The two sides of the camps coming together had been an awkward change for Shya. Mostly because she had just gotten use to walking the normal path. Not a lot had really changed, most of the layout of the camps was the same, but there were a few subtle differences she still found herself tripping up on, literally.

It was the evening and the warmth of the sun was fading now that the time was for dusk. Shya was just getting off of her assigned job. Her head was bowed and she was stiff. She shivered as she entered the shadow of the mess hall. Passing the brick wall. Amazing how fast the cold can form when the light is gone.

She lifted her head as she continued feeling the shadow of the building fall away from her. Warmed once again by the disappearing sun. If her memory served her correctly the combined barrack for the camp residence would be just a head.

From a window high up in one of the buildings that Shya had just past, Shahiel watched calmly as she traced her path that she walked almost everyday. She rarely deviated. Ever since she had helped take one of his victims away, he had been plotting, the stupid Grun had tried to rig some crude attempts on Grit’s life, but grit was smart, already he looked out for Amp like she was some sort of relative. “Weak” he thought, “So very very weak and pathetic.” Perhaps later.

Today however would be different. He moved swiftly to a new vantage point. He had made ‘preparations’. The ankle height wire that lay loosely level with the gravel path but would tighten instantly drawn tight by two small ‘one use only’ motors. With her height, she would fall right onto the concealed sharpened barbed stake that was time delayed to rise up at the exact moment she fell, it would puncture her throat, but not enough to cause massive bleeding. The wound would be fatal, but would not cause death instantly; as she fell she would feel his name scratched in the ground, before it was erased by her hands, a by-product of the flailing caused by the pain caused by the wounds and the slow acting poison on the stake.

His name was also chemically engraved on the stake so it would be felt by her fingers, but that too would be erased by blood, as she slowly and painfully died. As in the past there would be nothing concrete to point to him. And after Shya’s death, if it took his fancy he might deal with Grit, and then Amp would have no one to watch her back, oh that caring Michel might pose a problem, Oh yes, Shahiel had been watching him.

He sat and waited for Shya to reach the point, when she did he pressed the button and his mechanism whirred into place. He sat back to watch.

Shya continued her stroll, unaware of what was about to happen. Perhaps if her powers weren't being held back by her collar she would have at least fealt a warning, but unknown to her, she had made dangerous enimies.

Her foot caught midstep, refusing to move foreward with her weight, and something felt like it cut into her ankle. It gave her foot a cold feeling that traveled down, to her toes, before travelign up her leg. Instinctively her arms pushed forward to try to break her fall, protect her face. she caught herself an inch away from the ground, trying to breath, before the pain hit her from her throat. Her mouth worked trying to let out a noice. But air refused to come past the back of her mouth propperly, and the air that was forced out, made more of a hiss.

She rolled to her side, and off of her elbows, as her hands felt around her neck, finding the steak, and feeling the letters she felt under her palms in the ground. Unsure what to do, she tried to talk again. No sound would come out though beyond a hiss. Fighting the panic that was edging it's way into the pit fo her stomach, she found her cane with one hand. Instinct to find help was there. She tried to swollow, to move on with her cane, only to choke on shaky knees.

Shahiel savoured the moment, the wire tripping Shya, she catching herself but still taking the stake in the throat, trying unsuccessfully to pull it out, he could almost sense her confusion and pain. He saw her feeling the words on the stake, and then on the ground and in her pain, erase his name from the ground. He could almost laugh. Shahiel had a twisted mind, he savoured fear and pain and he had struck a mother lode.

He had chosen his post well, from atop this building he could see almost the whole camp, and more importantly he would not be seen as he followed poor little PATHETIC Shya as she stumbled on her little way towards her slow and painful death. No, it would not do to make a slip up in his triumph. He eagerly anticipated the reaction of others.

(OOC - Cheers for the heads-up Were. This is perfect - would it be okay to assume this happened just before the Gathering thread? Gives Fever even more reason for going all Scissor Sisters on the guards))

Mathew yawned, an jaw-splitting movement which made him feel like a snake when they dislocate to eat something nice. He was hiding behind a building, sitting in the dirt. The benefit of being young and small was that he wasn't easy to see, especially in the encroaching darkness. Sure, he'd seen the Stalkers... he vaguely wondered if they had the AI fitted to pick up slacking mutants. He hoped not - but even if they could, technically he wasn't slacking. He just couldn't be bothered to do anything which involved other people, which included eating and going back to his bunk. There was something about communal environments and the onset of night - when the barracks were lit with only the tiny bulb, and the outside was windy and cold, there seemed to be some kind of unspoken camaraderie between the inmates which Mathew found abhorrent.
He brought his knees in close to his body, wrapped his arms around them and tried to conserve heat. His hands were blistered and his muscles weak, from working all day at the graves, and his mind was just as weary.
His ears picked up movement and he froze, knowing he was safe in the darkness. His head slowly turned, his eyes preceding them - there was a figure walking in the distance. He couldn't see much, but he did spot the stick and that familiar, cautious yet confident gait.

Shya... ?

He wasn't really in the mood for social interaction, in fact he never was, so he didn't bother running over and offering to walk beside her. How lovely that would be... so sweet. However, he did watch her if only for the distinct lack of mental stimuli the camp actually offered. Right now, she was his equivalent to a set of tropical fish in a bowl.

He saw her trip, and he frowned. Lacking as he was in the compassion department, he did feel a jolt of pity. It wasn't morality altering, save-the-world pity - he supposed it was that she came across as so gracious and together, as if blindness were just a trivial thing not to be worried about. Still, there she was, tripping. Yes, that was it. That's what made him feel bad; in spite of her best efforts to not let it affect her, Fate still found it amusing that she should trip. He thought Fate had a sick sense of humour.
He frowned some more, his brows knitting together. She wasn't getting up. Some forgotten, deep, chivalrous side of him should have wanted to go help her... but it was just that, either forgotten or too deep to surface. Nevertheless, when he saw her seem to struggle his interest was piqued and he stood up slightly, trying to see exactly what was wrong with her.

What on earth is she doing?

Looking around, he cursed himself for a fool and slinked out of the darkness, making his way over. The night air was cold and unforgiving, even worse now that he had no shelter - still, he closer he got the more he saw her discomfort. H picked up he pace, already slightly worried but not willing to admit it to himself.

"Shya?" He asked sternly, as he approached.

Deathstar walked with a fast pace heading back to the barracks after a hard days work of grave digging. As she walked the thought of hope appeared, and cravings of freedom took over Deathstar's mind. She had to think of something and plan it quick, it wasn't like Deathstar to just sit back and be the victim. She walks with her hands folded behind her back, and her luminous red eyes gazing at blank point carefully storing escape ideas in her brain.

The guards marched cautiously beside Deathstar watching her every move, taunting and threatening her with their weapons trying to break her silence. Deathstar wasn't aware of her surroundings or the guards until she saw Shya at a distance, the woman Deathstar secretly wished she would become. Deathstar was never the type of person to give another living being credit or admiration, she felt it was a vulnerable weakness, and that didn't sit too well with Deathstar. She let out a soft exhale as she watched her blind friend Shya Struggle to get to her destination, but sudden Shya falls which was unusual for Deathstar to see, Shya has always been accurate with her steps. Deathstar made a detour heading in Shya's direction.

As Deathstar approaches Shya, she sees her struggling after falling and it was then that Deathstar knew something wasn't right, She went form walking to running, but she didn't go far because the guards grab both her arms holding her back. Deathstar pushed and shoved off the guards to get near Shya but to no avail, she was deadlocked in between their arms. Deathstar let out screams calling Shya's name that could heard all through out the camp, until her voice became hoarse. Deathstar watched as Shya turned over seeing nothing but blood all over Shya's trembling body and on the ground, by this time Deathstar was weak and her voice was reduced to a whimper. Deathstar continued her fight to break through the arms of the guards while reaching her hand out to Shya, She eventually fell to her knees Screaming out Shya's name "SHYA!", Deathstar was weak and out of breathe, but was determined to get to Shya and help her.

(Fever,if you want this before the Gathering thread with Sara that is fine. For sent reasons I was going to avoid adding Sara to this thread. I'll just make sure I definitely don't add her now. lol

To Hades. I know you don't want your character to be found out but I also have to play a little bit to Shya's abilities, a personality, so I'm leaving a puzzle. If you don't want to play it out that's fine.)


Shya wasn't breathing right. The stake stuck in her front, just between her collar bone and her collar for control made sure of that. What felt like from a far distance she could make out DeathStar yelling her name. There was a scuffle of feet and she sensed that all too familiar sound of a struggle.

Her chin lifted in that direction only to wince and be pulled back down with the change of the way her neck was, the stake found new areas to hurt. Even trying to swallow made her eyes water.

"Shya?"

There was a second familiar voice. Mathew right? Yeah him. Her mouth was working to try to talk but the weapon was blocking proper air flow. Her chest felt moist and sticky on the inside and she tried to stop herself from coughing. The action causing her face to wrinkle up, her eyes to scrunch. Different muscles pushed against the stake and the barbs caught on the sides of her wound as it was loosened.One hand held tight to the wound at her neck, as the barbs of the stake came loose. Her other hand held up, trying to get them to stop.

She knew her killer and she couldn't talk. She couldn't warn them. He must be watching. Her collar buzzed a warning with that thought as she suddenly knew it was true. Making her suck in more air. More sticky moisture. In the next few seconds her thoughts were random. She tried to push the impression of what she felt on her fingers to the other campers around her the way the man's name felt in the ground and on the stake. Her collar gave her another buzz with the image she had pulled from Amp's memory of a figure in the dark, and she was forced to stop for now.

(OOC - hey Hades, Were and I weren't sure whether I should post or not, straight after Deathstar; if you'd prefer to have an posting order, just let me know ;D)

Mathew ground to a halt, unsure of what to do. The appearance of Deastar and the two guards had unsettled him - he was like a cat, unsure of whether to bolt or stand his ground. There were bound to be more guards soon.
Confused, he looked down at Shya, trying to forget Deathstar's screams and drown them out. He took a tentative step forward, his head stiff on his neck, and he looked down.
His eyes grew wide and he fell back slightly, horrified. He looked up at Deathstar and back at Shya, his mouth working but no sound coming out. He looked back at the guards, half expecting them let Deathstar go so he didn't have to deal with this. He couldn't handle it. He didn't know what was going on, but she was obviously dying. He just wanted to run back to the shadowy corner of that building and hide again.
He looked around, praying to God that someone would take his place. He couldn't do this!
Looking back down at Shya, he resisted the urge to ask her if she was okay. He took a ginger step forward and crouched down, his hands terrified and not entirely sure of where to go or what to do. He didn't even know this woman.
Pathetically, he returned his gaze to Deathstar. He wanted her to tell him he was doing this right, he wanted to be told what to do... he wanted the guards to let her go!! Then he could run away and have nothing to do with this.

"Get away from her, inmate!" One of the guards screamed at him, but making no effort to move forward. Deathstar, it seemed, was more than enough to warrant their full attention. He paid no attention to him, but rather reached out a reluctant hand and patted her shoulder, as it would do any good. He really didn't know what else to do.
He reached a hand towards her neck, not touching her but hovering just above. He grimaced, his hand shaking - what was the point?? What did he know about bleeding? He looked back at Deathstar helplessly and mouted, "What do I do?"
He realised that adrenaline was rushing about his system like a dose of super-coffee. He was shaking a little, feeling more vulnerable now that even when Jeminai had tricked him and made him mop the floor.
Looking down at her pathetic form, struggling, clinging to the last vestiges of life... it made him crack. He caught her fearful eyes - though they couldn't see him, he could see them, and it made him sick.
His lip started to quiver and he looked back, once more, at the struggling Deathstar, then at the guards. At the moment he didn't care where help came from, as long as it came.
But for the time being, it looked like it was down to him. He couldn't let her die alone... he didn't know any first aid, no medical lingo, no experience. What did you do with dying people?
Mind racing, feeling like a bulldog put out to round up sheep, he reached down and grasped her hand tightly. He shook his head and commanded the unecessary waterworks away. That was ridiculous. He clenched his teeth and held her hand fiercely, as if doing so would anchor her to wellbeing.
There was still a chance she could be okay... slim, but a chance. He just needed someone, anyone, to show up and take away this responsibility from him.

"I-it's okay," he said nervously, still gripping her hand, "I'm here. It's Mathew, from the gra- um, from work. You remember me, Shya? Little Mat? I'm here with you. It's okay... I'm here." Towards the end of his speech he recovered some semblance of control over his voice, using his skill in altering his tone to make it more compassionate, more calm. For God's sake, what the fuck was wrong with her??

Michael heard Deathstar's screams and came running. At first he didn't see Shya, just Deathstart struggling in the guards' grips. He moved forward to help her and Shya came into sight. The sight of her lying there on the floor, gasping for breath with a piece of wood lodged in her through froze him in his tracks.

All thought of helping Deathstar was abandoned as he rushed over to Shya's side. There was someone else with her, Matthew he thought his name was. He'd seen the guy around once or twice, but not had a chance to interact with him much. "Shya, it'll be alright," he said, putting all the confidence he couldn't feel into those words.

Turning to the guards he yelled, "She's dying over here! Let Deathstar go and go and get Gwen!" When they didn't budge he yelled, "I'll take full responsibility for here, just go get Gwen!" Rather than wait to see if they responded he turned to Matthew he said, "Name's Matthew right? Listen, I need you to tell me exactly what happened here."

Grit was on the other side of the camp at this time, he heard screams drifting across the camp, it sounded scarily like Shya’s. He was turning to ask someone what was happening over the radio, then he caught Grunt smirking looking at his cell phone. He drifted over a casually read the text over his shoulder. What he saw sent a chill up his spine.

The text message ran thus “It is done, only the guard remains.”
Grit recognized that number as one that all the guards who had mobiles and were non mutants knew. It was one of three emergency numbers, there was Falk’s number, Shahiel’s number, and the Warden’s number. The text was from Shahiel.

Grunt quickly deleted the text. Erasing all traces of it.

Grit dropped what he was doing and started running, he started running like his life depended upon it. After his father died, and his little sister died in a tragic accident, the only family he had was his mother in hospital with cancer, and there was not much for her either. His dad had once told him that a person was responsible for those that they rescued. After the whole rape incident, he had come to look upon Amp and Shya as his little sister, well Shya definitely… He cared for them both deeply, Shya may have picked that up, and they often had long talks. As for Amp, what with her being a rape victim would loathe males, so he kept to the shadows but he made sure she was well taken care of.

All this flashed through his mind as he raced across the camps, clearing obstacles like hurdles he ran, hoping against hope that for once Shahiel had messed up. He channelled all that fear and anger into energy and pushed his body to the limit.

Haddix had just finished washing up after an afternoon of grave digging, and saw the crowd gathered on the sidewalk. He cracked his neck and walked over casually, seeing a few of the people he'd worked with that afternoon. "Say, what--Holy shit!" He looked at the blind girl, stake jutting out of her neck, tripwire tangled around her feet. Slowly the scene was unfolding around him. He saw Deathstar screaming, being held by guards, saw Matthew and another mutant trying their damnedest to help Shya stay alive. He hated himself for it, but sometimes it's hard to connect the dots when you've been awake for 19 years. "How can I help?" he said to the two who were nearest to the girl. Haddix saw how the stake was sitting. It reminded him of one of his first fights, a bare knuckle match that his opponent had no chance in. The Pit Bull had struck the kid in the neck in a similar fashion, and the kid had bled out in a matter of minutes.

"Whatever you do, don't pull the stake out!"

"Not gonna," Michael answered the guy who'd just come over, "She needs a doctor. Can you get to the infirmary, get Gwen. Tell her what's happened." Michael had his hands around the stake, trying to stem the bleeding, but it was doing little good. This was bad, really bad.

"It's gonna be alright Shya," he said, offering her the best smile he could, "Help will be here soon."

The guards released Deathstar forcefully pushing her into ground, the impact her her body received as she fell onto the ground knocked the wind out of her lungs. While on the ground Deathstar lifts her head slowly with the little energy that she had, Standing onto her feet shaking and breathing deeply she followed Pitbull to find Gwen, and get Shya the help she needs.

Shya was thankful for them to be there. All of them Her strength, or whatever she had left, was from them. Their want to help her and the fact someone was there at all. If she were alone,… She suddenly pushed that thought from her mind. The truth was she wasn’t along and she trusted that she wouldn’t be, even when things were said and done. When she was better. She would feel better. At the same time she secretly wished her friends would stop talking to her in the voices she could hear, telling her things were going to be ok. It bothered her how much those words were repeated in the last thirty seconds and she didn’t feel they believed their own words. She didn’t have to be the psychic she was to figure that out.

She heart Haddix in the back ground. His request to keep the stake in her and use it to stop the blood flow. The light skin on her face instantly pulled tight as she suddenly felt Michel’s fingers around the stake. Keeping the blood on the inside of her skin, but unable to keep it from making her lungs damp and stick. She stiffened as she coughed again, feeling every one of those barbs on the inside.

Any color that was left was draining faster from her, already light, cheeks. She was getting numb and her awareness was slipping from being fully aware of everything, despite the lake of the way everything looked, to only able to focus on the sense of touch as she heard the struggle involving DeathStar’s voice die down, and there were foot steps leading away from her. She knew someone was there. Someone was helping her with her wound, something was behind her head. The ground? Grass? A hand? She didn’t exactly focus there. Her head was lighter, and though she knew she physically couldn’t, she was starting to feel like she should be throwing up. Another sense came to her at her hand. Someone had her hand, squeezing her fingers, and she squeezed back. Holding on as if gravity might turn upside down and that connection with that hand would be all that would keep her grounded.

Her breathing became shorter bursts, with shallower lung fulls. Her other hand reached up to the back of Michel’s to get his attention. Couldn’t she warn him? She was being killed, she knew who, and she couldn’t speak to tell anyone. Not even through her mind, thanks to the collars. Not without getting shocked again. Could she stand another shock?

Her pulse suddenly quickened against a lower pressure. Making her problems faster. She had to try to tell. If not for herself for them. There was a killer and they had to know who it was. So she tried to mouth the name she read in the stake and the ground.

Please let it work.

(Even though this has been the plan for a while with Shya, Thank you guys. This is a hard page to write. You guys really rock.)

Haddix sprinted towards the infirmary, not noticing the anyone who followed him. There was a major problem here. Someone had deliberately set up what had just happened, that much he was sure of. It was too convenient to be an accident. He didn't know what motive anyone would have to kill the poor girl, but that didn't matter right now; what mattered was saving her.

(Continued in The infirmary)