Open Black Moon Academy - School for the Gifted

Serena saw Priam's stance, and the instant his muscles tensed, she knew where he was going. She found it almost easy to move away from his... Claws?! Okay, claws. Freaky. Regardless, it was still easy to avoid them. Unfortunately she might have focused on them a bit too much, because she didn't even see a hint of his leg kicking at her. His foot caught her square in the gut, and she reeled back, coughing, trying to distance herself from him.

Well, a lot of good her powers were doing her so far. She thought that maybe it'd be better if she were to just forfeit. She was inclined to believe that Priam knew what he was doing. He certainly didn't lack for confidence. Surrender at least got her out of this unscathed (minus a sore tummy). Then again, Priam hardly came off as friendly.

She decided it was best to just keep going for now. She happened to be back where she started, and in one swift motion, snatched one of her shoes off the ground. She saw the line she had to throw it on, and nailed it. The shoe hit the ground, bouncing back up, straight at Priam's head. If she hadn't been in the middle of a fight, she'd have taken a moment to admire how perfectly she hit the line. As it was, she had to charge at him again, sliding to try and kick his legs while the shoe distracted him.

She didn't time the slide as perfectly as she had the throw, but it still seemed adequate. If she could get him off balance, she could probably just grab him by the collar and toss his scrawny butt out of the ring.

((Damn it! I went to sleep and then there was a posting spree, then I had to leave the hotel before I could write anything! >.< Oh well, today was awesome enough to be worth it.))

James silently observed as the students started piling in. They mostly looked normal (apart from Darth Vader, of course), but the events going on... events involving dirigibles and haz-mat vans and what appeared in his perception to be someone arriving in a Hearse of all things. It's hilarious at first, until you realize that it's real.

After everyone arrived, the headmistress and someone else arrived and talked about something that James absently listened to. The names started to be called and he listened intently for his name.

"6C! James Levin and Nestor McLane!"

That was him, now to find Nestor... He focused for a while to try to find him amongst the mental noise from the other students, but his eyes eventually met his. He held out his hand to him, offering a handshake.

This just kept getting better and better.

Now he had to fight. In a dim room, with the person who would become his roommate. As Nestor stepped into an arena, he noticed his opponent was very tall. How'd he'd be able to land a hit against him, he didn't know. There was absolutely no greenery in this place; perhaps there were vermin. He didn't want to try those hamsters again, what with their owner raving about them being dark gods or something...

Snapping back to reality, he noticed his roomy had extended his hand, and he heartily shook back. "Well, we'd better start. Shall we?" Nestor mentally searched the room for any life. He found a few stray cockroaches, some mice, and patches of moss. Sighing, he commanded these into the ring, where the rodents took aggressive stances. The bugs, on the other hand, seemed more fidgety than usual. He could feel his opponent smirking. After all, he'd think this was pathetic. Mice? Roaches? James would think he was a pushover. Angered at the thought, he sent the roaches to swarm around him while the mice scurried up his pants. His bug troops were quickly stomped down; meanwhile, the mice were doing their job. Nestor's opponent was dancing a little jig. Feeling a little more confident than usual, he meekly put up his fists in the position he'd often saw in martial arts movies, awaiting James' attack.

Thomas was roused from his symphonies by a cry of “ It’s so cute!” piercing through his supposedly noise-cancelling headphones. He turned to look, removing his earbuds. A hamster had broken loose from one of the kids and was being fawned over by several other students. And while it was excessively cute, as Thomas had to admit, its owner showed far less glee at his pet’s display. He declared himself as Gundam Tanaka, owner of the Four Dark Gods Of Destruction, which were apparently the little balls of fuzz that were on his person. He also seemed to be fond of throwing the term ‘mortal’ around, the implications of which were both pretentious and ludicrous, as well as terrifying if it rung true. Thomas smirked, but took another note to stay away from this Gundam because either a). these hamsters were actually quite destructive and dangerous, or more likely, b). Gundam was stark raving mad. As tensions rose between Gundam and the boy who had called one of the Gods a ‘fuzzy-bwuzzy’, a group of adults, some of the first Thomas had seen all day, approached. They welcomed the motley group to the academy. As well as laying down some ground rules, Thomas picked up some important point from their address. Mainly, he had to find the cafeteria to eat. As hungry as he was now, that would probably be a priority. This would be a regular school, as he had suspected, but of course there were going to be certain special classes to deal with their... powers, as they could be called. And someone had crashed a dirigible in front of the school. Thomas wondered how he had missed it.

Their combat teacher was named Moriarty of all things. Moriarty, like the famous fictitious criminal mastermind in the Sherlock Holmes stories. Thomas wondered if he might be a descendant, as he certainly could pull of the evil look. He seemed like he would be harsh, like a drill sergeant, yet he also seemed like he would be a good teacher as well, and he certainly got the "Demean the trainees” part down. Thomas almost felt sorry for the boy in the gas mask, who seemed to have it worse than the rest. His fear helped to mask that.

They were lead into a basement with several rings that mimicked those that boxers or sumo wrestlers would use for practice, yet slightly smaller. Thomas had a bad feeling about what these were for, and he was unfortunately right. Sparring, of all things. He couldn’t fight! He had no idea as to how aside from the swordplay and combat he had seen in video games. And he could only concentrate to use his power on a large scale when he was focused. He supposed he had no choice but to try, though. He didn’t want failure again, and this would be a pretty important opportunity to show what he could do. He resolved to win.

That is, until, he heard Moriarty call his name.

“And 7C! Thomas Lang and Priscilla Messina!”

Priscilla, who was that? As the others took their places, Thomas saw it was the younger girl, oddly dressed, with an umbrella in one hand and what he assumed was a textbook in the other. Now he had to fight against someone who clearly appeared to have a disadvantage. And he didn’t want to hurt anyone either.

“I shouldn’t think like that, though, especially not here.” he thought. “Anyone can be dangerous here. The kid in the gas mask would be just like me, I suppose, if he wasn’t wearing it. And didn’t the headmistress imply that she crashed a dirigible?”

Thomas slowly walked over to a ring.When he entered it, he placed his headphones in his ears, and played a soothing concerto to allow him to focus. He turned the volume down, which would take a toll on the strength he could muster, but he would at least be able to hear his opponent. He adapted the best combat stance he could muster, though it was quite clumsy. He stood with space between his legs, to allow for movement, with his hands in fists in front of him. A boxing stance, as he had seen in a game once. He really had no idea how to maneuver it, or how to properly fight, but he would figure something out.

And then, as an appregiated series of chords resolved into a resounding declaration at fortississimo, inspiration struck.


“I’m used to withstanding my own fields, for some reason. It doesn’t make sense, but maybe it has something to do with how I create them. So, if I make a field behind her... I should be able to fight, while she’ll be struggling to move! It’ll need a lot of power though... Probably... about a beach ball radius this time.” He nodded to himself, dropped his stance, and waited for his opponent. He wouldn’t try to hurt her, but he’d protect himself at all costs.

As James and Nestor stepped into the ring, there was immediately a problem. His power was useless here. Nothing more than desks and chairs were in the room, all of which out of his reach, and it wasn't like his opponent could launch any surprise attacks on him that he couldn't see with his eyes.

As the roaches and mice neared him, he decided it would be best to stay on his toes and play defense. James was a big guy, but he couldn't fight for the life of him. He put himself into a defensive pose, then looked back up and noticed that he was mirroring his opponent. That was awkward, but if anything, Nestor had the upper hand--

No, stop thinking like that! C'mon man, stay on your toes, there's no way I'm gonna throw the first punch here.

"Well, off the bat my assumption is either that you hack as a hobby, and your fairly good at it."

Raisa watched as he pulled a Zippo from his pocket. Fire then, she knew.

Crap.

Of all the people, the person who liked to play with fire.

Or you're a techno-path, and thus have little to use currently for combat means. Regardless, I would prefer it if you would refrain from threatening my games." The Zippo clacked open and a small orange flame emitted from it. "However I'm willing to hear out your proposition, but keep in mind that you currently don't know what I can do..."

She shrugged. "Well, I think I know now. You deal with fire, right?" She sighed. "I guess technopath is the word, I think. So you can understand why being forced into a ring with the guy that likes fire too much might not be in my best interest." She put her hands up in defense. "So, let's make a deal. I won't touch your game system, we have to live together after this after all, and you don't burn me." She grinned. "The teacher never did mention how exactly we were supposed to fight."

She pointed at the game system. "What games to you have? Any ones where we can go against each other... I can integrate with the system actually... or, well. " She paused, pointing at her bag. "I can just pull out my 3DS and we can play. Game of wits so to speak. You in?"

Nestor hesitated.

Great. What am I supposed to do now? Punch him? Like that'd do any good...

How was supposed to defeat this guy? He was way too big to attack head on. Perhaps fake an attack, then hit? Try and make him lose his balance? All this swirled through his head, as a fly buzzed near his ear, making him lose his concentration. Damn it. These things always- Nestor thought, when something clicked. He dropped the stance, closed his eyes, and flew the bug like a little RC airplane towards his opponent, at the fastest speed it could manage.

Seeing her partner—Thomas Lang, she reminded herself, her roommate, she should at least try to remember the name—walk slowly toward a ring, Priscilla followed. When Thomas reached the far end of the ring, he turned and then his body in what Priscilla thought was a rather silly stance. His attempt at a fighting stance, she presumed … not that she had any idea what the proper stance should look like. But it heartened her to think at least her partner at least seemed to be about as incompetent as she was. (Then she realised just how low her standards had sunk.)

But she still had no idea what sort of power this one would display, whether she would even be able to do anything, and it struck her once again just how ridiculous this scenario was. The fourteen of them, newly arrrived, sparring. It didn’t seem like most of the others had any more idea of what they were doing, either. All part of training, though, she supposed, so there wasn’t much to do about it besides putting in effort. (Well, there probably was. She just didn’t know what else.)

So as she entered the ring, Priscilla opened her umbrella, spreading it as far as it would go—it was supposed to be a nine-foot umbrella, certainly not wide enough to use even as an improvised parachute for a normal person, but that didn’t mean much, did it—and she started looking for energy sources; body heat should definitely work, but the instructor had said no lethality, so she’d have to be careful with that … although there was also an interesting anomaly over in the direction of the hamster boy—Gundam Tanaka, that was the name, wasn’t it?—and the girl whose car she’d wrecked. A patch of what looked visually like empty air, but devoid of air and filled with heat? Roughly the temperature of … well, hard to tell what exactly, but either some sort of endotherm or just something warm with four legs, and was that an invisible miniature elephant?

But it didn’t matter to her all that much just then what was there, because it was clearly a quite sizable heat reservoir, it probably wouldn’t even notice if she drained some heat from it, and she could use that, she would have that exchange heat with the air, and have some convection currents starting here, and that would lift here in the air, like … no. That didn’t seem right, it shouldn’t have become that strong that fast, and moreover, it shouldn’t be coming from behind her.

She turned, because something was clearly wrong, there was something strange, something anomalous, something that shouldn’t have been possible behind her, and what she saw there was another void, spherical here, but what she felt there was clearly wrong, and what she said was "*What is that thing supposed to be, that doesn’t even make sense!*"

And she was definitely being pulled toward it, and she looked back, in the direction of … Thomas Lang, was it, and she saw that expression, and she became absolutely convinced that this, this abomination, was definitely his fault. She looked again at the abomination, but now … no. Now it would not continue sucking in the air, she wouldn’t let it, the abomination, and if that was creating—was that supercritical fluid forming, what the hell was going on here—well, she shouldn’t suffer the abomination to live.

Observing his roommate carefully as she entered the ring, it could be said that Vidal didn't think much of her. He harbored a lingering hope about her powers. Thinking that, perhaps, she might be hiding more than her innocuous appearance would indicate. Where he had been hoping to find another monster for closure however- what he got instead were sparks. Electricity? She immediately cried foul. She couldn't use her powers as long as he was wearing rubber, right... or a rubber-like compound, anyway. But did it not occur to her that he was similarly limited by it as well? His suit stayed secured to his body by a series of intricate interlocking straps. With slow, stiff movements, he began to undo the first of them.

And she wasn't even looking in his direction. Did she seriously just take her eyes off him?

The first thing to go were his gloves. He needed his hands free to take the rest of the straps off, ideally, and thus he allowed them to drop to the ground. His arms now bare from the elbow downwards. Sickly pale skin, with green veins, yes, green instead of blue deoxygenated blood, showing through it. With the seal on his suit now effectively broken, the air around his arms started to discolour as his vile breath began to seep out, contaminated by toxic fumes as he reached for his neck. The mask was going to come off next.

Kssssssssh... Koooooo- HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

He placed it on the floor by the gloves. Bloodshot brown eyes fixing their gaze upon Aimee, his nostrils flaring as they inhaled the air freely, no longer inhibited by the mask, and breathed it out again, pumped full of virulent poison, which was forming a cloud around the immediate vicinity of his body. No eyebrows, no facial hair, no hair of any description- his head resembled a hardboiled egg. Though eggs seldom had mouths lined with yellowed teeth, or eyes that stared so fiercely. At least the rasping was gone. Although that only left the main body of his suit to go- which his hands scrabbled to remove. Unlock. Pull. Click. Click. Click. Pull. Around his shoulders, the baggy rubber began to sag, falling down until it lay around his ankles, like a shed second skin. Without the suit his clothing was plain and simple. A green hospital gown made of an alkaline fabric that seemed to be decomposing as he wore it.

"My suit is gone now." His voice rang out clearer now. Without the need to compensate for the muffling of the mask, it was louder. "You can hurt me... I will demonstrate."

Lifting up his left arm, he looked at the underside, where the veins around his wrist were pulsing. Opening his jaws, he slowly closed his mouth around his own flesh and bit down... he bit down hard, screwing his eyes at the pain, yellow ichor oozing out around his jaws and running down his arm. Letting go, he pulled away with a mouth stained with his own blood, the fluid leaking down and collecting in the palm of his hand, which he held cupped to catch as much of it as he could.

Turning his stare upward, towards the low ceiling, his eyes sought out the light. Fixing his gaze on the nearest bulb- the nearest source of illumination.

He flung his arm up, and hurled his own corrosive blood in the general direction of the fixture. Most of what he threw did not have the momentum to reach. It scattered, falling to the ground and impacting the floor, where it melted through the ring with a succession of small acidic hisses, leaving tiny holes dotted here and there. But a few drops, or just one, one was all it would take, must have made it. Because a moment later? The light fizzled and blinked out. Darkness. The ring he and his roommate now stood in was all but swallowed up by it, with only the distant lights of the other sparring areas providing any source of faint light. Just enough for two shadowy figures to be visible as outlines. Barely.

One of them was walking away from the other. His bare feet leaving footprints in the floor as they burned themselves into whatever they touched. Wordlessly, Vidal left the ring. He began walking around the outside of it, where the shadows could hide him. They were to fight until told otherwise. Not until one person left the ring or not, as far as he knew.

~Reneé

"Well, you know half of the coin, and for now I suppose there's little need to show the other side." Reneé replied. "That deals seems sound, if not a tad basic."

Reneé sighed. It was clear Raisa had no intentions of fighting, and had fair reason to, what could she possibly do against him, perhaps re-purpose his game system and a few cell phones to make a weapon, but little beyond that he assumed. The Zippo clacked shut, the weak flame being put out in a puff.

"And just because he didn't say exactly how to fight, doesn't mean it was open to interpretation. It was made rather obvious that he wanted see us demonstrate our abilities in a combat situation. Heh, but a game of wits seems interesting, especially when it promises at least something to do on 'off hours'."

Reneé shifted his weight to a more relaxed state, even if she were to pull something rather underhanded, there was one thing video games had helped him with, and that was an exceptional reflex speed. And it needn't be flames to that point too.

"But as it's your idea, I suggest you propose it to Professor Moriarty. I'm not willing to catch flak for the idea." Reneé stated with an expression of slight bemusement.

For a fraction of a second, James could feel something coming towards him, but he couldn't see it... it must have been tiny.

Oh wait, it was a fly. He had to drop his stance and shake his head in an attempt to shoo it. In the process, his cap started to fall off and he raised his left hand to keep it on. Before he could do anything else, however, something caught his eye.

He raised his palm, signaling Nestor to hold off. "Wait a minute." Walking to the marked edge of the ring, he peered towards the part of the room in darkness. There was a human silhouette - that was Vidal - and sensed something lying in the ring... a hazmat suit? Wha't something like that--

Oh god.

Priscilla entered the ring, and the words “no lethality” echoed through Thomas’ mind, and for a split second he worried the gravitation point might cause harm. It was big, but probably wouldn’t cause enough force to kill her. He hoped. (All he could remember from experience with his gravitation points was that they were mostly harmless so long as he didn’t create them inside a person. He couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if he did.)

As she entered, Priscilla opened the large umbrella she carried. She had ditched the textbook (which puzzled Thomas as it would have made an excellent weapon) in favor of increased mobility. She had a strange expression on her face, which made her hard to read, but Thomas could sense some sort of confidence. What he saw more was intense thought as she scanned around the room, looking for something he couldn’t see. And then she spotted it, and whatever it was apparently exuding from another ring.

Thomas needed to act, and he took the opportunity to open the field. He closed his eyes, visualizing the 3D space of the ring. A few feet behind Priscilla, level with her center of gravity, was where he chose to place the gravitation point. There was a small tear in his mind-mapping of the area, and air began to rush toward the point. Had there been any small stones in the area, they would have begun orbiting midair. He opened his eyes, and the look on Priscilla’s face told him he had her. She was being pulled toward the invisible point, and her face was painted with colors of concern, fear, but mostly disgust. That tipped him off to what had changed. She seemed disgusted. She seemed like there was an abomination behind her, something so ugly and so putrid that she couldn’t help but turn. And as she saw she cried, “What is that thing supposed to be, that doesn’t even make sense!” He felt insulted. Thomas had long since accepted the fact. His masterpieces didn’t fit into her little laws. They didn’t obey normal rules. But what Priscilla apparently saw as horrid, Thomas saw as his magnum opus.

It may have been the deeply melancholy piano rumbling in his ears that changed his mood, but Thomas felt an intense rage he had never felt before. His work was perfect. Perfect. Simply because laws did not exist to explain the beauty that was his work, this girl- no, this child- did not understand and she wanted it gone. What had taken Thomas three years to even get close to perfection was cast aside because it didn’t make sense. The child had no semblance of patience in her. Wasn’t that all that science was, the constant reworking of theories? Surely if she waited, some new scientist with a complicated name would make the discovery of a lifetime, a deep-space mystery solved by the collaboration of hundreds, and laws would be created. The axiom, the root, would remain the same, but then his work would be accepted. But this girl did not possess the patience, it seemed- and that was enough to enrage Thomas.

Thomas’ look darkened as he quickly calculated the trajectory he would need to take. He then moved to the side quickly in an arc that matched his point and then jumped towards the point and Priscilla. He hoped the added acceleration of the gravitational pull would cause enough force to knock her out of the ring when they collided. He just hoped it wouldn’t fling him backwards on the return, like a planet caught in an unfortunate orbit.

((Goddammit I hate working late-night))

Priam was satisfied that his trick to divert Serena's attention with his initial strike, but her retaliation actually surprised him. In all of his life, he'd never seen someone respond to an attack by throwing their shoe at their attacker. She's a strange one, to be sure Priam thought, angling his head to avoid the rogue footwear, but if this is the best she can think of, this is going to end soo- At this thought, there was a sharp pain in his ankle. As it happened, Priam had been so surprised by the shoe attack that he hadn't noticed her kicking at his leg.

Okay... she's more clever than I first suspected, he thought, unsteadily jumping back. Though she fell for my initial diverting trick before, so it's my own fault for not realizing my own trick was being used against me. That being said, the fact that this girl hadn't yet demonstrated her powers was a point of... concern? No, perhaps interest. Maybe her powers were similar to Priam's, and thus she'd been attacking in those unusual- No. That's overthinking it. No way of knowing what her powers are until she demonstrates them. This fight's barely started. Probably best to stay the course for now...

Trying to steady himself, Priam was about to jump back when a sudden hissing noise caught his attention. The noise was coming from the general direction of where the fellow in the suit was sparring. Priam looked over there just in time to see that the one in the suit had discarded the protective clothing, right before the light over the ring fizzled and went out. Priam was so surprised by this sudden turn of events - which seemed to confirm his suspicions that the suit was protecting others from its wearer - that by the time he remembered that he was vulnerable for whatever attack Serena had planned next, it was too late.

The hamsters were gone.

Shapeshifting was nothing new to Katie--her sister had been able to do it, albeit limitedly, and there were certainly biological precedents--but nothing like this. Where four hamsters had been before, there was now a stunning array of animals: a silver falcon, perched on Gundam's shoulder, an armored red elephant--shit was that a dragon--and charging at her, Sun-D, the grey fox, looking like it was about to--

As Katie assumed a defensive stance, her vision went completely black. Blinking frantically, unable to see, she felt the fox land on her head and cling there. She needed to phase, there was no way she was doing anything like this, she should've thought quicker to keep Sun-D away from her (but how? Not like she could just pick him up and throw him mentally) and now she could feel the other two, Maga-G and Cham-P readying an attack. get the body to the corner she thought, letting the force of the fox's landing push her further from her opponent. She felt the edge of the ring, fell to a knee, released--

Clarity. She could feel everything in the room, she could feel the fear of the probability girl (probability-based powers, that was truly interesting how did those work) and the caution of her opponent, the leech, Priam, the gravity switch, that was new, and oh, the threat from Raisa thinly veiling the fear she had of performing not-to-standard--Katie's consciousness rose up rapidly, phasing through Sun-D (should at least disrupt the illusory darkness for a second or so, possibly send the God of Destruction into the air but it didn't matter now) and becoming as visible as she could. A shining silvery-white woman, radiating energy (really just low-level mental probes but they might be tangible, hopefully) and voicing loudly, "How foolish of you to have awoken me from my mortal slumber. Now you shall fully incur my fury! Have at you!"

She sped through Gundam's chest, feeling a sensation that would have made a "phhunp" noise, if it had been audible, then wheeling upwards to shine again above him. She opened her ethereal mouth to boast again (really a formality at this point, the voice just sort of emanated from her) when suddenly--over there--blackness--the sound of a suit being dropped, deadly apathy from Vidal and strong panic from those who had figured it out--

Jesus Christ NO

"But as it's your idea, I suggest you propose it to Professor Moriarty. I'm not willing to catch flak for the idea."

She smiled, happy he was at least smart enough to see sense. "See this is good, we're talking, working things out. No burning things or anything, I like this." She kept smiling. Raisa had a feeling she was going to like this guy.

"Right, Moriarty. I'll-" She stopped, noticing that the corner of the room where the gas mask kid had been, it was dark.

Raisa heard the sound of bare feet on the ground.

She glanced at Reneé, catching his eye. She felt a little of the color drain from her cheeks as she realized that the gas mask kid had taken off his suit. So it wasn't a matter of the kid's safety that he wore it, if he could so easily take it off. "You seeing this?" she said to Reneé beside her. There was a heavy smell coming from that direction, some sort of odd mix of vinegar, sulfur, and something burning.

It was for their protection, not his.

"Shit," was all she could say.

~Reneé

As Raisa was about to draw the professor attention, she froze. She quickly had glanced in Reneé's direction and Reneé looked to see what had caught her attention. The ring where hazmat boy, Vidal, had been in was encompassed in only very low light, but the lump on the ground indicating that he had removed his suit made Reneé understand not only Raisa's reaction, but several other classmates as well.

"I don't suppose he's emitting flammable fumes, eh?" Reneé remarked as he held his lighter in a ready manner. He hadn't noticed it before but there was a slight change of scent in the air. "I think it'd be too dangerous for me to use fire..." Reneé gritted his teeth, it was clear the situation had fallen to something no-one had desired, Vidal, the walking bio-hazard, had removed the only thing protecting everyone around him from him.

"I suppose I could do that but I have too little experience doing it, and none in trying to focus it on someone. Shit..." Reneé thought, ticking his thumbnail lightly on the casing of the lighter. "I really can't afford to burn out souls if it won't constitute a beneficial result, and its guaranteed everyone else would feel the effects too, and likely more intensely due to their proximity. Bluh, and now I'm going big complicated words again. Stupid, bloody, dangerous situation."

"I don't suppose he's emitting flammable fumes, eh?"

Raisa shook her head. "No idea. Do you think it's too late to transfer?"

She turned to Moriarty. "UH, MR. TEACHER GUY, I THINK VIDAL BROKE YOUR RING!"

There was some sort of commotion that drew Nick's attention. Was that... Oh boy. The kid in the suit. He wasn't in the suit. The smells he was starting to smell were probably from him. Nick briefly pondered whether or not he should allow his focus to shift from Eris. But in the long run, this was probably a bigger issue.


Well. That went about exactly how Moriarty wanted it to not go. Vidal, in all his brilliance, had removed the damn suit. Moriarty walked briskly to the stairs. He reached under one of the lower ones and produced a small mask, and stuck it on his face. Raisa warned him that Vidal "broke his ring." This only prompted a scoff from him. "Like hell he did."

He walked at a quickening pace towards Vidal, and as he entered the darkened area, there was a flash of steel in his hand. He stopped just over five feet from Vidal, lifting the pistol. There was an eerily loud click as he pulled the hammer back. "I didn't expect this sort of childishness from any of you." Moriarty's voice was slightly muffled through his mask. "And Vidal, you of all people should understand how your actions have repercussions.

"Now, I'm going to give you a chance to put your suit on. Alternatively, you can try and take me, or try to fight Aimee. Then I can see what acts faster between your acids, and my bullet. Honestly, I'm betting on the Hollow Point." There wasn't a sound at that moment. Total silence to accompany the darkness Vidal had put them in. "Aimee. I suggest getting off the ring. In the opposite direction. But don't leave the room." He ordered. "So, Mr. Biryukov, do I spread your brains on the floor, or do you put the damned suit back on?"

He is really going to take the suit off... Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into?

Aimee watched wordlessly as the parts of the suit fell to the ground, revealing what he really looked like. He was pale and hairless, almost like a bleached zombie. Her eyes were wide with fear, she wanted to back away but was stuck to the spot.

She discovered he was not afraid to hurt himself. He extended his arm and looked at it for a moment before biting down on it and tearing the skin. She cried out at this, shielding her face as he flung his yellow blood up and blew out the light. Aimee heard the hissing sound, then the sounds of bare feet, she could hear him circling around and barely see the outline of him. Backing away slowly, she tried to watch him circling, too scared to use her powers.

Aimee had to cover her mouth now, the stench was causing her to cough, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Some of the other students attention was drawn over, and the teacher definitely was attracted. He approached with a mask on his face and in his hand was a gun. She made a small sound in fear and heard him say something about getting out of the ring.

She didn't hesitate at all, she nearly ran into the lighted area by another ring, watching what was happening and shaking, her thoughts a mess.

Oh God, oh God, why did I do something like that, oh God...

Even distracted as she was (by the abomination), Priscilla didn’t quite fail to notice when Thomas jumped. What she failed to do was to react. And when she saw the path Thomas had taken, she panicked, as he clearly intended to shove her into his abomination; and while she didn’t know what that would do, it presuambly wouldn’t be good for her, they were still sparring, after all, and that abomination was still horrendously wrong.

So there were two things she could do, and she did both: first, she turned the umbrella to face the abomination—she didn’t know if that would help very much, but it was worth a try; and second, she willed the fluid which had formed around the abomination to freeze, to solidify, to harden, to form a surface which would deflect her from the abomination; the fluid itself, that was gas enough for her to reshape, but then to freeze it? The heat would have to go somewhere, where could it go, the air around?—that wouldn’t work, she’d be passing through, she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to do the freezing, she wasn’t going to risk passing through scalding air; no, there was only convenient place for it to go, and that was into the abomination … and it was remarkably receptive, so wrong but she’d have to experiment with this thing, maybe later, would Thomas let her—

Then Thomas collided with her (very inelastically!), and then both with the umbrella (very inelastically!), then a sudden acceleration not unlike crashing into a wall—well, then, didn’t think I’d pulled it off—but it was still excruciating, she really wasn’t equipped for this—and an umbrella and a small girl and a large boy tumbled onto the floor (very inelastically!—that hurt, too) just outside the ring and … well, it wouldn’t be right to say behind, but on the other side of the abomination, but it was still there being wrong, and probably a bit bigger now?—she’d thought it was a bit shy of half a meter before, but now it seems a bit more, but it wasn’t exactly easy to tell, in any case—but now she was wondering less how to get rid of it than what use could be made of it, it had been an unsettling sensation, almost as if the heat were being consumed, but such a powerful one all the same.

She’d recovered from the fall before Thomas, it seemed (or maybe he just didn’t want to move, she could understand, the collisions had been painful, although she would have thought they would have hurt more for her than for him), and her first response was to sit up, pick up her umbrella, and prod him with the crook, demanding "What do you think you’re doing, young man?" Then, realising how absurd she must have seemed, more quietly: "Would you mind if I experimented with your, uh, that thing?" After a moment, "Not now, necessarily, but at some point?"

And then a loud click, and she turned, and she realised that while she’d been distracted by the abomination, the … the one in the suit with a biohazard symbol on it, that one, that one was no longer in the same place as the suit—took it off, she presumed—and now the professor was advancing into the darkness in that direction (hadn’t it been lit before?) and was that a gun, what had happened?

Then she realised that the air over there smelled very wrong—well, it wasn’t quite a smell, it was probably just a secondary power, like her sense for heat and for gas presence, that wouldn’t make much less sense than the powers she already knew about, definitely more sense than that abomination, so distasteful—she wasn’t sure what it was, but it definitely wasn’t atmospheric, it definitely wasn’t something one might expect in a room of humans (reasonably human, at least).

Then, at Thomas again, "Um, did you say something? I was distracted, I think something’s wrong."