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With a frown that quickly became an 'are you kidding me' sneer, Mimsy glanced from the tranquilizer gun to Maebe. As eager as she was to make use of it, she was far from stupid, and had no intention of allowing incriminating evidence to be pushed onto her if the tranquilizer didn't work.

But if it did work, she had some revenge to enact, so she nonchalantly tried to get a glimpse of Caelius.

Rin was not sure where the hell Melvin had gone off to. He was late and as a result, she was here looking for him when... why was he unconscious in a heap of bodies and rubble that Cael was stalking towards?

"Uhm, excuse me sir," she approached Caelius while gesturing in the direction of Melvin. "I believe I've misplaced that. May I please have it back?"

From a relatively safe spot in the cafeteria, Lance leaned back in his wheelchair and quietly munched on some fresh popcorn. He was thoroughly enjoying the show.

Rin got promptly ignored in return for the most long, awkward, drawn out pause in the history of secret cafeteria exhibitions being held to oogle man abs instead of actually advertising proper product in Deus Ex. Which really wasn't saying much for itself.

Since nobody actually responded with anything coherent, the Death lead decided to fill in the gaps with one-thousand percent absolute Caelius Rage (tm).

"Is this what trainees have been learning. That it is all some sort of game. That you can forfeit actual emergency situations without even a vague, tiny understanding of what the <********> is actually happening out there. Is everyone so ******** desperate for time and attention that the concept of actually being ******** useful has completely escaped whatever semblance of thinking power you possibly could have had. You all made promises as trainees and not a single <******** one of you has fulfilled any sort of promise or have you forgotten-" He suddenly paused and composed himself, which only make it that much more unnerving. "I see. I guess some of it is my own ******** negligence from being too ******** busy with the goddamn world not blowing up, thinking you can take care of yourself. I guess I haven't demonstrated enough about what it is like to be Hunter, or what to expect out on the field. Hopefully this lesson will be a learning experience."

Wait what lesson? Was he going to just off trainees until they learned "what it was like to be a Hunter"-

- Scrape, went his weapon as he drew a long grooved line right into the stone floor. A second groove, around teen feet across, went the other direction and by the time he was done, it had formed a pretty nice and rather perfect square. Why, he could almost be an artist, if he wasn't, you know, helping lead an organization bent on learning what it was like to be a Hunter. Yes, this was indeed a very nice, rather large square-

- A square, that took on a deep, bright blue, the same colour as his weapon-

- And then filled with a burst of light that happily sucked in everyone in the cafeteria, chairs, tables, lunch serving person and all (sans Allan, because the Sun lead had wandered off to trade Pokemon with Simon), and obviously, the Death lead, who managed to snag Mark the last second before the Death Assistant got sucked in (though to be fair, it was probably much more worse staying in the cafeteria than out).

It was cold, and it was dark. The jump between the relative warmth of Deus Ex, and wherever they had landed was too much to process at once as all those who were pulled in could experience were base senses: dark, cold, painful. Sharp. Loud. The howling noise was wind, pushing them back, pressing against their skin sharp and painful. The gritty feeling between their teeth was sand blowing around. The soft pliable surface underneath them could have only been more sand, shifting and moving along with the wind, the two elements combined pushing Hunters around like tiny strung up toys against a greater puppeteer's hand. The only thing keeping Hunters anchored were the strange poles sticking out everywhere, and the remains of a tent tarp, recognizable only by its bare frames, and the occasional half-buried cafeteria table. At some point this might have been a base camp of sorts, but it had long been demolished. A flag of Deus Ex still hung next to the tattered tent.

And then there was the smell. Putrid. Rotting. There was an odd sound that jarred against the howling, a strange squelch, and then a burst of ripe and fetid decay that easily permeated past smell, until the stench could be tasted, thick and sour.

Something moved in the sand, it slid back and forth, snagged in a piece of rope. The body however, was missing its lower half, the organs trailing out of it blackened and dried. As the new arrivals' eyes adjusted, as the scene became more clear, it was easier to spot the other bodies. An arm. A leg. A charred and decayed remains someone's head, their scalp peeled off at both ends. It was hard to tell how many there had been here. Ten, maybe. Twenty. They were all wearing tattered remains of white and gold coats.

The air shifted and stilled for a bare moment. Enough to reveal that these decayed remains were not as decayed as they thought. Enough to reveal that that one arm was still holding a cell phone with barely half-depleted batteries.

Welp.

America had been diligent in her note taking, it was all very important for The Wall. And then Hot Angry Teacher arrived, just as planned and went straight for the bait. There were quiet high-fives exchanged until somebody decided to startle their prey with some piss poor shooting. The Sun gave Maebe a flat look and shook her head as Hot Angry Teacher went to town on giving a clear example of how angry he could get.

Hiding behind an over-turned table, she very determinedly did not fess up, but sought out Pandora while looking for an escape route. The Mist trainee was busy taking discreet pics with her phone, which...

America slid her phone up over her little barricade and tried to add a few as well while Hot Angry Teacher began to rant about promises. None of which she had left unfulfilled as far as she knew, but maybe she should have read that paperwork instead of signing it without a glance. She did perk up at the learning experience bit, because Hello Teacher...but then he was destroying the floor with his badass weapon and everyone got sucked into some sort of ******** desert night without any further ado.

Peeking over her table, America scanned the group. The reek was something fierce, and hopefully they'd find some of those free products about to help with the stench of what was very likely an ugly sort of death. Noticing the disembodied leg, she made a pained expression. Yep.

"So uh...seeing as how Hot Angry Teacher just kind of dropped us here without instructions, I'm gonna guess the goal is survival?" Outdoors survival wasn't something she was unfamiliar with, but the more extreme situations had always been more theoretical. America looked at the leg again, "We'll need to do better than this lot, I suppose." Staying low to the ground, she crept over to the leg to check its pocket.

In retrospect the warning signs were obvious. The mere presence of Caelius himself should have clued him in to slowly back away and retreat while he could. The visage of Caelius summoning his weapon before slashing a portal into existence should have told him that he was screwed. Some deep, stupid part of his brain caught up in an alpha complex asserted that he was a Division Assistant and would be Fine. That part, Lance swore to himself as he lost his popcorn, was going to be the death of him. Again.

The assistant kept a straight face as he landed, reaching out to grip the wheels of his chair to steady himself on the shifting sands. When he was sure he wasn't going to go sliding downhill or tumble forward, the Mist hunter relaxed his grip enough to reach into his coat's pocket and draw out a small bottle. Very calmly he began to apply sun block to himself, saying nothing.

Milo had been a little disappointed that his opportunity to snag some more free swag had been halted by the arrival of the Death lead, whom he didn't... totally know about. Vaguely he did, knowing some higher ups was probably important but well, that was like, names and stuff. And that was about it. Not what he would do in all this, though from his vantage point from one end of the cafeteria, he had to grin when the booth got toppled over. But that's where the smiling ended for the time being. Because then they were being lectured. And holes were popping up.

And Milo was then really glad he had managed to get all his clothes on, with the biting sand and all. And the wind, and the n** in the air. And that landing. It wasn't pretty, like most landings that were coming to mind. The brunette sat up and made a face as tendrils of sand began to trail down his back and limbs. The layers still weren't complete protection from the elements, but it was at least probably better than being shirtless like he was a little bit ago. He crossed his arms over his chest, though wished for another hand to cover his mouth from that stench. So, this was supposed to be a lesson, then, huh? With dead bodies in the sand.. and the sand. The baby Sun pursed his lips for a moment trying to think if there was an episode like this anywhere.

Hmmm. Japanese children shows didn't usually have disembodied bodies though. Maybe some dead people... sometimes. Lesson lesson.. lesson. That glasses guy had mentioned that they didn't seem to get what being a Hunter was all about. Was this like the conclusion to the fun episodes and the introduction of the plot? "So, ya. Anyone know where we are?" He spared another glance at the bodies, and America looting them. "Besides ... a tent in the sand with...." He made another face, and didn't mention the dead Hunters.