Ace ran to her side first, stopping a foot away. He looked at her and his mind stung. People weren’t supposed to be in two pieces. Raven wasn’t supposed to be in two pieces. The thought left errors as he tried to compute it—his mind on fire, trying to keep it away. Distantly he heard cloth rip and watched it fall over her. Hunter sharply turned him away and searched deep into his eyes.

“We don't have to see it." He said as if he saw Ace, still trying to make sense. The fire in his friend's mind went out, but under it, there was a storm. His heart was against him, radiating something that made his chest tight. He wished he could pull it out and toss it aside.

“Why does this hurt so damn much.” He panted. Why was he panting?

Abigail wrapped her arms around him, tucking his head into her shoulder. “You were in love with her, weren’t you? I was too.” She whimpered. “I understand. Every part of me hurts.” He felt her tears on his cheek. He swallowed hard.

“When…” He didn’t want to let it through, but he still whimpered. “When they first brought us to the Enclave, she was the only other kid. She was the only other small person I met. Everyone else was older, and looked so weird to me. After all that time alone, I didn’t feel like I belonged with them… but with her...”

She was smaller than him, even back then. He still remembered that terrified look on her face. Both of their worlds had suddenly changed. After four years in the quiet of dark buildings, they both got used to being alone. Other people didn't exist. An outside world didn't exist. Their lives were just that of a lonely child until the Enclave's scouts arrived. The exploding wall shook Ace to his core, and then these tall figures came clad in dark Refraction Armor. They didn’t give him the choice of being saved. Spotting him, someone picked him up like a bag, while the others searched the small shop where he was found. There was no one else. There never had been, as far as Ace knew. That left the Scouts defeated, and even when they found Raven in another building, their spirits didn’t come back. The two were left in silence in the back of a van. Realizing they had the same jarring experience, Ace looked at her and saw a girl that wished she could shrink down to nothing. The explosion reminded him of how his home moved around, and he wondered if hers had never done the same. He didn’t have words—didn’t know how to talk, but sat beside her to hold her hand, saying more than words could convey. Nothing made sense, but the two would figure things out together. Even when words were learned, and their lives changed, they still had those held hands. They still held hands now and again, finding a place where only the two of them existed. His heart thumped. That place was in ruins now, with a crimson light raging above it.

“Raven convinced me to be done with this life.” Abigail tried to laugh. “She showed me that there were better reasons to live.” She tried even harder, knowing she’d cry if she failed.

Abigail had been prepared for this life by the time she was fourteen. Having the highest combat score of any girl was one thing, but she could match most of the boys her age, and a few of the older ones too. She had learned to be the best—becoming the face of it. For someone like her, conquering the city was the only thing allowed in her mind. Until Raven appeared. The girl was never interested in their scores. Maybe she put a lot of thought into it when she was at the barracks, but outside, in front of Abigail, she only thought of models. Their first interaction felt like a passing chance. The girl came up with a magazine in hand, asking a simple question. Do you like this outfit? Abigail was used to her training uniform by then, but between the mix of colors and the ruffle of the skirt, she couldn’t take her eyes off the page. Or the ones that came after it. Raven thought the outfit matched Abigail well, and couldn’t resist the urge to tell her. That’s how their friendship started, and the older girl’s life changed. How many times had they sat together just looking at clothes? How many times did Raven say Abigail could make any outfit pretty? How was it that she only just realized she was in love? She held Ace tighter, feeling how much he understood the error.

“Hey King…” Hunter turned from them as if to give them their moment. “What happened? You know about these things right?” He raised his band. King looked, eyes suddenly heavy with exhaustion.

“I don’t know.” He murmured. “It just doesn’t make sense. They’ve been using the weapon bands for all this time. They run maintenance on them regularly. The only way to figure out what went wrong is on the arm of the red bastard.” He looked at his own like it was a double-agent. Knight put a hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to meet his eyes.

“You’re going to make it back to the Enclave. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t make a promise like that.”

“I can if I can make it true.”

Hunter turned from them, giving as much privacy as the moment would allow. He went to Abigail and Ace as their embrace ended. Her eye were red, and Ace’s fists were clenched. He didn't know Raven that well, but he could see how much she meant to them. How much did they hurt? How hard were they fighting to keep themselves together? He thought of Judge, wondering if it was the same for him. Hunter clenched his fists too—his brow furrowing.

"We're going to graduate. When we do, I'm living up to my name." Assassin gave it to him for a reason. In his time in training, Hunter tracked down everyone with a higher combat score and fought relentlessly. There were still some people above him, but he climbed because of his tenacity. He'd use that now to live in the city, hunting any flash of red that crossed his sight. He glared as the two looked at him. They exhaled as if he took their rage.

Fang stayed silent. She watched the moment between Ace and Abigail, and the moment between King and Knight. Hunter's bold claim was inspiring, but her jaw still tightened. Raven would be alive if she didn't tell them to ignore the Gray. What was the point of a high Leadership score, if her first command lost them a life? And it was on her to lead them forward too. Their faces blurred to her. How many more of them would she lead to their death? They shouldn’t suffer for her. They shouldn’t trust her with their lives. Her face was stone as she looked at them, but something inside was liquid, churning like a whirlpool.

Assassin took her hand.

“We’ll get that Red Guy, all right?” His eyes were sharp again, but there was no smile in them. It had been a while since she saw him like this, but sure enough, those were the eyes of the boy who had the highest combat score since he was ten. "Just lead us there, boss. I'll take the guy down." He smiled and she breathed deep. She was the leader, and without her, more of them might die.

“I’m sorry we can’t take her with us.” She spoke to be heard. “We’ll come back though, and give her a proper funeral. For now, we have to finish climbing.” She pointed to the ceiling. The others followed. They could only see the trail of the Crimson in their minds.

Before they continued, Fang checked the halls. Sure enough, the wall out there was gone too. She signaled to the others—they could proceed the normal way. They followed the once lavish corridor until they reached the rooftop access. The door pried open with ease, and ascending to the roof, they found themselves outside again. The top of the building rose wryly from the ground, dropping them on an empty street, dead-ending on a small building’s courtyard. Their visors picked up nothing. Fang traced a circle on the side of hers and a map filled her line of sight. Her dot flashed in front of the X of their destination. She looked at the small building ahead, concentrating her focus on another scan. There was truly nothing else around. She signaled this to the others, and they cautiously proceeded forward. A crumbled sign split the path, sitting on a diamond of dead grass. They didn’t try to piece it together, continuing to the door instead. It sat beyond a disused guard station, and standing in front of it was a sight that didn’t make sense.

Two people were there. Two actual people. Light didn't emanate from bodies clad in dark fatigues. They stood in boots, pressing a card against the wall, seemingly confused that nothing was happening. They both seemed male from a distance. The one on the right bore a bulked-up figure, wide muscles straining the fabric of his gear. His hair was buzzed, and a tattoo decorated the pale flesh of his neck. The one to the right had a healthier complexion. His peachy tone seemed to confirm the difference between their ages, lending aid to the long blond hair and gauges in his ears. He was slimmer than his partner, with an almost lanky stature. As the bulky man pressed the card to the wall again, the blond reached to take it. The action turned his head slightly. His eyes widened as he saw the Numbers, and he slapped his partner's shoulder, making him turn too.

What was the protocol for survivors? Fang had to think. A part of her wanted to think about this moment. Who were these two, and why did they seem like they were here for a reason? She should interrogate, definitely, but should she follow survivor protocol first? Should she tell them about the Enclave? She took them in again. Their dark fatigues were in good shape, and both had machetes strapped to their backs. They weren’t just survivors, were they? And why were they at the Numbers’ destination? No, she had a better question than that. Did the Crimson see them and let them live?

“Identify yourselves!” She demanded. The blond snickered.

“They didn’t waste time sending more of you out, huh?” He stretched and his partner laughed.

“Just more livestock to slaughter.”

Hunter stomped forward. “Are you really about to attack us! We’re all clearly human, and you wanna kill us?” The men laughed.

“Listen to the piggy squeal.” Blondie cackled.

“You should have listened to the message we sent back. This city is ours, if we see you in it, you die." They drew their machetes.

Turning to each other, they suddenly swung. Blondie opened Bulk's neck, as the blade smashed into his head. Their bodies fell quickly, but before they hit the ground, crystals erupted from their wounds. They broke into shards, spinning into rings above their heads. As if it held them up, their bodies came off the ground. The Numbers charged without hesitation, but the spinning rings whipped up a wind, burning blue as it held them back. The same blue light broke like fingers through the men’s chests, ripping upward to peel their flesh away. What remained made the city worse. Their skin dyed to cobalt with navy sinew sitting where muscles tightened. Eyes glared out from the searing holes in their chest, crowding together to glimpse outside. Where Bulk’s eyes once were, feathers grew like a blooming flower, stretching to the side of his face; beating once as they became wings. Blondie’s wings grew from his shoulders, breaking the flesh like a budding seed. The wings burned white as the winds died down. The Blues stood there for a moment, breathing in the ecstasy of their transformation, as the Numbers stared with tightened jaws. Then Bulk vaulted through the air.

A held punch blasted forward as he landed. Abigail and Knight caught it on their shields—saving King’s life, but getting launched back all the same. The three of them landed away from the others, and as Bulk vaulted again, the others ran forward. Blondie slid forward like something on a rail. A long thin blade blurred around him, cutting their advance until Assassin stopped it. It fought and he rolled around it, stabbing for the eye. The flesh shrieked like stone as Blondie pulled away. Their eyes met and the Blue frowned—joy stolen from this moment. Hunter slipped forward and Assassin caught the sword again. He smiled as his friend got away, and Blondie bared dark crystal teeth.

Bulk was smashing after the others. With them separate he hopped from one to the next, leaving craters where bodies might fall. Without a shield, King was his favorite treat. His arms fell like falling trees, impossible to stop with the toothpick of a glaive. King could only guide the blows away. Each parry put him off balance though, leaving him open when the arm swung up. King spun high into the air. Bulk vaulted after him, throwing arms above them both.

"Luminance Amplify!" Red light poured off Knight—rising after them. A broadsword crunched through Bulk’s arm, throwing him into a spin. He roared up at the interruption. Knight met him with a slash, starting the fall. He took King’s hand as his descent began, calling out, “Luminance Condense,” as they touched the ground.

“We have to be careful with that.” King met his eyes. His heart thundered while they were in the air. He might have died, sure, but the amplification scared him more. Knight smirked.

“It’s safe to assume the time reading was wrong, right? If I use it in small bursts, I should be good.” That was a safe assumption, but King's heart still ached. Could he say they should be careful when Bulk was already on his feet?

The knees bent as the man’s arms grew back. Touching the ground as he looked at them, he remembered the football fantasies of his youth. He tossed up concrete as he let his charge go. Knight turned—slow as a falling cloth—and Bulk opened his mouth as if to take a bite.

“Luminance Amplify!” Something split his jaw. For a moment, he wondered where a tiger came from. It wasn’t a tiger though, but the red-head boy. Hunter punched into his neck next, and all Bulk’s eyes knew where the next blade would go. He took the blade through his arm, saving his chest; tossing the boy aside. As he flew, Bulk realized his heart could still beat. He felt it stop as Abigail’s lance pushed through him. As it pulled back, his mind cried out. When did she say Luminance Amplify?

While burning pink, Abigail’s lance bashed the side of his head. As it jerked she punched her shield into its wings. His body snapped back, and she swung around. “Auxiliary Weapon,” a curving greatsword ripped through his knees. He thrust his arms out, trying to catch himself. Hunter’s leg swept them up, and his blade arched down. Feathers flew as he punched into Bulk’s head. Hunter dipped away as arms came around to crush him. Once again, the arms were lost; Knight’s sword swinging down. This left him open for something spinning above. King’s glaive cut, splitting the body down the center. As the pieces pulled apart, a surviving eye looked at the boy.

“Luminance Condense.” His was blue, and that filled the eye with envy.

“Want Power?” Something replied in his dying mind.

♦

Blondie had ten swords controlled by each of his fingers. He didn’t have to move them, only give it a thought. Simply imagining his fingers let him move the swords like the strings of a guitar. He had used them to make epic music, especially recently, when the Enclave livestock came into their kingdom. He diced some of those guys before their friends’ bodies dropped. And when he did move his fingers, the air around him was death. So why? Why? Why was this boy able to block his slashes!? Why did it feel like two blades were in twenty places at once? Why did it feel like he was fighting more than one person? Assassin drew first blood from his face, and something tore down his back. Right. He was fighting three people, and one of them had gotten behind. He turned his swords on her; there was no way they had two people this good! She flipped away, and he couldn’t understand how he missed. Because he had to have missed. There was no way this girl could move that fast.

His head suddenly snapped around. A kick was the cause, thrown as Ace came leaping in. It snapped the other way as he landed and spun; Blondie’s eyes quaking in his chest. Ace threw punches, making each of them his target. Blondie’s hands shot up as his body wavered. His fingers folded and blades swung in. Five of them stopped as Assassin sliced forward—tearing through the elbow as he pried off the shoulder. The other five sliced down Blondie’s body, driven awry as Fang tore into muscle. Ace kicked his chin up. Arm blades went forward like scissors. Blondie watched his head twirl away from his body, seeing it hit the ground as the rest of him fell. Words filled his dying ears.

“Want Power?”

His mind cried out, “Yes!” And Bulk’s did too. Crimson light erupted from their chest, burning hot like metal against their flesh. Eyes returned and cooked to black, glowing with red gem irises—torn and lost parts came back crimson. Plating grew over Bulk’s arms and hands. His winged head grew out—small wings growing to hang from a blue face. Blondie's head grew back, and the wings stretching from his shoulders twisted, folding into arms. They shrieked to the sky, and the Crimson dropped in front of the building behind them. It smiled when the Numbers spotted it. They had their fun, and it wanted the chance to play…