The Twentieth Annual Winter Formal

When she was eight, Liberi made everyone learn how to square dance for the upcoming heritage week. This was another different skill set entirely. Not that she was being rude, but she could barely look straight at Jon as she sashayed from side to side, laughing at her own incompetence, and taking extra care not to accidentally taser anybody with an accidental step or flying elbow.

She perked up at the brush of plastic against her arm, watching with heightened acuteness as he smoothly swiped the cupcakes from the pastry table and into the bag. "Nice!" she hissed, the grin cracking across her facec.

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Just when it felt like she was getting worked up, when she was basking in the spotlight, their set was over. Esther unplugged and unslung her bass from around her shoulders and leaned back against the wall, listening intently through the list of names.

A smirk sprang to her face. Surprise, surprise. Elia Wright. She applauded good-naturedly as her sister approached the stage, but with an expression like she'd just bit into a lemon, peel land all.

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The title or the tiara didn't mean much to him, and when he heard Elia's name called, he lifted his mock-champagne in another mock-toast. Of course, he'd stuffed the boxes. The searching spotlights swept over the crowd, singling out each of the five royals, with Evander standing at the edge of her light. And then he was standing there alone as she.

"Congratulations," he called out as she slipped through the parting mass of people, but he wasn't even sure his date heard her as she made her way up to the platform. He eyed the prince from the ground, swilling the cider around in his glass, expression flattening out.

Oh, she was definitely pretty. Shepard offered her a smile. "I could say the same to you, Eliza." He gave a mock bow, then lead her to the empty dance floor, cleared for the winners of the dance. "I'm going, to be honest," Shepard began in a quiet voice. "I don't dance very well. Go easy on me." Though, as he said that, Shepard took the lead with their dance to the soft music, barely noticing the gentle flakes falling closer to the ground.

Amira looked at the girl fully now, cheeks reddening as she realized how silly she probably looked. The girl, upon further inspection, was quite pretty and the young Spring couldn't help stumbling over her words as she tried to explain herself. She wasn't just staring at a cookie, she swore! "Oh! Uh - yeah! I just wasn't sure... well I was wondering... if they were vegan by chance? Probably not, I should just go get some... fruit. Or something." She gently placed the cookie down, then began pulling at the end of one of her loose curls nervously.

-

Dublin was watching his daughter, clearly beaming with pride. He barely heard the boy's reply, soft as it was, nor his sharp breathe. It was Eliza's name that pulled his attention back, and he smiled casually as he looked over at the boy, not yet noticing his clear panic. "Yeah, you know her?" Then he noticed the boy's face, and it didn't him long to come to the obvious conclusion. For what was probably a very scary moment for the boy, stared at him blankly. Then he laughed, loud and hard, before he realized people were staring over at them curiously. "I should've known. Well, you seem like a nice enough guy. I wish you luck, she's a bit of a tough one. And she has her old dad's charms on top of it." He grinned.

"Say, I never got your name?"

-

Eliza was practically beaming, feeling a spotlight on her every move. She was living under it. She let Shepard take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor. Once they stopped, she pulled him close - placing her hand on his shoulder and leaning up against him as they swayed. "I don't know, you seem to be holding your own perfectly fine." She seemed to move to the music especially well, and though she wasn't leading, she followed his step so fluidly it was as they were moving as one. The Autumn noticed idly that she was nearly his height - actually, with the addition of heels, they stood eye to eye. She tilted her head as she examined his face. "I haven't seen you around before, Shepard. And I feel like a Queen should know her King. Don't you think?" Granted, she was still quite new there, and hadn't gotten around to meeting everyone. (Though she had made it her mission to.)

Its lab name was was Svefnthorn-1. The Guardians who knew about it called it Cupid. You could either administer the dose as a liquid, slipping it inside a target's food or drink, or aerosolize it into a gas and pump it through the vents. Tonight, they took no chances and did both. Colorless, odorless; by the time you felt the effects, it was already too late. There was the runny nose, a tingling in your spine, a little drooling, a tightness in the chest. Pupils constrict, uncontrollable giggle fits give way to euphoria, bliss, a wave of endorphins crash over the target and sends them melting to the floor, the tightness in their chest growing sharper.

As the royal couples finished their first dance, the Grand Hall echoed with choking laughter.

A dark-clad stranger weaved through the jostling crowds, onto the dance floor, in a long jacket and tactical boots rather than a gown or suit. A long white mask perched on their face, an inhuman snout capped with a respirator, staring out through reflective black lenses. The stranger plucked the ruby brooch from off of Keir Lupo with catlike dexterity, seizing Eliza Andrews with the other gloved hand.

The stranger said nothing, producing a taser from their long jacket as they edged back with the Formal Queen. All around them, students jerked, convulsed, collapsed, breathless faces turning from red to blue. Cupid didn't just induce euphoria and remove control of the muscles, but it acted as a gift suppressant as well. As a target neared unconsciousness and lost control of their movements, they lost control of their gift, expressing it in weak spasms. There was the shower of sparks and embers, rushing water, shattered punch bowls, broken tables, or students clutched with grotesque convulsions, fluctuating between animal and human.

Right now, some in the crowd could still stagger around like drunks on their own two feet. Others were already curling to the floor, wilting like little tulips. The masked stranger was halfway toward the doors now with the Queen in their arms, but they weren't alone. Other dark-clad figures seemed to materialize from the crowd, and another was ascending the stage, up to Rosemary's microphone. all about that dramatic effect ya'll; is srs.

The moment they had caught them self suddenly giggling as they hide in the corner, staring at their crown, they had a feeling something was wrong. A hand flew up to their mouth as they lean back, supporting themselves on a wall as they tried to surpress the laughing that was escaping them...But not just them, from everybody. Their eyes flickered up as the sound of laughing started to become almost as overwhelming as the act itself, a few people already falling to the ground in their fit as chaos started to break lose. Their hand flew back to their crown, holding to it even tighter as they pushed off of the wall into a stumble - only to catch themself as they suddenly felt everything move slower for a few seconds before they fell to their knees, taken by surprise by the sudden fast movement.

That...That was their gift, they hadn't meant to use it. Why had they...? Their eyes flickered up, tears started to run down their face as their lungs hurt from laughing. They had to...They had to get out of here. There was something going on - dark cloaked figures standing among the collapsing students - unphased by whatever was happening as one - or two? It was hard to tell - were heading for the main door. Sam's head flickered up as they gritted their teeth, throwing their weight to the side as they felt another spasm run down their body, their gift suddenly activating again as they used the momentum to make some good distance toward one of the side doors.

They laid there for a few seconds, clunching their crown to their chest as they tried to take in breaths despite still giggling before they rolled to their feet - using the random activation of their gift to make distance but dimly, as their lungs hurt even more, realized that they were covering less ground as their gift seem to start to sputter out.

Finally, they stumbled their way through a side-door as they finally stumbled to the ground, their should painfully slamming against the wall. Other than for their pained, gasping laughs, the only other sound was their crown clattered to the ground as they slide down the wall. As they laid on the floor, their arms wrapped around their chest as they silently begged for the laughing fit to end, they curled up around their crown in a protective stance - unwilling to lose the one thing that was a symbol of true progress being made for their rights here in Beata.

Cailin felt, oh, she didn't know, dizzy? Her smile stretched the edges of her cheeks, and in a sweeping moment of levity, she thought to herself that this was exactly the kind of Formal she'd always dreamed about. Even with cupcake on her dress or without a real date, this moment, here, dancing a foot apart, was the only one that really mattered. Maybe it was just the thrill of breaking the rules, but she broke into a snort of laughter, sparks cracking around her head, flowing down the length of her arm, leaping from the tips of her fingernails with a crack, snap, hiss. Breathless, massaging her throat, blue pinpricks of light flared up at the tips of her hair, unable to hold back the bursts of electricity from her skin, or a second to catch her breath. "Hey, Jon, I'm..." Gosh, what was so funny? The burnt ends crisped and curled as the light traveled upward along individual strands of hair, like long auburn wicks.

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Evander was still rubbing where the Formal Princess had pecked him on the cheek when he noticed the change in the room. Tittering laughter rose up from the crowds, first in scattered bursts and fits, and then together, until it engulfed the entire room. He cracked a smile, despite himself, and then he was laughing with them, despite the drumming in his chest. There was an overwhelming, primal adrenaline, pain wracking down his spine as his limbs began to jerk and spasm, knock-kneed, the burning wrench of his bones rearranging, first in his shoulders, moving up to his neck, the teeth lengthening in his skull all at once, filling his mouth with the taste of blood. His low, breathless laughter lengthened and tinnied into a whine, and then a howl as he staggered forward, clawing blindly through.

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Esther wheeled and swayed. Her bass felt like it was built out of solid steel, and it went crashing to the floor with a loud twang as madness convulsed the crowd below. She fell against Inigo's drumset, tugging at the hem of Chris' shirt as all oxygen seemed to evaporate. Through her dimming vision, she saw the silhouette of a stranger step up to the microphone.

“Well, sad to see my vote for Keir didn't get him closer to being this year's princess.” Theodore huffed, watching the stage with keen, yellow eyes. Such a mundane yearly tradition that so many people looked forward to. It was quite nice. He turned to Mary-Jane with a smile, waving his drink. “There's definitely something in this pu-”

The opening of the door cut him off, followed by seconds of confusion and chaos. The Summer tried hard to keep his senses in place, but finding it unusually hard to. Something had gone terribly wrong - he spotted the Formal Queen held back by a stranger, dragged away, noticed his mask and shivered. Reminders of the opening ceremony flashed before his eyes, first as memories and then almost obstructing his vision. “Cover your face!” the Lupo called out weakly as his mind clicked into place, his words turning halfway into a strangled, alarmed howl. His face felt hot, his skin prickly as he fell onto his palms and knees, shaking. Barks and whines escaped him, his form shifting indecisively between human and animal, painfully so.

Another attack. They get us when we’re bunched together. Smart.

Fangs too large and beast-like for his still human face made it hard to speak, but he rasped something at his date, managing to roll under the table they had stopped at, feeling the continuing ripples of pain through his body. He tried to angle his head up, to keep his mouth open and to allow himself to breathe properly - the smell of fear filled his lungs, the sound of laughing his ears. Student's laughing. He joined in breathlessly, unknowingly. As if this all was a big prank.

---

Chatting with the dashing and mildly stuck-up teenager had proven not to get him far. Jessé decided to focus his attention on the ceremony instead, even if he did not care much for whoever won or lost. Good for them, anyway. He didn’t know they had a category for ‘Formal Creepy Costumed Man’, though. It took him a couple of seconds to figure out they didn’t. What this guy was about, he couldn’t tell - but could it really be anything good? This was by far the most exciting social gathering he had ever been to, for all the wrong reasons.

There were yells and then his mind began focusing again on the moment, bringing him back to reality. The Autumn felt unusual, alternating between a crushing feeling that dragged his entire body down, and an inexplicable burst of energy, even for himself. Hands shaking, he spilled his drink on the floor, but his eyes were still glued to the Queen, watching her and the man. Perhaps his mind was not in the right place, perhaps it was that his legs felt like they would splinter if he didn’t move, but Jessé began sprinting for the door, hopping over fallen, fellow students, skidding and stumbling as the drug continued to kick in, stronger and stronger each time, panting in-between the infectious laughter that spread through out the crowd.

He had made it almost close enough, granted, before his limbs numbed and he barely had time to cover his face with his arms before he hit the floor ungracefully, spasming wildly. “Arrête!” the Autumn ordered, helplessly, face turning red as he struggled to breathe, laugh and think at the same time, reverting back to his mother-tongue.

---

The music was pleasant, the company was pleasant. Worthy of a princess, she dared hope. Keir was not a bad dance partner, on the contrary, they made quite the duo. And everything made her very happy, even if she wished she could have been the Formal Princess - to receive a crown herself. Another crown, to be more precise. But it all seemed to fall apart rather fast, with the appearance of the unknown masked figure. "Is that something that happens...?" Jinju asked, flinching as the figure grabbed the Formal Queen, dragging her away.

A girl she had spoken with. The Autumn tracked them with her eyes before staring back to Keir, gaze filled with alarm, and she squeezed his hand tightly, fear evident. Something strange was building up inside of her, as all the other students began to drop. Crystals began forming in her palm, snaking up both her arm and onto her dance partner, some large, some imperceptible. The thin line of crystal on her neck was growing out, expanding and retracting with no input or purpose, simply to torment and wound her. For the first time, Jinju felt powerless, and it was almost humiliating, on top of the pain.

She wanted to go home. Struggling to move her feet, she managed to break apart from the other, mouthing apologies that didn't quite make it out to him, replaced by an erratic giggling that came out broken from her vocal chords.

---

And so, his little friend left. Anatheus almost felt compelled to follow him, but then again, he seemed like such an awfully complicated puzzle for this time of night. Maybe some other day. Throughout the ceremony he allowed his mind to tune out the unimportant buzz of excitement and applause, staring down different students one by one and taking no particular interest in any of them. It was all so ordinary.

Until it wasn't anymore. What was happening came to him fast, in the form of the masked man dragging some girl away, and the second one who had taken the stage. Far more interesting than any song that band had played so far. His body was morphing slightly, then more and more drastically, strands of control slowly being broken away, but his mind was focused on the speaker, the pivotal point of this performance. What else could he call it? A display of power over a hundred or so teenagers - well, he could call it cowardice. And, according to sources, it hadn't been the first time happened.

Laughter made him uncomfortable, but he joined in with a giggle that broke into a proper laugh soon. Not to his own volition, of course - that had been the giggle.

He almost felt ashamed for not knowing it would happen earlier.

Danae-Alisse was laughing. Laughing as she hadn’t done in months. Joy, true joy seemed to bubble into and throughout her. As if the air around her was filled with mirth. Too much mirth for it seemed that everyone was laughing with inane ease. Collapsing on the floor as if in drunken stupors. She hadn’t had anything to drink. Even eat. So why am I laughing, her mind produced. It was that, sadly, that woke her up. She was excited, yes. Having a lovely night, true. But not a comedic one. And that, tragically, was what woke Danae-Alisse, the depressed teen who suspected the feeling of joy at any time of the day as a merely temporary apparition. Even with all the work she did to psych herself up for the dance she believed would only last the night. Apparently, it won’t even last that long.

Joy and depression tangled together in a violent brawl as she struggled to figure out what had happened. What she saw turned her mind first to despair, but drugged happiness was too energetic a thing to fall to depression. So what arose in its place was the only thing that could satisfy both. Unbridled sadistic rage. There wasn’t much of a connection, but her mind made it. These people wanted the crown. The people who her mission sent after wanted the crown. Her twisted mind drew the conclusion, despite lack of evidence though not lack of teenage logic, that they were one in the same. And now they had one of the people who she cared about. What's more, who cared about her in return. They, the masked monsters. Shadows creeping up from darkened and deranged nightmares. They wanted to hurt the closest things she had to family since she came to Beata. She’d never allow that again. Never again. Nightmares that would’ve warn her against such obsessive protection were drowned out under the euphoric rage that pumped through her mind and veins. But the covenant was made in her heart, and they would suffer for their transgressions.

Now, one of two things always happened when the redhead became too emotional. Either the water all around her would do absolutely nothing. Or it would do absolutely anything. She let out a long, horrendous shriek and all around her, liquids flew away. Punch, cider, the general moisture in the air and the particulates carried with it propelled themselves in a perfect, circular shockwave away from her. But, in the next instant, her hand shot out and grabbed. Not a person, or a cloth. Nor also a plate, cup, fork, or spoon. No, instead, her mind and power lead her to grab the snow and pull. And it came. A rumbling mound, waist high, billowed into the hall, rocketing towards the back of the man with the taser and her friend held hostage.


Durran wasn’t near so effected, despite having had both cider and breathed the air. Though humorously enough, he hadn’t had a sip of the punch. The stuff actually spiked with alcohol. Nor had he eaten anything at the party, despite finding it all pleasing to the eye and smell. He figured he would wait until the formal was most over and then simply take his fill. Now that was unlikely to happen as, finally, what he’d seen in the flames was coming true. Masked men appearing at the ball. He hadn’t seen anything beyond their appearance, chaos being caused, and him smashing one of them and chucking one of their masks across the room to a mutely screaming Danae-Alisse. All that was left was to follow through on the vision. After all, his position in the hall was far from accident. His only regret in his growingly drugged brain was that he was having such a lovely time with Anima.

The masked man who had materialized out of seeming thin air would have been quite surprised had he been conscious long enough to register the six and a half foot man suddenly twist and, with perfect precision, grab him. Flippin in midair, the man was slammed against the wall and then plunged, head first, against the floor with a solid crack. Without thinking to question it, Durran pealed the mask off.

“Danae-Alisse!” he shouted as he hucked it with the might of a third baseman’s bullet pitch and, with the ingrain reflexes of a shortstop, she spun towards what her addled brain saw as a threat, caught the throw from a friend. The brief training she had before her mission served her instincts well and she snapped the gasmask over her head. No more poison would reach her blood. Durran himself, turned to seek another victim to liberate a breathing apparatus from.

"That's party was a bust, no hot guys and the spiked punch was not even that good". Alexandria tossed a cup of the punch she took to go into a nearby trash can. " Why are you even drinking it in the first place you know that poisons don't affect us". Sliding an arm around her young cousin, " Don't act all standoffish now I saw you talking to that girl". Giving Ethelthryth a wink, " She was pretty cute, though what would your Mother say".

Shoving her cousin off, "I was just making conversation"! Ethelthryth's annoyance towards Alexandria only fueled her older cousin's playful nature more. However, both the Arachne's phones rang simultaneously temporarily halting Alexandria's playful assault on Ethelthryth's nerves. As they both answer the peaceful walk home changed into an update on the current situation. The two of them were giving an explanation as well as an exhaustive questioning about the formal. As they were told about neurotoxin know as Cupid, the duo shifted to see if the toxin had an effect on the both of them. Physically the two seemed unaffected, however, it would explain their current behaviour. Since they did not have any protection against further exposure to the toxin they were ordered to block off the exits with webbing and attempt the stall or subdue anyone relating to the attack. With their orders received they rushed back to the entrance to block it with a webbing and standing guard to await the arrival of the reinforcements. While the two Arachne wished they could do more, more exposure to the toxin could render them ineffectual.

While the two younger Arachne carried out their duty. On route to the academy was twenty members of the Arachne lead by Ambrose included most of the prime members within the clan besides Lillynette who was currently captaining the Arachnid Guard at the Deepwell Reformatory and Bradwin who was part of the Lupine Guard. Hopefully, Ethelthryth and Alexandria could act as an effective auxiliary force to prevent or stall the enemy long enough for the main force to arrive. However, it was possible that the enemy could escape before the two make it back and set up an effective defence.

---

Something wasn't right.

He'd almost had himself fooled, already grins, giggles, and butterflies by the time he'd felt the sharp clench in his chest. This wasn't natural. It didn't feel right, and reality came crashing down on him as he realized there was no stopping his grinning, no pauses to catch his breath, and panic was all-too quickly gripping hold of him. A few screams rang in his ear, echoing out through shrill bouts of laughter. It poured at him all at once; horror, confusion, disgust... Jon blinked the hot tears out of his eyes, dropping his loot onto the tile floor and grabbing for the girl's shoulder.

"Cailin, ge-get down-" He managed to choke out.

---

Elia felt lighter than a cloud, absolutely beaming and dancing on the tip of her toes; staring up at her handsome new prince and humming along to the music. She took in as much as she could, keeping her eyes glued up at Jackson and batting her lashes, for the most part anyways. Every now and then, she'd shoot Evander a small smile or look up at Esther on the stage and shooting her a more subtle, knowing smirk.

"You're a better dancer than you look," she teased the Prince lightly, grinning and glancing up towards the ceiling. And then Hell broke loose. She found herself pulling away from Jackson in sheer surprise, almost tumbling back, her heel getting snagged on the ends of her dress. An awful, crooked smile crept on her face, and she found herself slapping a hand to her face - muffling her laughter. Her nostrils stung and her face began to puff up and water.

Some kid was wreathing on the ground, the Lupo in the dress she saw, and she shot her head back towards Evander before letting out a gurgled scream.

---

She looked caught off guard, a deep blush creeping onto her face. "Vegan, right, right... That makes so much more sense!" Marion laughed awkwardly, slapping away lightly at her own cheek. "I don't have the menu or anything with me, but ... there's gotta be something here, I'll help you look." The blonde laughed again, a bit harder this time, seemingly out of nowhere. At herself maybe, and her own dumb conversation abilities?

Marion sniffed. "I... I - what?" She sniffed again, her eyes being dragged up to the stage as someone took up the mic, in a creepy mask she'd never seen before. A sudden, deep headache stabbed away at her table. What was going on?

---

It felt like God himself could have split the heavens then and there and smited him where he stood, and it still would have felt kinder than what he was going through then and there. He stared at the ground to escape the man's stares. He'd expected scorn, or shouting of any sort of kind, anything but laughing; straight up losing his shit at him. Roman's face turned red as a beet, gripping awkwardly at the sleeves of his shirt. "Yeah, yeah... Does she? That's - so - ahh -" He couldn't think of a good word. Cute? Father and Daughter, so cute...

He gasped, feeling the airways of his lungs seize up, heart pounding in his chest. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck.

His name, he couldn't say. Make something up! "Ah, Roman..." Shit.

Roman's eyes shot up, a few shrieks heard from the dance floor. A few dark shapes in blatant white masked weave their way through the crowd. Gifts broke out everywhere, people clutched at their necks, darkness and sparks swirled around several students, some poor guy wreathed on the floor - their shifting form tearing away at their clothes and shredding at the floor. It was sickening.

Through the chaos and his own seething laughter, he barely managed to stay on his feet, and yet he still found her in the crowd - a taller shape latching onto Eliza's arm and yanking her across the floor. For a split-second, he could only see white, staring at the ghastly mask above their Queen. He sprang away from the teacher, a sickly grin on his face as he threw his entire body weight at the masked stranger, arms out to take her to the ground.

---

---

Everything had been fine moments before. He was enjoying himself as he watched his daughter waltz around the ballroom floor, and what joy radiated off of her traveled directly to him. Joy could never last forever, though, and often the stronger it is, the stronger the suffering is to come. He just didn’t think it would arrive so suddenly.

Dublin had seen some terrible, horrible things in his life. We didn’t need to get into all of that, but through time in jail, the streets, rehab, through his brief stint as a guardian, he had never come across something as horrifying as watching your child get kidnapped in front of you while you stood there, completely helpless. Crumpled on the ground, trying desperately to crawl his way to her, summoning all of his power in his words as he yelled out orders to stop, let her go, leave, anything that may help, he felt a similar helpless ache that he’d felt the night he was there in the driver’s seat, looking over at his best friend draw her last breathe. And it was his fault.

He couldn’t do anything then, and he couldn’t do anything now.

-

If you had told Eliza a year ago that she’d be here, laughing it up as she floated around the ballroom, going on death defying missions to save crowns - or jewels, or whatever, she wouldn’t have believed you. She had always known that she was gifted, but she never entertained the thought of gifted beyond her family. She saw how having power could destroy your life, in her father’s case, or enhance it, in her case. Now here she was, surrounded by people wildly different from her, all so strange and unique in ways she couldn’t fathom. It touched her in a way she wouldn’t have expected when she was dropped off just months before.

Still, she was just a normal girl, wildly out of her depth, and - why was she laughing? She couldn’t think of anything funny, and yet she couldn’t stop a wicked smile from taking over her face, nor the bubbling of giggles from within her. It could be the alcohol, or her giddy mood, but she felt out of control of her body in a way that she wasn’t at all accustomed to. Around her, people began falling, convulsing, showy powers shooting off and going awry. It didn’t take much deducing to realize something was very wrong.

Suddenly, her legs gave out beneath her as she lost control. Bracing for a fall, she wasn’t expecting the hand that grabbed her roughly and yanked her away. Eliza let out some contorted sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. The girl looked up with wild eyes, and what she saw was straight out of her nightmares. All she could do was stare at the masked figure in terror - but as she regained some sense, she tried to pull away with what little force she could muster. ”Let me go.” She demanded, albeit weakly.

Then, what to her seemed like an avalanche coming out of nowhere, snow knocked her off of her already shaky feet, sending her to the ground like a dead weight. In the same instant, a boy - a vaguely familiar face (Rowan, Ramon? Something like that.) came charging at the figure holding her close. She’d have suggested he join Beata’s football team - if they had one, that is. And if this were the right time for that.

Laid out and dazed, laughing maniacally (probably not a good look on her) she assessed her damage. A heel was broken on one of her shoes, and at any other time, this would’ve been a tragedy in of itself. Now, she ripped it off, throwing it at the figure, just for good measure. Belatedly, she realized that during her fall, the Formal crown had fallen off and skidded a few feet away. It dawned on her why they might want her, not because she was important, not because they wanted to steal her spotlight, (which they were totally doing regardless. Rude.) but because of the crown she’d worked so hard to protect. With the last of her strength, the last of her coherence, she crawled across the floor, grabbing the crown and curling around as if it was everything to her.

In a way, it was.

Shepard was halfway through forming a response when he was struck by a violent bout of laughter. Though, this was not pleasant laughter. Instead, it was sharp, painful, and he was one of the first to drop to the ground in a fit of agony, though his laughter didn't quite carry that sentiment. His power seemed to be uncontrollable, heat shooting off of him in waves, before shutting off, his body trying to fight back.

Though the haze, Shepard spotted someone tackle a masked figure who had pulled Eliza away. Why were they here? Shepard struggled to turn his head towards his friends. Were they okay? A masked man strolled past him, barely casting him a glance. What made them attack? What was here that was worth so much risk? Last time it was his father, but-- Hazy blue eyes flickered towards his father who was too crippled by the gas, doubled over, though his face was hidden behind blond bangs.

They didn't seem intent on killing him this time. Or even pay him much attention. Though, the lady speaking, how could she be so calm, when children below her were convulsing in pain, or even passing out completely? Gritting his teeth through the huffs of laughter, Shepard tried to push himself onto his knees, only earning himself dark spots dancing in the corners of his vision.

---

Beecher, though his laughter, put himself between Scarlett and any masked figures near them, doing his utmost to make sure they were not approached. Blue eyes flickered towards Keir, his bother's brooch being ripped away caused a frown on his face. What is important about that dusty old thing? Aside from looking like an old lady, that is.

Using a table as support, Beecher bared his teeth at anyone who got close, though struggling to keep up his front through everything.

The stranger and the queen were almost to the doors when a shape lurched forward out of the crowd, knocking the two of them apart. Weight crashed down over on top of the masked figure as they squared their body, boots cheeping across the floor as they fought to stay upright, but Roman was able to force them to the ground, slumping over the stranger as Eliza and the crowd went spinning away.

A long thin rod extended out from the invader's gloved hand to prod Roman between the ribs, sharp electric currents coursing through the boy's body, as the other hand curled around his shirt collar. The blank mask pressed against his face, a thin and muffled voice straining through the thick respirator. "They finally let you in, Patterson?" she hissed. Yes, it was definitely a woman's voice. "Don't forget what you are and what you're not." She shoved the limp weight off her and rose to her feet, moving over to the fallen queen in three, four long strides.

The rod shrank back into the hidden device in her palm. Pocketing it, she exchanged it for a far simpler and (somehow) far more frightening tool—a rusty flathead screwdriver. She turned the girl over onto her back with a hard shove of her boot, folding her knee down on top of her in one fluid motion to keep Eliza pinned to the floor, crown still clutched in the queen's fingers. The woman in the mask seized Eliza's wrist to keep it steady, and chipped the screwdriver under the center jewel, cranking it like a lever.

With a high chink! just on the edge of hearing, the sapphire popped out from the diadem, bouncing out across the dance floor. She immediately released her grip on Eliza, jumping up to rush after it.

Before Keir knew what was happening he was laughing like a maniac, various parts of his body going back and forth between human and wolf erratically. He would've tried to flee the room as quickly as he could and get himself back under control, only to find that his hands and forearms were starting to grow crystalline as his partner's gift went just as haywire as his did.

By the time the gas had started to take effect Pax was barely standing to begin with, the alcohol in the punch alone managing to take quite a toll on her. Adding the gas to the mix only left her an euphoric mess squirming on the floor, puffs of smoke escaping her from time to time as she lost any and all control over her gift.

As soon as Anima realized what was happening she did her best to try and stumble into a corner as small, green beams erupted from around her occasionally, melting or detonating, if not outright vaporizing, whatever had the misfortune to be on the receiving end. As she started to succumb to the gas's effects she could only hope there wouldn't be anyone with holes melted through them when this was over.



Not long after the occupants of the Grand Hall started to fall victim to Cupid's effects, anyone looking out of the building's windows would see the assorted birds starting to converge on the area. As the birds reached the exterior of the Grand Hall their forms were quickly replace with those of men and women donning green and grey cloaks. All of them were armed with various weapons, with longbows and crossbows being the most common. Among them was a swan that shifted into a woman in her forties, whose blue eyes examined her surroundings whilst she shouted out orders to the others as they took up positions around windows and doors. Anyone who intended to leave who hadn't done so already was going to find themselves having a harder time now. The swan woman approached one of the windows near the main entrance of the hall, a hand rested on the hilt of the rapier at her hip. While she carried a weapon typical of her clan at her hip, she also had a rifle slung over her back, of the same make as the weaponry issued to Guardians. "Hold. No one is to go inside. Do not fire unless one of them tries to leave. Once more help arrives we'll assault the building." It didn't take long for her to see the state the students inside were in, and the fact that anyone still standing was wearing a mask. Stepping off to the side of the window before anyone inside got any bright ideas, she began to type away at her Unity Link, submitting a single request to the reinforcements that were to come: bring gas masks.

She marched over to the two Arachne who were already present. "Princess-Lieutenant Mae of Bloodline Olor. Do either of you know anything about what is going on inside?"

While the Arachne were still on route the two drugged members did their best they could to seal off any exits from the academy with webs. However, due to exposure to the neurotoxin both Alexandria and Ethelthrthy motor skills were hampered making the webs uniformed and abstract. The two of them could fight if need be, but they would not be at their best.

Patroling the academy as instructed the two of them would take note of the odd bird moment encircling the academy. Seeing the birds turn into men shortly after made Alexandria snicker, as the sky rained with men. Ethelthrthy still had most of her wits about her as she did not partake in more of the punch while outside of the academy. Did her best to try and focus her older cousin as the women approached the both of them.

As the cloaked women approached the two of them, Ethelthrthy stood at attention holding a salute with her cousin following shortly behind with only a slight stumbling. "Currently we're not up to date on the situation inside of the academy as we've yet to establish a stable line of communication. Our current orders are to hold the enemy at bay until reinforcements arrive". After Ethelthrthy reported to the woman, they continued to hold their salute and attention as they have yet to be dismissed by the now highest ranking officer on the field.

The headmaster struggled to sit up, sharp blue eyes fixing the woman with an icy glare. It didn't seem like the approach they took last time, was it? Throughout the woman's speech, the glare kept getting stronger. While powers were often times harmful, it was never the less part of them. Often, it would be helpful, and powers could save others if only they tried to use and control them for good. Though, whatever gas filled the room, Leo couldn't manage to pull himself up to argue his point.

His face flushed with heat, for what he didn't understand why. That was--until the voice of his own son filled the air in a strangled cry. The heat that flushed his face was not from any anger of Leo's own, but the sheer heat radiating off of Shepard. In waves, he could see the area around Shepard distort like a dark road in the heat of summer. Leo hadn't seen his son lose control like this since freshman year of Beata.

Losing control.

His eyes widened, the gas caused their powers to become unstable. An out of control sun is especially dangerous. As if proving his point, A large solar-like flare shot off of the Autumn prefect, arching into the grand hall with a rush of energy. Shepard's hands pulled at his hair, gritting his teeth as if he was trying to fight back, but didn't know how. When another arch of raw sunlight rushed overhead, Leo had to try his best not to vomit as a rush of radiation washed over him.

The one thing about his power--Radiation. If the masked people don't kill anyone, Shepard's passive radiation leakage would. As fast as he could in his disoriented state, Leo tapped a button on his phone, sending a signal to his son's unity link. Just like that, the light show ended, and Shepard was left on the floor, breathing heavily.

"Oh, no - Mr. Herman, you shouldn't be ruining their good time..." The voice echoed across the room, a melodic lilt as she grabbed the microphone off it's stand. Placing one foot carefully after the other, she strutted across the stage, stopping at the struggling shape of Leo and making a tsk-tsk. She brought her knee up, crushing it down towards his phone and hand with the steeled heel of her boot. "From one angel to another, I'll let you all onto one of God's secrets."

With a satisfied smile, she let herself slide down to the stage, casually letting her legs swing over the ledge - ignoring the blast of heat that bounced duly off her skin in a magnificent yellow glow. Parts of the ceiling cluttered down around them. "Our radiant King, I see him - battered and broken, falling from the sky... In a cold cavern, far from home." The girl sighed, her sleek white hair trailing aside her. "What a terrible way to die. If only Norman could see it."

She was lucky to notice the canister when she did.

The lieutenant noticed the metal container plummeting towards her and her guardsmen just in time to sprout wings and launch herself away from it. She was prepared to leap away again, only to be briefly caught off guard when the second canister landed in front of the entrance, only to realize the reasoning a second later. Her attention was drawn away from the hall's entrance when she heard several guardsmen who were too close to where the first canister landed start to break out into laughing fits before they started to lose control of their gifts shortly after. The maniacal laughter was quickly joined by tortured caws as they chaotically went back and forth between human and bird. Those fortunate enough to have been out of the gas's reach took aim at the top of the hall, a hail of arrows and bolts following. If that woman didn't have the sense to move, she'd be turned into a human pincushion very quickly.

Mae Olor stood now, rapier in hand, glaring at the canister blocking the entrance. Now if they intended to attack now, they'd have to use side doors and windows to get inside, while leaving the biggest exit to the building free to use. So the lieutenant stayed back, her growing impatience becoming apparent. They couldn't just stay out here forever; even if their original attacker was dead, it was unlikely that no one else would appear to take her place. It wasn't like they could just keep running from gas forever, especially when several of them had already succumbed to its effects. Hell, there probably wasn't much that was stopping those inside from using it to make an escape. For the moment, they could probably escape without much issue. For the moment.

The growing sound of boots and paws slamming against concrete approached the grand hall. Now a much larger legion of the green and grey figures was making a rapid approach, a plethora of different weapons in their grips. Smaller groups approached from the building's sides in addition to the main group of guardsmen coming from the front, which was led by a tall figure with a shortsword at each side. Montare Lupo marched his guardsmen up to the front entrance of the hall, his face obscured by a gas mask. Because of this, no one could see the revolted expression on his face when he saw the effect it had on several of the guardsmen that were already present. Nor could anyone see it turn to rage when he got close enough to see inside of the hall. Montare turned his gaze over to Mae. "Make sure no one leaves the hall." Without another word he continued forward until he stepped foot in the hall, stepping over the ruptured canister that stood in his path. He'd have to be careful to make sure nothing broke the seal of his mask if he didn't want to end up like everyone else who had the misfortune of inhaling it. As he made his way into the hall he was joined by a dozen men and women clad in the Lupine Guard's green and grey. Chief among them was Nearos Lupo, who looked to be almost the same age as Montare despite being several decades older with a tomahawk in his hand.

"This is your only warning to drop any weapons you have and surrender!" The gas mask muffled his voice somewhat, but it came out clearly enough. Not to mention how obvious it probably was even to someone who couldn't understand a word of it. Drawing his swords from his hip, Montare took off running towards the stage with Nearos following behind him, the two easily cutting down anyone foolish enough to stand in their way. The rest of the guardsmen meanwhile began to fan out, intending to subdue or outright kill any of the masked figures who didn't give up right away. A short-haired woman wielding a flail in one hand and a kite shield in the other approached the man who stabbed Roman, while a man wielding a ranseur made his way towards the masked woman turned gem thief. Any masked people aiming to escape the hall now were facing a nearly impossible task; their chance to do so had now passed. Even if they got outside, the building was surrounded by dozens of Clan Mutata Figura's shapeshifting warriors.

Montare and Nearos stopped at the front of the stage, Montare's gaze shifting between Leo and woman looming over him. Underneath his mask he broke a sweat, the immense amount of heat coming off of her betraying her status as another gifted.

"Step away from him. Now."

She could read when it was her queue to exit off the side of the stage. The masked girl shared one more longing look at the shape of Shepard wreathing on the ruined floors and slid off the stage as the walls erupted from behind them. With ease, she fell into the arms of another stranger, something of a giggle heard echoing faintly behind her disguise. Once the horrible shrieks from the mics and the dust settled down, she held up the speaker one last time.

"Our name is Null, remember that! It's been a blast, darlings! Enjoy the rest of your evening!" With a cheerful demeanor, she dropped the microphone to the ground and motioned at the others, shrugging her head and shoulder as if to say let's get out of here. She leaped out of the man's arms and made her way back up to the top of the stage - making a break for their escape.

---

Choking, sobbing, and with hideous laughter - the school's mighty, deputy headmaster finally heaved himself back and onto his feet, staring down with intensity as the masked assailants sang their own praises to the crowd. They taunted Leo, watching in mere amusement as his own son turned catatonic in the middle of the room, preventing any release. He willed himself to move, but it wasn't until the concussive blast blew out the back of the stage that he found it in him to finally get away from the spoiled punch tables. He was a mess, soaked in grape juice and his nostrils flared with the sting of alcohol, somehow, of course; but there was no paying mind to that now.

"LEO!" Samuel shouted as the shape of the headmaster, and other members of the band, went flying off the stage and rolled across the gritty tiles. He pushed past the cowering bodies of students and fell beside the body of Leo, left limp next to his poor son. Thankfully, he knew what to do, somewhat. Busting up Leo's link to save his own kid, wasn't that too much? Too cruel? He didn't have time to mule it over. Instead, he fished into his pockets. His hands were sweaty and shaking, and he could hardly see through his forced giggles and blurred vision. In a few moment's time, he managed to whip out a pen-shaped object, flipping off the cap and revealing a sharp needle at the end.

With a groan, he slammed it down into Shepard's thigh, holding it down to let the injection seep into his bloodstream.

"Out! OUT! EVERYONE G-GET OUT INTO THE COURTYARD!" He shouted, voice collapsing in places. He whipped his head around, looking to Guardians, CMF, anyone who could possibly still be standing... if there was anyone left. "Help the students! And GO AFTER THEM!"

The crown was his. The masked null member grinned as he broke the large gem from the queen's crown metal still attached to where the gem was set into the crown, but it was much easier to carry than the entire crown. Satisfied at the struggling gifted students and faculty, a cruel smile crossed his face, hidden behind the mask. Fools, monsters. The lot of them.

3,2,1.

The stage exploded, the headmaster and multiple band members being thrown off of the stage, then the deputy headmaster running headlong into deadly radiation to administer a power calming drug into the boy's system. The man watched with narrowed eyes as Shepard's convulsing slowed to a stop, and the heat-thinned out. It was only the other man's yell toward CMF that brought him to attention. The others--were gone, or almost gone. 'Ah fuck'

They turned tail and struggled onto the stage, slipping past rocks and metal bars to get up, but the sounds of footsteps were getting closer. Behind a blank white mask, eyes widened in shock, and up ahead to their team, they called out to catch, aiming to pitch the gem towards the fleeing backs of his fellow blanks.

But as his hand was pitched back to toss it, a hand caught his own by the wrist.