The alarm at Wicked Wings blared six times—the piercing sound echoing through the whole building.
Quill, who was in a training session with Arc and Crescent on the second floor, paused mid-motion, their breathing heavy and clothes damp with sweat. All three of them instinctively checked their phones. The alerts confirmed it: three other cases were already being handled, and the remaining three were up to them.
"Six?" Crescent looked at Arc, her eyebrows furrowing.
"That includes us," Arc replied, panting from the intensity of the spar.
Quill stood up and ticked one of the cases on his phone to take it. He opened it and quickly scanned the address. His face paled.
"Sh—" Quill caught himself, covering his mouth to prevent the curse.
Crescent noticed his reaction. "What's wrong?" she asked, voice laced with concern.
Quill shook his head, turning off his phone. "Nothing. Grab your things."
The three of them hurriedly changed and grabbed their black jackets, fabric rustling as they bolted toward the exit.
"Shoot, we would have to commute," Quill muttered, clicking his tongue.
"How about Roy's car?" Crescent suggested while they dashed down the stairs. "It's parked out."
"I can't drive."
"WHAT?!" Crescent exclaimed, almost tripping over her last step.
"Don't say anything and let's just go."
As they burst through the door, they were greeted by the flashing lights of a police car. Bryan was behind the wheel, leaning out of the driver's seat window.
"Everybody get in!" he shouted, his sharp voice cutting through.
Without hesitation, they piled into the car, the door slamming shut. Bryan sped off as the siren wailed through the streets.
"Pierrot initially said it was okay for you guys not to come, but we needed more hands!" Bryan shouted, despite the stillness inside.
"I can hear you just fine!" Quill shouted back, making Bryan smile apologetically.
Crescent leaned forward from the backseat. "What if we can't handle them?"
"Don't worry about that. You will only have to assist; we haven't covered the sealing, so..." Quill looked into the rearview mirror to direct the statement to Arc, "...don't do anything dangerous."
They met eyes in the mirror, and Arc nodded.
"Follow the senior's orders." He released a deep breath. "That's all you have to do."
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Fate is a peculiar thing. Often are its actions seen as meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Other times, it leads you to a newfound family. Yet, other times, it brings you back to your old one... in an awfully familiar shopping mall.
Quill stood by the entrance of the mall, frozen.
The evacuation was ongoing, patrols and responders were already on the job. The panicked public surged through the exits, guided by officers trying to maintain order amid the chaos.
"Quill!" Crescent's voice broke through his reverie as they waited for him beyond the doors.
He shook himself from his thoughts and ran to join them, pulling on a hat and a mask as he entered.
"Why a mask?" asked Arc.
"Just because," Quill responded. "Let's go."
"They're in the department store," Bryan turned in its direction. "This way!"
The four navigated through the mob of people, weaving their way toward the department store. As they ran, Quill's phone rang with an incoming call. He answered without slowing his pace.
"Roy?"
"Where are you?" Roy's voice crackled through the line.
"We just arrived, we'll go to you right now."
"No, 2nd floor, go to Pierrot."
"Copy that."
They bolted up the escalator, metallic sounds clanking below the hurried footsteps. Quill led the way, his mind racing as they ascended, Crescent, Arc, and Bryan following close behind.
The familiar surroundings made Quill nauseous. The mask made it worse. He paused and leaned against a wall, needing a break from the run, and removed the mask, his throat dry.
"You okay?" Bryan asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Looking around as if checking for something, he pulled his baseball hat tighter.
Quill chuckled. "Are you dumb? Why would anyone be here? It's infested with demons," he muttered to himself.
Taking a deep breath, he stood straight and discarded his mask and cap completely. "Let's go."
As they arrived, they saw Pierrot in the midst of fighting three possessed individuals, and they immediately took their white forms.
The scene was chaotic: Pierrot, in his form, moved with precision and speed faster than Bryan's eyes could follow. He dodged and struck with ease, seemingly everywhere at once.
"Crescent," Quill called, and she moved closer. "You're on the right one, the female."
"Arc, you and I will handle the worker. Let's leave the fast teenager to Pierrot."
The team spread out, and Quill shouted, "Remember to only restrain!"
Bryan was left alone. "What about me?!"
"Assist the evacuation!" Quill added, his voice echoing through the store.
Arc and Quill moved in on the possessed department store worker, still in a white vest uniform, who was swinging a broken metal stand. It understood it was a weapon, yet could not speak. Quill motioned for Arc to go left while he took right.
When the worker demon noticed it was surrounded, it swung the metal rod at Arc. He ducked in time, rolling to the side and coming up with a swift kick to the rod, flicking it off of its hands.
It screeched. Loud and jarring. It pulled at its hair and kept pulling on them, as more black blood oozed from its face. It stomped its feet like an adult throwing a tantrum, causing the floor to move and vibrate.
The other two demons in the room followed with their wails. Black blood and mucus mixed in their contorted adult faces, acting like children robbed of their candies.
Arc took the opportunity to restrain its hands for Quill to seal it. He moved closer to tackle it from behind, but the demon suddenly inflated.
Its body expanded grotesquely.
It ballooned. Bones cracked, its limbs twisted at unnatural angles, detached. Elbows and knees bending in ways they were never meant to. The skin stretched, muscles bulged, bloated, bigger. Veins pulsed, dark in color, weaving black streaks and webs.
Pierrot noticed Arc from behind the demon, stunned at the thing before him.
"ARC! MOVE BACK!"