Susan yelped as her back hit the wall of the elevator, shaking the capsule. January struck next to her, spread-eagle against the steel surface.

What had happened? It was like a massive invisible fist had hit her, sent her flying backwards like so much refuse. An Aether ability from the green man, without a doubt, but what kind of attack was it? There hadn't been so much as a rippling of the air to give the game away.

She went to lift her rifle, to blast the man's brains out before he could attack again -- but too late. A second blow hit her, sending her into the wall once more. Pain flared through her body as countless bones broke and began to repair themselves.

The green man kept his hands in his pockets as he strolled casually forwards, boots thumping against the polished floor. His demeanor was carefree, but his expression was anything but -- the shadows that stretched under his eyes were such that they left no doubt as to his intentions.

"Y'know," he said, drawing closer. "I've been putting a lotta thought into you guys -- you, uh, Repurposed." He said the word as if he was tasting it. "You guys can come back from pretty much everything, yeah?"

Bang.

Susan and January were sent flying back into the wall again -- the intervals between attacks was decreasing, all but perpetually holding them in place. There was a sickening crunch from January with impact, and his head lolled forward. That attack must have broken his neck: he'd be unable to move for a few seconds, then.

Bang.

Susan tried to pull herself off the wall at a bad moment, and the attack that came in answer made her arm bend the wrong way as she was sent back again. Broken bone, dripping with red Aether, protruded from her elbow. The pain was nearly unbearable, but Susan simply gritted her teeth: she wouldn't give this dirty Crownless the satisfaction.

"I could blow your head off," the man continued to explain. "And you'd just get up a few seconds later, yeah? Tough cookie. So I've been putting a lot of thinking into how I'm gonna take care of you."

Bang.

Susan was sent back into the wall again, now leaving a substantial indentation, her face forced into the metal with such speed and force that one of her massive multi-eyeballs burst from the impact. That made her scream.

Bang.

"I thought about maybe impaling you, ya know, to capture you and whatnot," the green man took one hand out of his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck. "But that kinda seemed like a half-measure, you know what I mean? No offense, but what I really want is for you to be dead. As soon as possible."

Bang.

"Then I got this little idea."

Bang.

Susan's jaw collapsed in on itself, her body crumpling like folded paper against the wall. Her rifle was a hunk of useless scrap, sparks flowing like grain out of the snapped barrel. The green man was standing right in the doorway of the elevator now, but Susan was powerless to reach him -- even the slightest movement was met with another attack.

He brushed a stray lock of black hair out of his face. "You guys regenerate, yeah? Grow back whatever we take away. But I'm willing to bet you still need some sort of, uh, central mass… to regenerate from, you know?"

Bang.

A low, pained sound was echoing out of January's helmet -- like the whoops of dying livestock. Susan went to open her mangled jaw, to say something, but the only thing that flowed forth was blood and flattened organs.

"I just find it hard to believe that paste can regenerate, yeah?" The green man grinned without humour, his eyes pinpricks of malice. "So I'm giving it a little go. You say hi to Dragan for me, yeah?"

It took everything she had, but Susan managed to force strangled words through her wreckage of a mouth. "Who… the hell… is…?"

The green man stepped forward, into the elevator.

"Heartbeat Landmine," he said.

"Heartbeat Landmine," he said.

"Heartbeat Landmine," he said.

----------------------------------------

Dragan coughed, pulling the security uniform onto his body to preserve what was left of his dignity. North waited atop the quarantine cell, legs swinging carefree off the side.

"So, ah," he said, scratching his cheek with a finger. "You ain't a normal human, huh? Not with healing like that."

Dragan looked away as he laced up the combat boots. "Apparently not."

North raised an eyebrow. "How'd that happen?"

"No clue," Dragan lied. "I woke up and I was just like this."

He winced as the imaginary shouting of Pan echoed throughout the room. "Lying dead boy!" she cried, aghast. "You do know! You do!"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

North dropped off the quarantine cell with feline grace, landing with barely a sound. "Seems to me you're the same sort of thing as that faceless freak," he ventured. "Repurposed, right?"

"Doesn't feel like I've got much purpose," Dragan muttered as he stood up, driving the dead guard's stun pistol into his new holster. "How about you? What's your purpose?"

North smirked. "To spread love and joy wherever I go, of course."

"No. What is your purpose, here? You said you'd help me get back to the crew if I help you. What is it you want from me?"

The playful smile on North's face faded, and his gaze drifted up to the ceiling, like he could see through it. "There's a room up there…" he said quietly.

"It's a skyscraper. That's to be expected."

"Don't be an ass," North snapped -- and the sudden and genuine sincerity in his voice was enough to shut Dragan up for a moment. "There's a room up there under top security, serious lock and key shit. I need to get in there for my job, take a look around. You help me out, I help you out. Capiche?"

Dragan tightened his mouth to a thin line. "And where're Skipper and the others in all this?"

North shrugged. "Last I checked, they were downstairs with the rest of the refugees."

And there it was. Dragan gave a smirk of his own, and a dismissive wave of the hand. "The thing you want is up, and the thing I want is down. You see the conflict of interests here."

North paused -- and it took Dragan only a moment to recognise that he was too still, too calm. No doubt he'd just switched places with a hologram, and was now moving around the room invisibly. Dragan made sure to give no sign that he'd realized.

"We had a deal," North growled. "You owe me."

Dragan kept his eyes fixed on the hologram, staring it down as he replied. "The last time we met, you almost got me killed. Now you've helped me bust out of jail. I'm struggling to see the part of this exchange where I now owe you something?"

Danger infested North's tone, the bedrock beneath his carefree facade. "I can do some nasty stuff, you know," he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "You'd be surprised at the sorts of things that can happen to your brain just from looking at stuff. Seizures are just the start of it. Real nasty business."

"So you're threatening me?"

The hologram blinked out of existence, giving Dragan leave to look around for where North had ended up. No luck -- he was still invisible. The Umbrant's voice echoed throughout the room: "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am threatening you. Funny how that works out, huh?"

Dragan crossed his arms. "Not gonna cut it," he addressed the chamber. "You know how my Gemini World works? You can't show me anything if I'm not here, North. I have the advantage."

"You got a point, there, you got a point. But I still got another trick up my sleeve."

Dragan's eyes darted around the room, trying to track the source of North's voice -- but it was no good.

"And what's that?" he asked cautiously.

"I've shown you Mr. Stick," North said. "Now meet Mr. Carrot."

There was a flicker of light as North reappeared, and Dragan nearly jumped out of his skin. The Umbrant was leaning over Dragan's shoulder, staring right into his eyes, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips and exposing his teeth. Their proximity was such that their faces were only inches from each other.

"You help me," North promised. "And I'll tell you what Skipper's plan is."

----------------------------------------

Bruno winced as he turned the battered helmet over in his hands, doing his best not to stare at the red-and-pink slurry that poured free.

It looked like Skipper had been right -- completely crushing these Repurposed did seem to suffice to put them down for good. It looked like, in order to regenerate, they needed some stable central mass to grow forth from. Get rid of that, and they'd die just like anyone else.

"You're sure they're not coming back?" Ruth called from inside the ruined elevator. The module was useless now, thanks to Skipper crushing the two enemies between it and his Landmine, but the other elevator would still be working.

"Yeah," Bruno replied, looking down at the tatters of what might have once been an eyeball. "They're fucked."

"So they're dead, or…?"

Fair enough. Fucked was a much more neutral description when it came to the Repurposed. "Yeah. They're as dead as it gets."

This is gross, Bruno! Serena protested as Bruno glanced down at the puddle of human. Let's do something else!

"Can't," Bruno muttered. "Orders are orders."

His gaze returned to the second elevator -- or the space where it had been previously, before Skipper had taken it up.

Make sure the refugees keep to the side rooms, he'd told them, after dispatching the two Repurposed. Keep 'em safe -- and if any more of these things make it down here, you take a page out of my book, yeah?

Easier said than done. Ruth could shred to no end with those claws of hers, and Bruno was no slouch in a fight either -- but he couldn't imagine either of them eviscerating an enemy like Skipper just had.

Sometimes, that man scared him.

----------------------------------------

"You alright, Atoy?"

Muzazi groaned as he returned to consciousness, feeling the weight of debris being lifted off his body. His eyes fluttered open -- and immediately widened in surprise.

Marie had taken on a humongous, hulking form, all hardened bone and bulging biceps, every inch of exposed muscle displaying utter power. The room around her was a mess, burn marks scorching the walls and floors -- and when Muzazi looked down at himself, he saw that he was drenched in human blood not his own.

Immediately, his hand went to Luminescence, the weight of the blade reassuring. Good. It hadn't been damaged. Luminescence being damaged was the very worst case scenario.

"What happened?" he grunted, rising on unsteady feet.

With a fluid flex of her body, Marie returned to her normal human form, hair still sticking out in every direction. "The asshole set off a grenade -- I only just managed to get in the way and shield you. It was a close one."

Muzazi looked down at his crimson-painted clothing. "A suicide attack?" He'd thought his enemy had more pride than that.

Marie shook her head. "No corpse. I'm guessing he healed and made a retreat. What now? We go after him?"

The battle was incomplete, to be sure. Muzazi's hand tightened around Luminescence's hilt, but he slowly shook his head.

"No," he sighed, turning away -- and suddenly feeling the exhaustion and pain of the battle all at once. "No, the night is done."

Marie slowly nodded, but the sarcastic comment Muzazi would have usually expected never came.

He took a deep breath as he sat down on the floor. "I don't mean to be vulgar, Marie," he said, a rueful smile coming to his face. "But I really need a damn nap."