Endless(semi-literate+)

[Noel]

There is no escaping the fights, the blood, the death, and the misery.
Escape is not a goal anymore. Just staying alive as long as possible...

It's a different universe, or some would like to believe that. Through apocalypse and calamity, earth is a crime-run world. Every nation is at war, but it's not like the wars before everything; there are no guns anymore. Gunpowder actually ran out years before. Swords and shields are suddenly popular again. Some technology remains from before, hoverboards and microwaves for example, but everything is unsteady and unsafe. Every country is craving soldiers.

You might have had a normal life once. Just maybe, but who knows. Doesn't matter anymore. Because you took the test, perhaps unwillingly even if you're in one of the countries in which it is required. A small test that involved a bit of your blood dropped onto a piece of paper. It was to test if you had the right kind of blood to be used for the genetic and cell experiments the governments uses to create super-soldiers of sorts, called Crisis fighers, that are always unmatched by anyone else. The chance was one in several thousand. Your results were positive.
The price of having positive results is simple; you have to go through with the change, and fight for the country. You would be dragged of kicking and screaming if they had to. There was no escaping it. But the change only works on about 60% of the people tested. What happens to the ones who it didn't work? They were left worse then helpless, horribly weak and their limbs don't move like they should. For a few months after the test if it's really bad, they can't move at all.

You were in the group that managed to escape before the chips were placed in your arms that they could use to electrically shock you almost no matter how far away you would be from them, to death if they chose. Through a thankfully unlocked door and a lot of luck ten people, who the change was successful and who could not bear the idea of entering the war, escaped from where they were being held. Along the way, the stopped in the rooms were the unsuccessful were held, grabbing anyone they knew and running away with them.

You are about hundred miles away from civilization now, living with the other nine and the unsuccessfuls. It's been two weeks. Attacks from armies are growing frequent, and you are just learning to use your abilities. Meanwhile, you must protect those weak ones who were unsuccessful; positive results on the test are genetic, one of them could easily be a sibling.

Welcome to a world where the enemies just keep coming, and there is no escape. Just keep fighting, for yourself and for those you love, with no way to win. Perhaps you are seeking the dream of freedom, some are. But to most, the goal is not to escape from everything, it's to stay alive as long as possible, and that's it.

You are an escaped Crisis fighter. Or, as others say, a prisoner who will not escape the death row.

[Noel]

About Crisis Fighters

They're supersoliders. They can jump over five feet from a standing position with ease, can throw large rocks across football fields, and react fast enough to avoid a gunshot. They're beyond dangerous. The drugs required for this change only work on one a in a few thousand, making them very desired. And from the few that show positive in the testing that shows if the drugs would work on them, only 60% of them are successful. After the change to being a Crisis solider is finished, whether successful or not the person is very weak, in extreme cases even unable to move entirely. With the successful, the weakness fades and they become stronger then any human could ever be. With the unsuccessful, they stay that weak, never becoming as strong as the average human again.

Rules
I'm sure you'll survive them. XD

1. This is semi-literate. I ask for ten lines a post minimum.
2. Very light powerplaying(ex: Bob hit Joe's arm) is allowed. Fights would never end if every blow was aimed, eh? Large things must just be aimed though, let the other person decide if it hits.
3. Please, no perfect characters.
4. OCs only.
5. No more then two character apiece without PMing me first.
6. Anime and real pictures are fine.
7. On swearing: I expect maturity. Follow CS rules of course, but I don't want any freak-outs if I say 'crap'.

Characters

Crisis Soliders:

Female:

Male:
Ren Kurone

Unsuccessfuls:
Skye Briht


Attackers(enemies):

[Noel]

Form (:

Code: Select all

     [b]Username:[/b]
        [img]Picture here. Anime or real is fine. Not required.[/img]
        [b]Name:[/b]
        [b]Nickname:[/b]
        [b]Age:[/b]
        [b]Gender:[/b]
        [b]Role(Crisis fighter, unsuccessful, enemy):[/b]

        [b]Description:[/b]
        [b]Height:[/b]
        [b]Weight:[/b]

        [b]Personality:[/b]
        [b]History?(I understand writing out full histories leaves no room for big reveals. Just a few lines is fine.):[/b]
        [b]Best at(sword combat, stealth, basic combat, etc):[/b]
        [b]Goals?:[/b]
        [b]Crush?(Fill out later if not applicable):[/b]

-My characters are gonna go here-

Username: Riliane & Allen

Name: Skye Briht
Nickname: Sky-Sky. Ren is the only person allowed in the world to call him that.
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Role: Unsuccessful.

Description:Skye looks a bit younger then his age, it's often hard to believe he's really seventeen. Light brown, poorly cut, and somewhat long for a boy hair constantly gets in his face. When it gets particularly annoying, he ties it back in an inch long ponytail. Yes he looks like a girl, no he doesn't care. His hair stands out being a shade or two lighter than his skin, but as this is hardly a very unnatural feature, he isn’t bothered much about it. He has an average height for his age, although for various reasons he weighs less than what would be considered average. His eyes are hardly intimidating: a light, cheery looking green. He never turned toward body modifications, all he has in the way of distinctive features is one, small scar above his left eye. His vision is above average, but only in the right eye, which occasionally gives him headaches but nothing more serious. His fingers are constantly moving, whether picking a lock, tapping a desk, throwing a rock, tying shoes, etc. He has long legs, to some extent, which gave him ability to run, making up for a build that couldn’t fight no matter how much it wanted to. Skye is never seen still, he’s always kicking up dirt, smiling happily at nothing in particular, or running as if the apocalypse is on his trail. To a passerby, he gives the appearance of happy, somewhat hyperactive, child who’s different in ways that can’t quite be pinned down.
Or at least he did before becoming an unsuccessful left him almost completely unable to move, pale and shaky as well as sickly.

Height: 5'6
Weight: 105.

Personality:Skye is an interesting boy indeed. To put it simply; he's ambitious, and can't bear to lose, or at least he used to be. That actually has caused his entire personality to form around those two traits. From the days when he was running around on the streets without parents or friends, newly freed from prison or being chased by an angry shopkeeper with a gun, Skye always thought that he had to win, that if he didn't his life would be over almost. For that reason, he toiled for hours practicing swordplay, stealth, and any other trait he might need in his life as a thief. Whatever he has he wants something better, making it so that he's never content and always reaching for the stars. Some say he's crazy, and promptly Skye will attack them. Now a weak unsuccessful, there's not much he can do anymore. But he still has ever lasting goals, to stay alive and protect Ren. He ca't really do that either, but he dreams.
However, behind his odd nature, Skye does have a soft side. Assuming it won't prevent him from staying alive, Skye is the type to stop and help a child who tripped. Having once been one, Skye does his best to help street-children. He rarely cares about much anymore of course, but even if he can't more correctly he tries to help the other unsuccessfuls move around and such when the Crisis Soliders protecting them are busy. Still, wherever he is, Skye's gaze is always elsewhere, straining to see the friends he left behind the day he had a positive result, and to see if Ren is still breathing and happy.
History?: Skye was a street-child for almost all of his life. He can't even really remember his parents, who had thrown him out the window of their home and locked the door and windows until he staggered away. Living as a thief was a fine life for him, and he had been good at it. He met Ren when he himself was just thirteen, Ren eight. The two boys were instant friends, and went everywhere together. Life was often hard, often they went to sleep hungry and bruised, but they stayed alive. All until the day that the street that they were sleeping in was closed off, all of the street-children in it not allowed to leave until they took the indicator test that citizens were required to take to see if they could become Crisis soldiers. Skye was tested first. In front of his eyes, the blood they had taken from his finger turned a pale green when they added the testing drug to it. A positive. He fought, he screamed, he kicked, he cried, but there was no escape after a positive result. Handcuffed to a fence until the tests on the others were done, he watched helplessly as Ren too was dragged up to be tested. Hell had given the the worst luck it ever could of. The chances were one in a few thousand that either of them would be positive, but then, in frint of Skye's crying eyes, Ren was a positive too. Both children were dragged off. Ren was given the drugs first, Skye was postponed so they could make sure he had no other drugs in him before starting, as that could cause a fatal reaction. He got to see Ren once during that, passing his unconscious form by in a hallway. Knowing he would be searched, Skye slipped the key he had stolen into Ren's pocket. That very day, Skye received the drugs as well. But he didn't emerge a Crisis Solider, he emerged a failure. Ren, using the key, broke out with several others he next day, bringing an immobile Skye with him.
Best at: He's an unsuccessful. He can't do much of anything anymore.
Goals?: Ren, everything to with him. He will do anything to keep a smile on that boy's face, that's his only purpose now.
Crush?: No one. Ren is a brother to him, not that.

Username: Riliane & Allen

Name: Ren Kurone
Nickname: Ren
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Role: Crisis Solider

Description:Ren is small and slim, without much heft to him. Among the Crisis soldiers, he is just about the smallest and weakest. He's never weighed much, and hasn't had a growth spurt to give him a few extra inches yet. His face is childish and small, mostly unscarred and cute. With large eyes and small features, it's hard to believe he could hurt a fly. His legs are long, for one of his height anyways, so he can run fairly fast. He's missing a finger and two toes from a particularly cold winter and his hands have scars from frostbite from that winter as well. He wears gloves almost to cover that, along with his almost signature small scarf to hide his neck. He has two sets of thin, crossed scars there from a run in with a gang when he was younger, and that was their way of giving a warning.
Despite those injuries though, Ren's hands are always moving, whether tapping a table, throwing a stone, slapping someone, etc. His shaky form never stands still, always running around to do something, no matter how unimportant. He's never clean; the minute he's found water to take a bath, Ren finds dirt to fall face-first into. His fluffy red hair is always a mess, looking as if several animals built their home in it. He frequently tries to flatten it down, to no avail. All in all, Ren looks like a young, almost cute child that's been through a lot. Which, in a way, he is. Or was.
Height: 4'10
Weight: 85 pounds

Personality:Ren isn't your average Crisis fighter. Most people aren't even sure why he's there. Ren doesn't like to fight, and is far from an overachiever. He highly prefers to be on the sidelines and tend to the wounded then in the actual fighting. He doesn't have many goals other then staying alive, but if he has to fight to achieve that then so be it. Ren is a quiet but hyperactive boy. He shrinks away from conversation when he can, but he's always got some new idea to try out. His favorite place is a small cave near the camp where the him and others are hiding, where he can hide and hope no one can see him.All he wants is to vanish into thin air, but that's not an option obviously.
He's friendly enough around people he knows, and the quiet, musical sound of his laugh can be heard. He's smile and talk, albeit not much, and usually Ren doesn't have anger or depression fits. With strangers, Ren has an irritating habit of shrinking behind other Crisis soliders, doing his best to not have to interact with them in any way. With enemies though, Ren's attitude changes drastically. If he knows they could smash him into the ground, Ren runs without hesitation. He sees nothing wrong with fleeing to save his own skin. However, if he think he could stand against them, Ren becoming indescribably vicious, doing anything to hurt them. That's probably the only reason he's still alive.
History?: Abandoned by parents who didn't want a sickly little boy to feed at the age of six, Ren spent his years wandering the streets with Skye, stealing to stay alive. He had nothing against that existence, and to him it was almost fun running around being a thief. An occasional sparkling trinket stolen and kept helped with that feeling. However, the day their sleeping street was blocked off, everyone there ordered to stand against the wall for testing to see if they could become Crisis Soldiers, it all ended. He watched, helpless, as Skye was yanked forwards, finger pierced to draw blood. Wide-eyed, Skye little drop of blood turned pale green when dropped into the jar of drugs that indicated being able to become a Crisis solider. Ren had screamed louder then thought possible, and he didn't even realized for several minutes that he had both been dragged forward to be tested as well, that his blood too turned that pale green against all the odds. He was put through the change within an hour, and while he was unconscious Skye slipped him a stolen key. Using that a few days later to get the door to their holding room open, Ren and a few others escaped, and he grabbed Skye on the way.
Best at(sword combat, stealth, basic combat, etc): Hand-to-hand fighting or with daggers is his best.
Goals?: Stay alive, with Skye.
Crush?: None.

[Aster]

Username: atmosphere.



Name: Alle Katherine Cross
Nickname: Kat, but only select few have permission to call her that.
Age: Fifteen. She turns sixteen on March, 2nd.
Gender: Female.
Role(Crisis fighter, unsuccessful, enemy): Crisis fighter.

Description: Alle is a slim and lithe girl. She's always had problems with her weight, refusing to believe others when they said - in much aggravated tones - that's she's fine as she is, she's just thin enough. Alle is always after becoming thinner and her main dilemma with this particular worry is that she's obsessed with food. She's always hanging around when someone starts to cook, in the hopes of being able to taste it. She'll eat plenty, too, when the time comes for a meal - she matches the appetites of people three times her size, but each time she manages to stop herself from eating even more with the thought of, Alle, you need to get thinner. Stop eating, now. Otherwise you'll regret it later. She wants to become slender-er, but she's simply not bothered enough to actually put effort into this one goal of hers. It's surprising she hasn't put on much weight, but both of her parents had high metabolisms, so, in a way, it makes sense.

Alle has beautiful red hair that looks like an unnatural color, but isn't. It falls in waves around her head, looking silky, but is surprisingly dry to the touch. When she fled into the wilderness with the others, she chopped her locks short - to just above her chin - as it was more practical than her prior long mane. She was crying as she did so, as she considers her hair to be her one pride deserving feature. Alle's face is all rounded edges and soft flesh. She has a sloping nose that ends slightly upturned, and plump lips that look surprisingly washed out against her skin. She has fair skin with scatterings of freckles on her cheeks and directly above her nose, her 'pig snout.' Alle's eyes are of vivid blue. They're considered more 'freaky,' and 'unnerving' rather than pretty. Short, blunt eyelashes surround her eyes and bushy eyebrows arch overhead. The entire package could, all together, be considered attractive - Alle thinks she is beautiful at times, and at other times despises herself.
Height: 5'4
Weight: 115

Personality: Alle is relatively easy to describe. She's childish, bipolar, and attention seeking. This girl has never grown up. When she discovered the powers she had been given, she started thinking of all the fun things she could do with them, not the people she could help, or the causes that could use her assistance. And then she was flooded by depression, with many thoughts following along the lines of, Great. I'm a freak. Just like I always knew I was. Her next barrage of thoughts were filled with images of her being a hero, of her doing something praiseworthy and winning the attention of some dreamy guy who she did not yet know. Alle, however, is to lazy to ever accomplish something like any of those prior stated thoughts. She's a dreamer, not a doer. She'll put in minimal effort, never trying too hard. She's one who thinks life will just bow down before her, and she'll accomplish great things without lifting a single finger.

She's also independent. She won't let you help her, no matter how much she's struggling with something. Even if it means she fails, she won't let you even pick up her bag. Alle is what people consider soft. She's not used to things along the lines of blood and gore, and no matter what she says about her being tough, and not able to do anything, see anything, hear anything, without flinching, show her a dead guy, or even a cut that's bleeding just a bit, she'll make up some excuse to get away from that place. Immediately. Even though she's not that big on fighting, she's a survivor. She'll do anything to live. She loves life, and doesn't plan to leave it for a long while.

History?(I understand writing out full histories leaves no room for big reveals. Just a few lines is fine.): Alle was born with two middle-class parents. However, one day they got caught up in a gang war between two deadly groups. Her parents were killed, and Alle fled when the offending members were looting the house. Then twelve, she was pretty resourceful and managed to survive until the time came when she became a Crisis Fighter. She has a younger sister who disappeared from their hideout - a abandoned house that was half burned - when she was out scrounging for food. She hasn't seen her since. But she swears one day she'll find her.

Alle was one of those who was dragged to be a Crisis Fighter kicking and screaming. She's never wanted to be different in this way. (To be added to later.)
Best at(sword combat, stealth, basic combat, etc): Stealth; she's mediocre at all sword play.
Goals?: To find her younger sister who disappeared in the chaos of living on the streets.
Crush?(Fill out later if not applicable): None, currently.

[Noel]

To everyone who reserved a slot: you have twenty-four hours from now to post a form. If you don't, I'm opening up the space for someone else who wants it. ^^

[Hobo!]

{I'll finish tomorrow}

Username: Hobo!

Name: Michelle Raine Traub
Nickname: Mitch, and that is what you must call her.
Age: 17
Gender: Seventeen

Description: Mitch is a muscular girl, but still appears mildly skinny, especially in her arms. She has a skinny, but firm belly that sports a tough abdomen. Her legs are also well defined, her thighs, instead of possessing celulite, possess tough muscle. Her calves are much like her thighs. Tough and muscular. Through all of this muscle, the girl still seems to keep her skinny looking appearance.
She has sharp features, especially on her face. Speaking of which, she has a small nose and thin lips. Her chin is almost pointed, but it doesn't jut out like you'd presume it would. Her lips, although thin, are quite shapely and have a very defined look to them. The usual color of them is actually closer to a strawberry red than a normal pink color, probably due to her biting her lips so often. She has slim, almond shaped eyes, which are the color of said nut. Her almond colored and shaped eyes are quite stunning. The color is lighter than normal, but also, around the iris, is a ring of darker brown that makes her pale brown eyes seem more of a normal color.
The girls hair is very short, more of a boy's style than a girl's. It usually looks messy, but more in a perfectly messy sort of way.
Height: 5"4
Weight: 130 Lbs

Personality: Unlike most girls, Mitch is a though chick. She is always sure to stand her ground, avoid drama, and rarely spreads gossip. She's more like one of the guys, going out to pubs when they land and gambling with them, laughing at their jokes, and of course wrestling. She doesn't even consider herself a girl. She's a guy through and through, fighting like one, talking like one, and even walking like one.
But, when you chip off this though exterior.. She's still pretty tough. She is the same person around everybody. She's sarcastic and joking, even to those shyer guys or gals, she's mischievous even around the rule-followers. She's also a leader, and isn't afraid to show it. She can be sort of bossy, especially when she's under pressure, so when she's fighting. Sword fighting is her passion, and she shows it. She's very good with a sword, and can easily present that fact when she's in battle, or even in training.
Mitch is one of the unsuccessfuls that wants to live. Even though she knows and fully understands how unlikely it is that that will happen, she still is going to do what she can to protect herself. So she'll use her, now limited, fighting skill to get her through this, hoping and praying that she'll actually make it out alive. Hopefully to freedom, somewhere she can stay and not have an army come at her every day.
But one thing about her she doesn't like to admit.. She's a hopeless romantic. She's always dreamt of some strong guy to come along and fall in love with, who would sweep her off her feet and they would be on the ship together, fighting along each other's side. The one kink in this small fantasy, is that Mitch doesn't form crushes easily, if at all. Prince charming would have to get past her toughness and make her fall in love.
History?: The girl grew up on one of the few all-labor farms left of the day. Her mother died when she was young, being left in the care of her father and four brothers. She was recruited to do farm work, and learned to be a guy. Stop caring about dollies and flowers, but get used to hoisting bails of hay and plowing fields. She ran away when she got fed up with her father and brothers treating her differently because she was a girl. She lived on the streets for just a bit, but eventually.. She got picked up by them. Now she's fighting.
Best at: Swords and heavy lifting.
Goals?: Fight to the death or make it out alive.
Crush?: Nobody. She just doesn't have time.

--

Username: Hobo!

Name: Regan Logan Sharp
Nickname: Just Regan; shortening a two syllable name is useless in his opinion.
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Role: Successful

Description: Regan is a taller guy, yet quite slim. He has a thin figure, and sports it well. He lacks the usual muscle that a taller guy would have, instead he's a bit lanky. Instead, he sports bony, tanned skin and he flaunts it well. Instead of sitting around and pouting about his bony body, he appreciates it and wears a lot of short sleeves. He has strangely large hands, not well-fitting to his scrawny body.
His face comes next, and it is an interesting one. He had soft, yet square features that made his face different, and lovely at the same time. He had thick, plump, pouty lips that were forever a light and attractive pink color. They lie just above his square chin, and they usually wore a small frown instead of a smile. His nose was square as well, and he detested it, for it was large and awkward in his opinion, considering the rest of him was so petite and small. His eyes were small almonds, the color of gravel that paved a dirty road. Gray-ish colored with smudges of brown peeking their way through. Above that were thick eyebrows. Those two areas were what he showed emotion with, more-so than words and lips.
His hair was a tight, very light brown-ish mop that resided on his head, always holding the same style. It stayed just above his eyes if he kept it cut correctly. Which somehow, he always kept it.
Height: 6"5
Weight: 150 lbs

Personality: Regan is definitely not like other males. He leans and shys away from other people whom he does not trust or know, and because of this, his immense feeling of being shy and timid, he rarely craves attention. If he does end up with the strange emotion though ,and he's chosen to try and accept it from you, then you're probably special to him in some way only he can really deduce. He doesn't trust, until you become a person he cares and protects. Until you've proven yourself. Proven that you are serious about how he is, and his well-being.
Despite his fragile trust that he has now ensued on the human race, he has a strange glow to him. That glow, rightfully called so, is optimism. It was tender, not very well kept, but for some reason it persisted, staying there like an annoying sibling that almost nobody wanted around. He always saw the bright side of things, annoyingly enough to many'a people. But Regan did, and he persisted with it, much to his own dismay. He couldn't see the bad in people, even though he didn't trust them, he saw them all as people.
When you're lucky enough to really see him, past the shyness and odd optimism, become a friend, his brave and arrogant side mixes with his crazy optimism. He's a rare, strange mix of a brave, happy, arrogant idiot,who protects and loves his friends and family to a tee. He doesn't enjoy hurting or pranking people. Even if he doesn't know them personally. But if you lay a hand on his friends, or even threaten to, he will, without hesitation, harm you. Brutally. He often lays down his morals without noticing he is. Reagna rarely harms people younger than him or significantly weaker, unless they are proving as a danger to his friend or family.
He can easily take a hit or two, and if he has to, he can throw a hit or a few back.
His arrogance makes him stupid in situations which makes him reckless in a sense. He was captured like others,his blood was postive for the crisis soldiers.He was a successful male,a rare occurence.But now hes trying to escape or save a few.Hes reckless,and arrogant.A prideful,reckless idiot.He hated the fact that was a success,but he wasn't going to throw it away,he was going to use it against them.He was going to be the hero they wouldn't expect.A reckless, pitiful hero.
History?: He lived a normal, comfortable life with his family. It was them three all the time, close and safe, always together instead of away.
They all had to go and be tested.
He was successful, they weren't. What more is there to say? He's permanently haunted by their memory, wishing, oh wishing so, that he could go get them. But he couldn't. He would never see the familiar, loving faces he grew up with in the humble home.
Best at: Hand to hand combat.
Goals?: Protecting everybody as long as he can; he doesn't want to let any innocent person die on his watch.
Crush?: None

[Noel]

((Okay guys, if you reserved a spot but haven't posted your form, I'll give you another few hours. But you really have to post them, or someone else will get your spot. >_>
Also, don't worry about not having your posts be nearly this long. I just wanted to give some backstory.))

Ren Kurone, Crisis-Solider

Fourteen days had gone by since then, but to Ren it might has well have been fourteen years. He wasn't even fourteen yet, but the past two weeks had felt longer then his entire life. Fourteen rises of the sun ago, Ren had been locked away in a holding cell somewhere in the center of the city, expecting no life other then that of a tortured solider on the battlefield. His attention had been on Skye at the time, who was being operated on as he waited, to see if the boy would end up a successful as well. However, while thinking, his hand brushed against something in his pocket that he hadn't known to be there. A small key, perfectly silver, and as Ren soon found out after fumbling it for a moment, fit perfectly into the lock on the door holding him and the others. While he wouldn't know until later, Skye had placed that there for him, having stolen it within the first few minuets of being there. It had saved both their lives in the end.
The instant the door clicked open, the alarms had blared. Ren hadn't even thought; he gestured to the others, and then ran as fast as he could down the first hallway that he saw. Much to his luck, his frenzied gaze had caught sight of an unconscious boy slumped across a hospital bed, the tag around his neck labeled him as 'unsuccessful'. Ren hadn't cared about that though; he would recognize the blond ponytail of the boy anywhere, and knew it was his dear friend Skye. Grabbing the immobile boy, Ren had been a lucky one. Many of those who attempted to run away where caught before they got outside, Ren and Skye weren't.
Together with the others and the unsuccessfuls they had also taken with them, they had spent days running. Their new bodies, much to their surprise, didn't tire after hours of full-sprint. After just a few days, they were over a hundred miles away from the city, in the middle of a grassland where they made an improvised camp. They had the sense to grab along their way a few sleeping bags and general supplies, and it wasn't that hard to find the necessities for survival. There was a river that ran clean with fish, fruit was ripe in the trees, and there were plenty of small animals who didn't know to be afraid of these humans. Ren hadn't had any difficulty getting enough food and water for himself and Skye, and more. Shelter was a small overhang under a cliff if pouring rain became unbearable, but other then that they braved the weather. No one bothered to look ahead to winter.

Because food and water, shelter and a home, those things didn't matter. The fighters kept coming, huge ranks of soldiers who's purpose was to capture or kill them. Already one of their number had died fighting against them, and there was injuries galore. Ren had broken an arm, but before his eyes it had healed within three days. The gashes patched themselves up within hours, back to normal in a few days. The unsucessfuls though had it worse then normal; Skye, when Ren had tripped while running and carrying him, had taken a deep scratch under one eye, and even two weeks later it had barely healed at all. Right then, Ren was busy. A small group of soldiers, maybe twenty, had arrived, clearly trying to sneak up on them. Ren had been the first to see them, and given it was only twenty armed with swords and a single gun he decided to take them alone. Already, nearly all of them were dead.

Another one down. Ren noted grimly as kicked one of them upside the head. Normally a blow like that from a small child like Ren would have been useless, in this case it rewarded him with a bright splash of blood and another body to clean up later. Hearing the screech from the solider near the one he had just killed, Ren smirked grimly. The solider aimed the blade of their sword at his neck in a trained blow, that would have felled a normal human with ease. To Ren it seemed to move in slow motion. Almost bored, he crouched slightly and leaped. Soaring about five feet up, he landed in the branches of a tree above. The blade missed its mark.
Not missing a beat, Ren jumped again, this time downwards. His feet collided with the back of the solider who had nearly beheaded him, snapping the man's spine almost instantly. Lightly stepping off the corpse, Ren was greeted by horrified looks. It was not normal for a twelve-year-old to be able to kill nearly twenty highly trained soldiers with swords with only his bare hands, now was it?

"Monster! Things like you shouldn't run free!" The voice made Ren cringe. It was like he had chosen to be dragged off kicking and screaming, that it was a crime for him to had fled before he had the chip implanted in his flesh that would allow high-ups to electrocute him on whim. It also made him hesitate, a very bad thing when surrounded by people who were there to kill him.

"It's not my fault!" Ren cried, before realizing they hadn't meant what they had said. Or maybe they did, but the purpose was simple; it distracted him. His focus wasn't on the gun in one of the survivor's hands, which was fired. Ren screamed as any child would when hurt as a bullet buried into his shoulder, clutching at the wound. All self-restraint leaving him in an instant, Ren made himself bite back the pain and dart forwards. One neck snapped, and the others were just killed however he felt like it in less than five minutes. Noting that he was breathing hard from the strain, Ren made himself walk back towards the camp rather then use the super-fast sprint he was used to. After fourteen years days of that, walking seemed so... slow. So very slow. Seeing the ragged structures of the escaped Crisis Soldiers' camp, Ren smiled faintly. Among them, as his far-batter-then-average eye sight could see, sitting limp in a chair was the boy he owed his escape to. Letting go of his wound, which had already mostly stopped bleeding, he walked up to Skye hesitantly. Skye had been very highly dosed with the drugs given to become a Crisis solider; being a hardened street-child they thought he would be able to endure it and therefor be able to be one of the best of them. However, Skye turned out to be incompatible, and he was left utterly unable to move even after two weeks. Ren knew he would recover eventually, but Skye couldn't speak or twitch, or even sit up on his own. Given how scrambled the drugs made his thoughts in the beginning, he doubted Skye was thinking much yet either.

"Hey Skye." Ren said warmly, kneeling down next to the limp boy as if he even noticed he was there, which Ren doubted. "I fought off more then twenty alone today. If I can do that... well, we'll be able to stop anyone who comes. Well be fine... I don't need you to protect me anymore. It's my turn, eh?" He spoke for a bit longer, ignoring that Skye couldn't respond and probably couldn't even hear him let alone make out the words. Finally standing and giving a cheery good-bye, Ren walked off to find someone else to talk to. That was all they could; talk and fight. The former was preferable, and Ren wanted to get his mind off the fact that he had more deaths to his name then probably anyone else his age.

[Aster]

Alle Cross, 15, Crisis-Soldier

Sleep evaded her. Perhaps it was the bumpy terrain beneath her - she had given up the sleeping bag she'd whisked away when she'd fled to an Unsuccessful - but most likely it was just that too many thoughts demanded her attention. She couldn't believe what had happened to her. Why did they pick me? she asked herself mentally for what seemed the thousandth time. She knew the answer, but still... Her life seemed to have turned into one long nightmare. Her lips parted in a small sigh as her eyelids flickered open and she moved into a sitting position. The surroundings that greeted her did nothing to improve her brooding mood - it was all bleak undergrowth and dark shadows.

Alle stretched carelessly, feeling tired and fed up with everything. It didn't help that loneliness gripped her. She'd never been that social, but she'd always had someone to talk to. Here, she and her fellow Crisis Fighters had nothing in common except for an enemy and those powers. She picked up a small rock idly, throwing it up and catching it a few times, her electric blue eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. Abruptly, her arm formed a half-arc - she released the stone and it flew through the air only to hit a tree far away. A grin smile turned the corners of her mouth upward. She couldn't deny her new strength wasn't cool, compared to when she'd been normal; if she'd thrown the rock then, the best she could have got it at was a few feet away.

The red-headed teenager easily made her way to her feet as the thought crossed her mind to go find someone to talk to, or something to do. She'd only gone a brief ways when she spotted the only other red head in camp - a boy of thirteen, named... She hesitated, searching her memory. She must have heard it at some point. Alle's forehead cleared where it had been creased as she remembered. "Ren," she muttered under her breath softly. She started to move towards him, but then paused again and looked down at herself. Her cloths were as messy as they could be. And her hair. Her hands shot up to her vibrantly colored curls as her thoughts turned to them. Just through the power of touch she could feel the knots, and the tangles.

Her skin was greasy, and smudges of dirt on the bare parts of her arms and legs made her want to itch. She frowned, but then shook her head in self disgust, letting her hands once again hang down by her sides. Appearance wasn't everything. Especially out here. She hesitated for a split-second longer, before crossing over to Ren with a smile on her face, calling in a light voice, "Hi!"

[Noel]

Ren was still in a light-mood, a false one meant to comfort himself but one nonetheless one, from having 'talked' with Skye. True the older boy who he viewed almost as a brother wasn't responding or even acknowledging that he had heard, but it was a small comfort that most of the other Crisis-fighters didn't have to have someone he knew there with him. It was a curse as well as a blessing of course; Ren knew somewhere deep within himself that being one of the escapes was a death sentence. He would die eventually, and Skye as well because of it. But when scared, his young mind refused to think about the grim sides of things. So, to him, it was a good thing Skye was there as well.

Hearing the smack of a rock hitting a tree, which when thrown by a Crisis solider sounded painfully similar to the noise a gun striking wood made, Ren instinctively darted a few feet to the side in case gunshots were being aimed at him. It was sad that so young a boy had the reflex ground into him in just two weeks. Realizing after a moment that it was just an unarmed girl, surely not that much older them him, Ren released the tension in his body slowly. It was hard to relax those days, what with all the fighting and ever looming thoughts of fear.

Watching as the girl felt at her hair, Ren almost rolled his eyes. She actually cared about her appearance, when they could be dead any day? Having been a street child all his life, Ren had never cared about how he looked, even before everything that had happened. Although, he admitted to himself, being splashed in blood from fighting off twenty by himself was a bit disgusting, along with the dirt and sweat of several days. He really would have to go jump into the nearby stream or something soon to get it all off. He smiled as well when the girl, his memory supplied her name a moment later to be 'Alle'. "Hi!" He called back, crossing the remaining distance between them, stopping a few feet away. "Anything new happen?"

[Aster]

Alle Cross, 15, Crisis-Soldier

Alle smiled, something that briefly lit up her face. She twisted a piece of her hair around one of her fingers absently as she shrugged, at the same time replying, in a half sarcastic tone, "No, not much, unless you count seeing a squirrel that didn't run away when it first saw me." She paused. The words sounded stupid aloud, but she moved her shoulders in another shrug. It didn't really matter. She used the temporary lull in the conversation to look around even further. When she'd first woken up, she hadn't been in her best space and been more grumpy than observant. She'd been there for a while - but, hey. Things change.

The only thing she saw that could be of interest to her, was the boy with the blonde ponytail a bit farther off. Sympathy stirred within her as she remembered that he was an Unsuccessful. Or at least she thought. A thoughtful frown tugged her lips down. She thought that she'd seen Ren talk to him several times, even though he never seemed to respond. In spite of her better judgement, she turned back to the other person with the intention of inquiring about the blonde-haired teenager.

"Do you know him?" she asked. Immediately, she sighed mentally. Yeah. She'd seen him talking to him before. Duh. Of course Ren knew him. A slight red flush darkened her cheeks as she continued, "I mean that boy over there. You know. The one with the ponytail, that looks like a girl. Er..." That could be taken offensively. She blushed again. "I mean, no offense," she said awkwardly. "It's really none of my business, anyway... I was just curious, so if you don't want to tell me that would be fine. I mean, seriously... If you don't want to tell me, that's..." She was babbling, she realized. She quieted, her cheeks reddening even more as she waited for his response.