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 Spread the Red [Drugged/Open]

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PostSubject: Spread the Red [Drugged/Open]   Thu Oct 06, 2016 3:14 am

Arianne was doodling in the corner of her english book when it happened. One minute, she was listening to Ms Nabell speaking softly about the significance of Iambic Pentameter in Shakespeare, and then the next, a voice wrung in her head.

'Kids, Order 66.'

Then the world went blank.

A vortex formed around the redhead where she sat, tables, chairs, students, all being flung against the wall without any hesitation. There was the crunch of wood and bones, the shrill screams of surprised students and the dangerous creak of the walls from the pressure imposed by her powers. The classroom became a nightmare realm within seconds, and no amount of fruitless shouting from Ms Nabell could reach her.

Arianne was offline.


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PostSubject: Re: Spread the Red [Drugged/Open]   Fri Oct 07, 2016 1:40 am

It'd been building up in her head like a time bomb. She could feel it creeping up on her from behind, a hot cluster of a migraine that ate away at the back of her thoughts, the daily thorn prick of irritation every waking moment. I'm going crazy. Misty Harris sparked up another cigarette and slouched back in Leroy's chair, her boots kicked up on the desk. He just frowned from the corner, silent, and snatched his lighter out of the air as she tossed it back to him. Whenever she closed her eyes, the shadows would flit and shift in her vision, murky, indistinct.

What was a point of a gift like that? Misty brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. She'd always been a bit of a health nut, even as a little girl, but she'd never tried to cut down on the smokes. Even if they cut a few years off her life, they stopped the headaches. That was the trade-off.

Leroy gave a quiet sigh of disapproval, slipping the lighter back into his pocket. This was their quick break, a half hour or so before they had to return to their classes, but unlike her, he had a strict 'no smoking indoors' policy. She'd used to spend these breaks with Spion, but...

Well, none of them liked to talk about Spion.

At least Leroy wasn't the type to scold her for harming her pretty little lungs. He was just as guilty, just more discrete.

"You know, for a health teacher..."

"I'm gonna cut you off right there, Zykov,"

"So formal," he sighed, his voice tinged with just the hint of an accent. It was subtle, but she swore he sounded more American by the day. "You don't seem like you're in a joking mood today."

That was his mistake. "I'm never in the mood for your jokes," she retorted, rubbing at her temple with a curled palm.

"This is my classroom," he said, the beginning of a smirk touching the corner of his lips. "As long as you're spending your breaks here, you better start getting used to my jokes. That's the law of the land."

Misty groaned, letting her head fall back against the chair. "I feel bad for your students." Her head was pounding. It felt like someone driving an icepick into her skull. Couldn't she just turn her power off?

"Something tells me they prefer the jokes to the whip..."

"Careful." She was a gym teacher, not a T-ball coach. Being tough was part of the job.

"Around you? Always."

She just snorted and clenched her eyes shut, trying to shut out the flashes in her head. Misty had been looking forward to this break all day, but now that she was just sitting around, she couldn't wait to get back to class. Getting the blood flowing would help, even if it was just a small distraction from the pain in her head.

Still, the quiet was refreshing.

These days, with everything that had happened in the last few months, it was good that they could still joke.

Silence stretched over the empty classroom, one last quiet moment.

That's when it all went to hell.

Screams rippled across the building, and Misty Harris went flying out of her chair and into the wall.

For a second, it was all too distant. The screams, the explosions, the ringing in her skull. For a second, she couldn't be sure if any of it was real, if she was in bed waking up for the day or if it had all really happened. If only... Misty stirred from the floor, brushing the debris from her tank top, blinking.

"Misty? Misty!"

"I'm alright..." she breathed, pulling herself to her knees and glancing around. It was like a hurricane had blown through. The entire classroom was destroyed. "What happened? Is it—...?"

Zykov's body had changed. In the blink of an eye, he'd transformed from a man to a hulking golem, standing upright among all the destruction.

"I don't know," he said, shifting back into that familiar face once again, so quick that she wasn't sure if it had just been a hallucination. His clothes were torn, but he looked unharmed from the sudden blast of energy. Down the hall, something howled like a storm. "But if you can walk, come with me. The children... We have to get them to safety."

That was enough. Misty grabbed onto the desk, or what was left of it, and hauled herself to her feet, letting out a ragged cough. "Alright... Alright. Let's hurry, Leroy."

Was now the day? Of all days?

Her headache had disappeared.

Leroy led the charge down the hellscape. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible. No matter how he tried to reason with it, he couldn't wrap his head around how something like this could happen. They weren't untouchable here, and he knew that better than anyone, but Beata Academy was a safe haven. A fortress. Even without Wray, how could they strike so quick, so hard, so...?

He skid to a stop outside Nira's classroom, horror etched across his face. The door had been blown to splinters, and the entire room had cleared out in a circle around her, tables and bodies smashed against the walls.

"Arianne!" he shouted.


A student had caused all of this? Just... one student?

There wasn't any time to hesitate, or question it, or do anything except charge in.

He had to save the students. He had to save Nira. He had to save Arianne.

"Misty, behind me!"

Leroy shifted, grew, fur replacing clothes, angel-like wings fanning out behind him, growing until he towered over the rest of them, his head almost scraping the ceiling. Horns sprouted from his head, curling like a ram's. It couldn't be recognized as anything except a demon, but just one glance at the young girl in front of him screamed 'death.' He'd known Arianne ever since she first stepped foot on this campus, but he'd never seen any power on a level like this. Claws shot out from his nails, black as iron, as long as swords, as sharp as blades.

No matter what, he couldn't hold back. He needed the most perfect form he had.

His roar resonated through the building.

Zykov shot forward like a bullet, faster than any monster of his side had any right to be, winding back his claws toward the girl in front of him, closing the distance between them in an instant.

Arianne, I'm sorry.

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