scanner, things might have been different. Maybe. She hadn't. They hadn’t. They’d made choices and now…now…

The overwhelming giddiness that Armagnac was projecting starkly contrasted with the rage building up inside of Sherry. She was angry at Stormy, Caelius, Jake, Armagnac, and herself. The anger rose to stamp out the fear Sherry was feeling right then. She didn’t care that her and Armagnac would fight about this forever. She didn’t care that Caelius might still decide some horrible fate for her and Stormy. She did fear for Stormy. Did she really blame Jake that much? Or was she just the type to take orders no matter what? (Which, honestly, was a trait that helped you live longer around Deus, it seemed.) Sherry wouldn’t have labeled the girl as having a malicious bone in her body; she was too sweet. But this…

Even if she didn’t finish the job, this was too much. It made Sherry's heart bleed.

Which led Sherry to her second fear. Jake. It scared her that he was going to die. She hated watching him die. This time there was no Death to reset the clock. There was no rescue coming in at the last second to save them… The rescue had ordered this. What scared her most, though, was how much it hurt. She knew how much it hurt, she’d felt it before… but after today, after making out of the nest… It just hurt so much, and she couldn't even cry.

Anger was a much safer emotion than fear or hurt.

She couldn’t be properly angry with Caelius. Everyone knew how he felt about trying to save one, or not doing things for the good of the cause. This was a war, and they…

Jake was saying stupid things. They were similar to the things Sherry had just said, and even she had to agree that he was probably going to die. Her heart ached at that admission, and while she accepted it, she couldn't help but hope. Hope was her eternal affliction, after all. It didn’t change the fact that she was angry, and that he was saying stupid things.


“Idiots,” she whispered. She didn’t scream, she didn’t hit anyone or stomp around. There had been enough of that today. Sherry let her rage run inward, and she let it consume her, and something kind of snapped. “******** idiots.” She slipped Armagnac into her pocket.

Two steps. She shoved a runic bandage at Stormy. “Eat that.” There was rage in her eyes, but it wasn’t burning hatred. She understood, in a way. And Stormy was probably the only one of the three going back alive. Sherry wished her well.

One more step. Sherry was kneeling by Jake. The dagger earned a glance. “I’ll break your hand,” she whispered. God damn him and his bleeding out in the sand. She dropped a runic flask at on the ground in front of him. “Drink it.” One hand was at his stomach while her other reached for her pocket full of bandages.


“I’m not leaving here without Jake. Leaders make stupid decisions, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be supported. Drag me home or kill me, but I’m not abandoning my team.” The words were meant for everyone.

She didn’t look at Caelius, she was too busy trying to figure out if it were possible to stop Jake from bleeding to death. She didn’t even care if he killed her. She didn’t sign up for this. A bloody gruesome death, sure. Watching friends kill friends on orders from the friendly side? Screw that.

She expected to die or be punished or something horrible and painful and sad. She didn’t care. She was too angry to care. And right then, she was too angry to return to the island. If she returned angry as she was now, afraid and angry and bitter, it was only a matter of time until she did something insane that cost others lives. Better die here and now than endanger anyone else with her own version of stupid.

The death lead's words cut deeper than any sword, each word ringing true inside of the trainee. It was true. In the end, what had really happened? Not only was the mission a complete failure, but he had put his teammates in harm's way. He couldn't protect anyone, couldn't save anyone. He thought the only thing still keeping him sane on the island was Chester, and here his weapon lay, broken and useless. What more did he have to lose?

He was about to let out a shout when the death lead turned to leave. Leaving him behind, fine. Leaving Sherry behind? At this point, he didn't think he could say or do anything to persuade the stubborn woman. But Stormy? Stormy had obeyed... to the best of her abilities, but she was just to be left behind and discarded like the rest of them? It wasn't fair. It wasn't. Life wasn't fair.

"WAI-" the portal snapped shut, and Jake grit his teeth. Great. GREAT. What now?

One hand gripped Sherry's scarf, his dagger hand raised as if poised to strike.
"You... you ******** idiot..."
With the last of his strength, he shoved Sherry away as he fell to the ground, breathing heavily.
"If you want... to make yourself... useful... go tend... to Stormy's wounds... you dumbass."
He didn't have the strength to move, let alone argue with her anymore. If she wanted to waste his and Stormy's efforts, fine, he didn't care. The blood loss was making him dizzy and light-headed, and he only lay there in the sand staring upward, wondering how much longer until he bled to death.

Sherry was aware of the fact that Cealius was not impressed, and that he left them behind to die or whatever. Some part of her agreed with his words, she was uninteresting and of no significance. Another part of her was relieved. They were still alive, and as long as they lived she could still hope. Deep, deep down, she could still hope that they’d be just fine.

Even that hope was overshadowed by her anger, and the bitter acceptance that she couldn't help them, not like they needed. Things like this shouldn’t happen. They’d all messed up. Jake ran off, Sherry followed, Stormy followed, they’d gone walking into a Horseman lair, and they’d gotten themselves into a situation that ended up with blood in the sand. If…If…

Her hands stopped trying to apply bandages to Jake when he grabbed her scarf. She blinked once, her eyes slowly moving from the dagger to his face. Her own hand flexed, ready to summon her Armagnac and keep her word. She didn’t have to; Jake pushed her away and hit the ground. Sherry scowled at him, considering his words, and altogether relieved he wasn’t going to be able to do something stupid.

Stormy spoke then, words Sherry didn’t understand, but in a tone she did.



Sherry sighed at the mention of pendants. “I don’t know,” her tone was even, cool and tainted with anger. “You can try it, but…” She shrugged. “I’m not going back before either of you.” She bit her lip then, feeling her anger begin to slip. Her friends were bleeding and dying and if she didn’t hold onto that anger, she was going to cry. She really couldn’t stand to do that right then. She was not dying like they were, she had to help them, and anger kept her calm.


“You are both idiots.” Her hands pressed a bandage against Jake’s stomach again. She was aware of the bleeding. She hated having his blood on her hands. “This is what alone gets you, Jake. Disjointed. A team that can’t function because you can’t communicate. Dead. And don’t you dare start giving me orders now. It’s too late for that.” She stopped, realizing she didn’t want to hurt them with her words. She was angry, but not at them, not fully.

She couldn’t do much for the belly wound, for any of his wounds. She didn’t have enough bandages for this. For either one of them, really. They needed actual help. She wished she had that tube of whatever Mark had been using. Though she did have…

“I admit,” she reached for the runic hip flask in the sand, unscrewing the top, “your move was probably the smartest, Stormy. Whether I agree with it or not.” She held the open flask out to Stormy, turning to look at the mist trainee, beat to all hell and fumbling with the bandages, clearly hurting. “Take a swallow or two of this. It should help with the pain, at least.” Even if it couldn’t fix her fear shield much, it was wine. Blue and faintly glowing, but wine.

“Neither one of you had better die.” She was going to force the wine down Jake’s throat after Stormy had a bit. If they lived through this, Sherry was going to beat them both black and blue. Except she wouldn’t. It wasn’t really their fault she couldn’t protect them. Her free hand reached back into her pocket, hoping she still had bandages.

Ol-j-man

[A.V.]