Induction

[Shiola]

((August Hanlon continued from Resistance))

He'd made the trek towards the ominous-looking concrete building without incident. The map labelled it "The Compound." It didn't look like the kind of place anyone was supposed to find, if the menacing-looking fence was any indication.

The nausea came in waves, occasionally forcing him to stop and wait for it to pass. A few times August thought that he'd end up keeling over into the dirt, but he managed to keep it together. This medication was were supposed to be easier on his system than the last ones he'd tried, but ultimately they were still going to make him miserable until it passed out of his system.

After one final pause, he made it to the edge of the Compound. What was left of a parking lot stretched out before him. Wary of the open space, August scrambled to the remains of a guard house, pressing himself against a crumbling concrete barrier.

In the shade, he took off his sunglasses and folded them into his jacket pocket. He didn't need them; they just kept the fractals at bay while he was out in the sunlight. Scrambled colors began to occupy the edge of his vision as he scanned the area. Looking for Mercy, and anyone who'd be walking towards the building.

It didn't take long for him to see the body lying out on the pavement.

"Oh no."

He bolted from cover, running towards the person on the ground.

"Shit, shit!"

Austin looked like he'd been mauled. Blood streaked across his face, smeared from where someone had clearly pulled off his clothes. A gray duffel bag lay half-empty nearby, haphazardly rummaged through. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together.

They robbed you? What the fuck?!

"Austin, hey, pal. C'mon, wake up!"

August knelt down, pressed his fingers to Austin's neck. There was still a pulse, thankfully.

"Dude, please, just uhh - I don't know if you're just messed up or using your Gift but like, we're out in the open here!"

He turned and scanned the parking lot, flinching as he mistook a fractal for a human shape. Thankfully, it was clear whoever did this hadn't decided to hang around.

Quickly, he set his own duffel bag down and began reaching for the First-Aid Kit.

So I can do - what, exactly? He paused.

Nothing that was quick enough. They had to get to cover, or shade at least, and August was in absolutely no position to move him.

The empty space around felt like it could close in at any moment. Force a confrontation. There was blood on August's hands, now. In this place, all it would take was a misunderstanding.

I need to wake him.

August looked down, his hand resting on Austin's shoulder.

He sighed.

"Fuck it."

A tiny spark jumped across August's fingers, and through Austin's skin.

[almostinhuman]

((Austin Greene continued from Nothing In The Hallways))

Austin had expected one of two things upon returning to his own body. That either Crispin was still hanging around, gloating or pissing on him or whatever dumb bullshit, or that he'd be gone and Austin would be alone.

Well, he'd expected something else, too; to be in serious fucking pain. And he was.

But not entirely for the reasons he'd expected.

"AIIIEE!"

He gave an undignified shriek of pain as he rocketed forward, sitting upright. Tears welled in his eyes, his body shaking furiously, his right hand clasped over his mouth.

His shoulder held the most fresh and immediate pain. But Christ, literally everything fucking hurt. It was hard to focus on any one source of pain in particular; it all screamed at once in a way that utterly scrambled his brain.

He wanted to cry. He wanted so badly to just fucking cry.

But August was there, kneeling beside him. The state he was in was embarrassing enough without that kind of display. Self-consciousness would have to win out.

"A-August?" He felt immediate shame at the tremble in his voice; he sounded like a fucking child. "Wh... what are you doing?"

[Shiola]

August recoiled back as Austin sat up, thankful at least that he was conscious again. He stammered through an explanation, wary of the look of alarm in Austin's eyes.

"I, no I wasn't - are you - I'm sorry! I had to wake you up, you weren't moving, and I wasn't sure - we're out in the open here, I wasn't sure how to - whoever did this, maybe they'd come back and - shit, I'm really sorry. It was just a tiny spark, I didn't think it'd hurt so much. Do you want - "

For a moment, August nearly held out his arms.

A hug? Look at him, he's hurt! Don't make it worse.

"- here. Take this. You've been lying in the sun for a bit."

Wearing his own look of embarrassment, August reached into his duffel bag and produced a bottle of water, holding it out to Austin.

[almostinhuman]

"It... it's fine." He took the bottle with his right hand. "Thank you."

Well, that explained the sudden shoulder pain. It was, frankly, a stupid idea on his part; literally nothing but death could wake him from his Gift even if he'd been genuinely unconscious. But he could appreciate the sentiment behind it. And August was a good dude, really. He'd let it go.

The sting in his shoulder was rapidly fading. Good. Not like he needed to be in more fucking agony. Crispin had left him with plenty. Everything from his nose to his ribs to his arms were still throbbing with bone-deep aches. Worse still were some spots that decidedly didn't ache. While his left wrist hurt like hell, his left hand didn't. He wasn't getting much feeling from it at all as it lay limply at his side against the pavement.

He didn't want to consider what that meant.

"Uh... you okay?"

A ridiculous thing to ask, given his own current state. But he'd take any distraction from having to deal with it, even if just a moment.

[Shiola]

“Nope!” He blurted out, without really thinking about it.

August smiled nervously, stealing a glance over his shoulder before attempting to offering a better reply.

It doesn’t look like he’s ready to move, yet. Stop staring at the wrist, you’ll freak him out.

“I mean I’m terrified but - like physically, I guess I’m alright.” Wobbling slightly, he put out a hand to steady himself. Crouching next to Austin wasn’t easy, given his present state. Choosing not to risk falling onto the injured boy, August sat down on the pavement next to him.

If those people come back, I guess I’ll have to do something about it. He didn’t like the idea, but Austin wasn’t in a hurry. There wasn't much he could do to force him to move.

As he spoke, August stole occasional worried looks at Austin’s injuries.

“Sorry. Uhh, I’m waiting for my meds to wear off. They slow me down. It’s why nobody’s ever really seen me use my Gift much. I’m usually just trying to make it through the day. When they wear off, I’ll be able to sing with it again.”

To illustrate his point, he played with an arc between his fingers. Little adjustments raised and lowered the frequency, and it audibly hummed a short minor scale, before he closed his fist and killed the arc.

Normally he didn’t show people that. His attention seemed to drift for a moment, before he broke out of the momentary spell and looked back up at Austin.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m fine. You, though - what happened? What can I do to help?”

[almostinhuman]

He watched August playing a little tune with his electricity. Right, August was on a crazy regimen of power blockers and shit, wasn't he? Which probably sucked for him, but given what his power could do, it was probably a necessary evil. A good reminder that Austin's Gift was far from the worst one anyone had ever been "blessed" with. He hoped August got at least a little comfort out of not having to use those for however long he'd be stuck here.

"Mm. Crispin happened."

The specifics of what happened were a little muddled in his head. The hours between the attack on the bus and their teacher being shot and the whole nightmare actually starting, he'd technically been "awake" for it, but the granular details of it were a disorienting blur. He didn't know if maybe it was the gas or the sheer time he spent in that state or maybe one of the animal-headed dudes having a Gift that was fucking with him. The first thing he really, clearly remembered was being punched in the nose by Crispin.

He... maybe he started the shit with Crispin, though? Maybe? Why was he getting that vibe? He vaguely remembered talking to Crispin before the throwdown, but what they actually said...

He could sort that shit out later. Really, who started it changed nothing.

"I... I was trying to scout around, see who's here. Maybe get some help. You shocked me right when I was coming back to make sure the coast is clear."

It maybe sounded like he was shaming him a bit, but he didn't mean it that way. He just didn't want August to ever try that again.

"I found Kaine. And-and Jenelle. But, uh, didn't wanna call them over with squirrelkid hanging around."

That certainly was one reason why. August didn't need to know the litany of other reasons he had.

"Wouldn't mind some cover while I see about calling them back or something."

It probably wasn't necessary; August would be help enough. But it'd let him avoid having to really confront just how bad he was hurt for just a bit longer. Just a little extra time to brace for the inevitable, awful conclusion.

[Shiola]

Crispin?

The guy was a bully and an asshole, but August’s prismatic eyes nonetheless widened in surprise when Austin mentioned his name. It was disheartening to imagine that things had escalated so quickly.

Not to a point they couldn’t fix, but still pretty far. Austin was alive, at least, but Crispin had more or less left him for dead. Maybe he’d been callous with the lives of other people before, maybe not. There had never been any reason to ask about something like that in high school.

If it happened again, August knew he had to do something about it.

Do something? How’s that working out?

August looked away when Austin mentioned that he’d shocked him as he was coming back. It didn’t wake him up. If he’d not panicked, if he’d waited - it would’ve been fine.

“...sorry.” He muttered, though Austin moved on before he noticed August said anything. He’d found Kaine and Jenelle, somehow. Didn’t call them over, but they were at least alive. As Austin mentioned calling them back, August’s mood seemed to brighten. With Austin here, it would be a lot easier to get people together. At the very least, every bit of information he could bring back would make it a little easier to feel hopeful.

August nodded in agreement, trying his best to sound like he was confident about their chances.

“Right, of course! That’s a good idea, we’ll - we’ll need help figuring all of this out. I’m cool keeping a lookout, but we should really get you somewhere where there’s cover.”

August peered over his shoulder, at the decaying guard house. It was sheltered enough, and easy for people to find.

That might not be a good thing.

Pushing the thought away, August stood up and grabbed his duffel bag, noting with a disdain how deflated and empty Austin’s seemed to be.

“That building over there looks like it might work.”

At the very least, he’d be able to keep an eye out for Mercy there, too. August kept that particular hope to himself.

“Can you walk?”

[almostinhuman]

"... I think so."

He wasn't terribly confident that he could, but they wouldn't know until they tried.

He put the bottle down, still unopened. With one arm, he started pushing himself up off the ground; he managed to get pretty well up, until he put weight on his left leg. Pain flared intensely in his ankle and compromised his balance; he fell hard on one knee, his left sandal slipping off his foot. The shock of the fall jostled his left wrist, causing a wave of raw agony to roll up his arm. He cradled it with his good arm, sucking air in through his teeth.

Tears once again welled in his eyes, unbidden and unwelcome. His helplessness felt overwhelming, and so fucking shameful. He was plotting revenge when he could barely even walk. He was the dumbest fucking cunt on Earth if he thought he could actually pull that off anymore. He'd be lucky not to end up the victim of some other psycho with even fewer scruples than Crispin. A psycho closer to himself, with the way he was thinking now.

"I-I..."

Don't fucking cry you weak fucking bitch. Get the fuck up.

He tried again, careful to shift as much weight as possible onto his right leg instead of his left. He scooped up his sandal in the process, keeping a hold of it; his left foot was barely touching the ground anymore, and the shoe was more likely to snag and trip him now than help his movement at all.

"Let's go... just be ready to catch me."

August was carrying his duffel bag, near-identical to Austin's pilfered one that lay nearby with its matching sleeping bag. His glasses lay on the ground next to these items; they'd flown off in the fight, but at least landed where they were easy to find. There was no way he was carrying any of it like this, though, or even picking it up on his own, even with how little of his stuff remained.

"And, uh, maybe you could grab some of my shit for me?" He gave a sheepish, apologetic frown. "Sorry, I know. Not that there's much left of it."

[Shiola]

August stood by awkwardly as Austin struggled to get to his feet. Half-heartedly he held out a hand, but Austin didn’t pay it any mind. When he fell to his knee, August rushed to his side.

“Oh, shit! Hey -”

Austin shot him a look. At first August worried he was afraid of touching him again, but after a moment he understood what it meant: Getting up on his own wasn’t going to do any favors for his actual wounds, but it might be a balm for Austin’s injured pride. Nevertheless, August stood ready in case he fell again.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

After a few moments of following Austin up to a standing position, August was confident enough the other boy was at least not going to fall down again, not here. Though he wanted to seem like he was confident on his feet, sturdy enough to lean on, a second wave of dizziness hit August just as the two of them stood up.

I sure hope this withdrawal doesn’t get any worse. I’m not exactly steady right now. I guess I shouldn’t be, all things considered. Is anyone feeling good right now, I wonder? Maybe Crispin. No, probably not. Even he is probably feeling kind of desperate and scared. People don’t do stuff like this because they’ve got it all together. Then again, he took Austin’s jacket. Means that this was probably more than a scuffle that got out of hand. Or he was feeling vindictive. I guess he can be scared, desperate, and a violent bully. That makes sense, and is terrible.

August tuned back in when Austin was halfway through asking if he could gather his things. Returning an apologetic nod, he set about gathering what was left.

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Sorry, wasn’t thinking.”

Hurriedly, he stuffed the sleeping bag and the few remaining supplies back inside, and slung Austin’s bag on the same shoulder as his own. Unfortunately, Austin’s glasses looked like they’d seen better days.

I guess he has other ways to see though, right?

Handing the glasses back to Austin, he decided against voicing that particular bit of optimism.

Silence fell between the two of them briefly, as they slowly made their way to the Guard House. He wanted to comfort Austin somehow, but little other than empty platitudes came to mind, at first. Things he wasn’t even sure he completely believed. As he discarded those ideas, August’s mind lingered on the thought of what depriving someone of supplies really meant out here, especially if one didn’t much believe in escape.

It made him angry, though he tried his best not to show it. At the very least, he finally thought of something positive to say. Sort of.

“If we see Crispin again, I’ll - well, we’ll get your stuff back. In the meantime, like, we can share if you need anything.”

[almostinhuman]

Austin took his glasses back, frowning. The left lense had survived unscathed, but the right hadn't been so fortunate; a spiderweb of cracks ran all over it. In this state they were effectively useless. He pocketed them with a sigh, before limping along with August to the smaller building. He was conscious of just how slow he was, of how unsteady his gait was, and of how he came close to toppling every time his left leg had to support him for even a fraction of a second. The ankle didn't feel broken, the way his wrist clearly was, but it couldn't handle much weight at all.

Halfway to the guardhouse August offered to help him with Crispin and retrieve the stuff he stole. A kind offer, in a vacuum. But August had no idea what he was truly offering, or who he was offering it to. Should he tell him? How would that make him look? August thought he was just a victim right now, but would he be so eager to help if he knew?

And, like, maybe that inkling Austin had was wrong. His memory had never been very good, especially not when he used his Gift, and he'd been stuck using it for God knows how long before they woke up. The first thing he could clearly remember after waking in this shithole was Crispin busting his nose in, and Crispin had always been a violent little hoodlum anyway. It made perfect sense that he'd start some crap like this, right?

...

No. Austin didn't remember the exact details very well, but he couldn't shake the feeling, so there must be something to it. He must have taken the first swing. Maybe Crispin egged him on or threatened him or something during that vague, hazy convo they had, but Austin was the first to escalate to violence. Didn't necessarily excuse the guy breaking his arm and stealing his shit, but he wasn't quite the innocent August seemed to think.

And he knew it was stupid to confess this to August, especially if he wanted his help dealing with the little bitch. Yet...

"Hey, so, Crispin's kind of a cunt, and I do want my shit back... but I think the fight might've been my fault? I-I... I don't really remember, but..."

How did he even begin describing this? It sounded ridiculous, like he was just blaming himself for no reason.

"My memory kind of sucks but I think I'm right. I think I hit him first."

[Shiola]

August stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Austin.

“Yeah?”

Fractals surrounded his broken-looking frame in August’s vision.

Truth be told, August didn’t really know Austin, not much beyond what he heard floating through social circles as he occasionally did. He was someone who you’d think would have a lot more empathy considering his Gift, but most people seemed to think Austin was a bit cold and surly. If August remembered correctly, Austin had worse sleep issues than he did.

So he understood why Austin was a bit prickly. People still made unkind comparisons to Jenelle, which August tried to ignore. Her damage was a little more obvious, and it pained August to see it play out in her behaviour, and the way people treated her back. Not that knowing any of that made it any less difficult to be around Austin.

Yet it was difficult to imagine Austin starting a fight with Crispin over anything other than Crispin being himself. Being an annoying prick in a stressful circumstance was a pretty surefire way to get someone else to throw hands - and there weren’t many situations more stressful than the one they were in.

For a moment August did wonder if either Austin or Crispin bought into the Owl’s pitch; the one that basically amounted to: please kill everyone else to show how BIG and STRONG and POWERFUL you are because we think we are BIG and STRONG and POWERFUL and we’re also VERY INSECURE and we NEED FRIENDS BADLY.

It was a worrying thought. August doubted it. Austin seemed too cynical for that.

He shook his head, and shrugged.

“I dunno if it matters, like - the guy beat the shit out of you, stole your food and water and left you to die. Doesn’t sound like somebody who was just defending himself, and you didn’t deserve that, even if you started it.”

That wasn’t just violence, it was spiteful. The fight starting was maybe on Austin, but what happened after certainly seemed to belong to Crispin.

“And like, you’re not the first person to want to take a swing at him. Guess it wasn’t a great idea, but I wouldn’t blame you, y’know, given who he is and where we are.”

Once again, he turned from Austin and looked around the area. The sunlight threw more distortions into his vision, but he tried to see past them, watching for movement. For the moment, there was nothing.

Looking back, he tried to meet Austin’s eyes.

His tone softened a bit.

“I’d like you to tell me, if you remember why. I wanna know. But I promise you, it won’t change what’ll happen if he turns up. He’ll have to give your stuff back. Crispin-”

August caught his words before they left his lips.

There wasn’t any better way to say what he wanted to say. Maybe someone else would’ve said it with bravado, but August’s tone of voice was level, carrying nothing even resembling pride.

He was only stating a fact, one that should’ve made him feel safe. It didn’t. He sighed, and continued in a monotone.

“Crispin can’t fight me. I don’t think anyone here could.”

[almostinhuman]

August was... surprising.

Austin'd known he was good people, sure; they weren't friends, but they shared a mutual friend or two, at least. But he hadn't spoken so directly with him before, far as he remembered. He regretted it now. He'd braced himself for judgement, disdain, even rejection, and he would've deserved it too. But August had little of that to give. His compassion continued largely unabated, like Austin had confessed to a far milder offense. Assault out here was little different than attempted murder, but August seemed willing to look past it.

It made him feel fucking rotten. He deserved precisely none of this kindness.

Especially since the wheels started turning in his head the second August brought up how powerful he was. It was easy to forget, given everything August had to do just to fit in, but the dude wasn't bragging, and it was clearly not a point of pride. He sounded a little ashamed of that capacity for destruction, and of the fact he may have to bring it to bear. Yet Austin couldn't help himself. Even if August wouldn't kill Crispin, he could certainly humble him, and that would be almost as sweet. Austin didn't care about doing the deed himself, as long as the deed was eventually done.

Not that he could admit any of that. He'd already tested August's empathy once, and found it unexpectedly bountiful, but he doubted it could last infinitely.

"Hm. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

A part of him hoped they never met again. Even if such an end would satisfy Austin, it would destroy August. But if the opportunity presented itself, he wasn't sure he could resist. And even if he could, he wasn't sure Crispy would be smart enough to hold back when threatened. Dude was a demented little chipmunk at the best of times, and it was rarely the best of times when he was around.

They continued to the guardhouse. Austin entered first, examining the place. It'd seemed like it'd been out of use for quite some time, but he doubted it looked that much better back when it was new. It'd probably never been anything more than functional enough, and now it was somewhat less than functional. But it'd do as shelter in a pinch.

Austin dropped his sandal and tried to awkwardly slip it back on; broken glass littered the floor, and he wasn't risking any more injuries if he could help it. Quickly he realized that wasn't happening. The center of the strap had torn away from the sole at some point, probably during his fight with Crispin. If his ankle wasn't fucked he might still be able to keep it on, but as things were now it was basically unwearable. Mendable, perhaps, if he had anything to mend it with, but Crispin had ensured he didn't.

"That's just... so great." He kicked it away in frustration. It seemed the shitkicking of his dignity would know no goddamn end today.

He located a spot opposite the entrance that seemed clear of debris and sat down, back to the wall. His hair fell in front of his eye and he brushed it aside, hissing as his hand grazed the semi-parallel gashes Crispy had dug into his face. Their bleeding had slowed, but it hadn't stopped, and his right hand came away lightly smeared with blood. He was likely risking some kind of infection there, at this rate.

He didn't want to think about it. He turned his attention back to August.

"Right, um. Anyone you want me to look for in particular? Just a warning, it could take me a while to find them."

[Shiola]

August hoped they could avoid conflict, but he wasn’t feeling especially optimistic. People were going to test one another. Someone was going to try to test him. He really didn’t want anyone to try that. The only thing worse than replying in kind would be folding under the pressure, and letting the violence intensify.

The guardhouse was a mess on the inside, and August cringed slightly as Austin walked past the broken glass with his mostly uncovered feet. He tried his best to guide Austin as he moved through the room, though he got the distinct impression that Austin might react badly to help, even given the pain he was in. The broken sandal kicked across the floor only added to that impression. Once he’d sat down, however, August found enough courage to kneel down next to him.

Brushing aside the debris on the floor and setting down the duffel bags, he quickly retrieved the First-Aid kit that he was issued. As he rifled through it for bandages and antiseptic wash, it occurred to him how strange it was to be given something like this in a death game. Austin gave him a look as he started pulling out the supplies, but August ignored him, momentarily thrown off by the notion that a band-aid would make someone stronger or deadlier in this context.

As Austin spoke up, August paused and looked back at him. Whatever composure he’d been able to keep flickered a bit as he thought to answer.

It would really be nice to know who’s okay, and who isn’t. I didn’t really want to think about it.

He blinked, and sighed. Admittedly he’d zoned out during Austin’s Gift Presentation in Primary School, and couldn’t well remember how it all worked. Plus, he’d probably be looking for his sister first.

I’d like to know if they’re alive, though.

After a pause, he answered.

“Well… I mean, I’m… uhh … I’m really worried about Mercedes.”

Another pause, before he continued in something of a hurry.

“She’s gonna have a hard time out here if she hasn’t found shade. Everyone’s gotta be kinda messed up right now, but if they just left her outside like they left me, she could really be in trouble.”

Not just her though, right?

“And uh, I know Noah was next to me and Kaine on the bus with me when everything happened - it’d be nice to know if he was still alive, too. But like, do what you’ve gotta do. You should probably let Jenelle know where you are first if you can, if it works like that. I’ll uhh… I’ll patch you up and then keep watch.”

Austin seemed to understand, though August couldn’t tell how far he’d read into his request. In another context he’d have been a little bit embarrassed to seem that obvious about it. It wasn’t an issue much longer, as before long Austin closed his eyes and fell limp.

As deftly as he was able, August set about cleaning and dressing his various injuries. The wrist looked off and he wasn’t sure he wanted to try to set it, but the rest was easy enough. At home he’d collected a few guides on first-aid, particularly standard procedures for people with potentially dangerous Gifts. All for a plan of a co-op for people who didn’t feel like they could mold themselves or their Gifts too well into the rest of society.

For a minute August thought about the people that put them here, and then he tried very hard not to.

[almostinhuman]

August started tidying up the space, sweeping at the scattered debris and prepping the first-aid kit from his pack. A mix of guilt and embarrassment ached in Austin's gut; August was wasting supplies on him, when he'd been too weak to keep his own safe. Not to mention the fact that his injuries were his own damn fault. Even the cleanup was more for Austin's benefit than anything... but he was in no position to complain. He shot an ashamed look at August, but said nothing to dissuade him from his work.

August did respond to his question, at least. Right. Mercedes and Noah. Noah was a buddy of his, so that part would be easy, provided he'd survived the gas and hadn't gotten bushwhacked in the meantime. Mercedes didn't like him, though, he'd definitely picked up on that vibe; he didn't know if he'd done something to offend her or it was just his not-so-sterling reputation to blame. Hopefully she'd still listen anyway, with them stuck in this grim shit and all. She was kinda hotheaded, but she never seemed too unreasonable, and given their environment she'd need plenty of help.

And, y'know, it was hard to ignore their powers. Both quite dangerous, if a little less than ideal for their day-to-day lives. And both really really hated Crispin... though maybe not enough to graduate to murder right off the bat. Especially not Noah with how sensitive as he was. Still, it was an angle to consider.

There were others he wanted to find, too. Kaine was probably already on his way, despite being told to stay put. And as for Jenelle...

...

Well, aside from them, there was also Kyle, and Sayuna, and Stephen; he knew for a fact they'd all gone on the trip. And maybe some folks he hadn't noticed on the bus. He had no idea how many had signed up, or how many had survived long enough to be dumped here. He hoped they hadn't grabbed too many of them.

He nodded at August, then he laid down.

The miserable pain faded in an instant. Good. Any sort of relief was welcome.

Even if it meant dealing with being in August's body for a second.

His eyes swirled with fractal shapes at the edges of his vision, a myriad of colors framing his sight. It was disorienting enough on its own, though it was beautiful in a way. What was even more disorienting and far less beautiful was this odd... pressure? Presence? He didn't know if he had words for what he felt. Like the air around him was almost a part of himself? Or maybe not the air so much as, like... energy? He could feel it bouncing off his skin, tingling with power.

He could feel, for a moment, exactly what August must feel for his entire life. He didn't envy him.

He also couldn't stay. He had friends to find.

((Austin Greene continued in Dark, Darker, Yet Darker))

[Deamon]

[[Ana Ford: Start]]

Something was poking her in the face. It was rhythmic. Bop, pause, bop, pause, bop. Ana scrunched her eyes shut tighter and tried to raise a hand to push it away but instead, she found herself covered in a fabric cocoon. Meanwhile, the occasional pokes to the face continued. Bop, pause, bop. She entertained a couple more pokes before opening her eyes to find herself face to face with the parasite. It froze halfway through the movement of poking her again then decided it had already made the effort and poked her anyway. Bop.

"I'm awake," Ana grumbled, withdrawing an arm from whatever she was stuck in and batting the parasite away. It made as if it was going to poke her again, clearly finding the activity quite enjoyable before she asserted more control and it settled down into a semi-solid blob at her side.

Withdrawing her other arm Ana set them at her sides and pushed herself up into a seated position. She had been placed in a sleeping bag; her mouth twisted as she bit her lip remembering what had happened and why she was lying in the sand of a desert. As the images of the events rushed back through her head she gagged and sharply turned to the side retching. The parasite recoiled from her for fear of getting splattered but nothing came up from her bowels.

The parasite twisted around and slithered out from her unbidden. Meanwhile, Ana blinked the tears from her eyes as she watched it snake out and encircle a light grey duffel bag. It started to wrap itself around the bag and drag it towards her, leaving a trail in the sand.

"Thanks," She mumbled as she withdrew the rest of her body from the sleeping bag. While her left hand rubbed at her still wet eyes, her right reached out for the duffel bag and pulled it onto her lap. The part of the parasite on the ground took the opportunity to flow up her arm and reform with the rest, not that it had ever fully disconnected from her. It settled on her shoulder blades and went still as she opened the bag.

It had S036 printed on it, which Ana guessed was her number, and contained the kind of generic items you'd expect for a hike or camping trip. After assessing and packing away her new belongings, along with her sleeping bag, Ana looked around at her surroundings. She had woken up lying in the sand of some sort of desert but a building sat directly behind her. It wasn't actually a building of any real size, more of a hut than anything else. But it was a start and a location she could stay in so she could better get her bearings.

Standing up for the first time Ana found her legs shaky, but she put that down to the repeated druggings. Druggings that apparently not everyone on the trip had made it through. The thought brought on a fresh wave of nausea but Ana tried to tamp down on the feeling and instead began to put one leg in front of the other.

Making her way around the guard hut, Ana stepped through the open door to find herself directly opposite a student she vaguely recognized lying on the floor next to a wall, he looked badly hurt, like someone had beaten him up. Beside him was one of her classmates. The parasite reared up on her shoulder and Ana's eyes darted between the pair as she stood frozen in the doorway.