SACRED TEARS CHURCH – BELLTOWER – Status: Abandoned

The Sacred Tears Church was the sign for many religious beginnings and endings. It was the sight of weddings, of baptisms, and of funerals, a place where people come to for comfort and a sense of understanding of a veiled world that they could only pray existed beyond themselves. But for as holy and sacred as this land was, not all who occupied the shadowy corner found salvation here. No, for others it was merely another shadowy alcove where plans of the future could be hatched and where mankind would eventually meet its end.

High in the bell tower, a section of the building that hasn’t rung in years, it looked fairly abandoned. Webbing and dust collected against every corner of the structure, debris from rotted roof tiles and the carcasses of animals long since dead lay everywhere. It was the kind of place that never should have been allowed to grow decrepit, simply for the horrid visions that would take root. One of those visions snipped and snapped through the darkness, a slow, methodic breath escaping from highly evolved lungs. This was not the den of god but the dwelling of a monster.

The sight of insects in this building was not something new but the they seemed to crawl upon the interior in surprising numbers. Moving along the walls, climbing over broken pews, and through whatever holes and gaps in the walls there were. There was a homeless man who lived here, a vagrant who would scare off locals by wielding a small handax that he had found in a dumpster on 6th and Way. Hatchet Jim, he was nicknamed. Hatchet Jim made the mistake of not leaving this place when the insects first appeared last night, and further more threatened the entity that slunk through the darkness. Now Jim was in an even worse condition.

In the abandoned and rusted belltower, Jim startled away with a gasp. Shakily he looked around, his addled mind struggling to comprehend why he was so groggy and why he couldn’t move. It wasn’t until he looked down that he noticed the strange material, like a kind to thick, sugary saliva that had hardened around his wrists and his midsection. He struggled for a few moments before he began to shriek. However, his voice quieted where there was the sound of footsteps ushering closer.

”We understand…” The voice buzzed as it echoed from the dark. Hatchet Jim turned, eyes wide with panic. The voice continued. ”Soft. Weak. You fear death.” The raspy, femme fatale voice continued, the footsteps getting louder. Jim tried to turned his head more but the sticky, hardened wax kept him pointed forward. ”But take solace in this fact…”

Jim shuddered. He could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck due to the presence of another far too close to him. The pause and silence were heavy, weight down on him like a brick until he jumped, feeling a hand caress his shoulder. Meekly he turned, eyeing the yellow hand covered in a thick carapace. The long, sharpened nails dug into his skin, causing him to cry out weakly before retracting. Another raspy intake of breath and Hatchet Jim turned away, but into the gaze of a terrifying, insectoid horror of a woman.

Her black, compound eyes looked directly into his. Her armor plated head look strong enough to take a hatchet. And when she spoke, rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth were revealed. But as for now, it stretched into a grin. ”…your body shall feed the Legion!” She opened her mouth. The last that Hatchet Jim would see was the swarm of insects flying from an expanded, disjointed jaw, and a thunderous buzzing that would drown out his screams.

Though the feasting insects hurriedly churned mandibles and appendages through the soured, pink flesh of their dinner, their excited buzzing was slowly quieted in the echo of distant thunder. Hatchet Jim’s screams perished with him as the legion drowned in food and the bell tower was consumed in the building storm. Overcast skies became angry, fiercely gray clouds that swallowed the sun to blanket the once joyous church in a warning darkness.

Between sunshine and midnight was the storm, punctuated by lightning but not yet. Tempest held the crash of conflicting currents, warring fronts at bay. The wind built and rain began to slowly fall, much like the slowly streaking tears from sweet Jim’s face until the eyes too were no more. Devon knew not of the man, but he did know Agnes was in need. He’d gotten the call from Sveltana, made quick his preparations, and left to find the new Agnes.

Tempest hadn’t waited long before acquiring a uniform for himself. Lightweight, level II PPE fabrics were fashioned into the inner layers of black cloth and nylon pants, shirt, and jacket. He was certain to have a compartment for a hood and face mask should it be required, much like an athletic set and where he’d gotten the inspiration. Haven resources, including the membership and staff, had made it possible. He wore it now; Agnes seemed threatening. Protection before convincing was wise.

Slow, deliberate steps brought him up the broken steps into the lobby of the church. Between rumbles above he heard the skittering. His blue eyes caught the body light he wore affixed to his jacket, illuminating his presence and forward direction. A small wave of beetles ran for the darkness in the crack of a confessional door. No doubt there were more in between pews, hiding around weathered window frames, and brooding under torn, stained tapestry.

“Agnes,” Tempest shouted as he cracked a luminous off-blue stick and tossed it to the ground with a small, wafer-like tablet. It smoked slightly, like dry ice brought out onto a warm serving dish. The faint scent was unpleasant but not terrible, at least for a person. It would keep the insects away from the industrial glow stick. “This is Devon. I heard you have a full swarm to protect and feed now.”

Ahead he went, his eyes to the door that led to the crumbling stair for the upper levels. Where else would a Queen build her nest? He’d learned of the old church and the strange sounds quickly through his network of contacts developed at Sanctuary. Some massive insect skittering through the shadows with an entire swarm of insectoid followers was difficult to disappear from all the city’s watchful eyes. They didn’t need to hide; they needed to come home. This change would not take Agnes; she needed help as they all once did with control. Devon trusted the swarm would listen to Agnes if she listened to him, and if not…

Well, then mommy and mommy’s friend were going to fight.

The swarm fed well. Though Mr. Hatchet Jim had put up quite the fight, his thrashing and crying and biting had only lessened the legion by the smallest and most insignificant of numbers. Though it was tragic to lose any insect blood, the truth was that this was a game of evolution. Only the strongest survived and only they should be allowed to feed – it was for the greater good of the swarm. With the best in their ranks, it would ensure that the swarm would live, it would thrive, and it would survive to fight another day. It was all about perfection when it came to insects, especially with the Brood Mother.

Nestled safely in a corner of the bell tower, the insect queen moved about her small nest, her dislocated jaw opening wide and spitting out globs upon globs of a sticky, mucus-like substance. She lined the walls with the material, using her sharpened appendage to reach out and smooth it along the walls. Soon the rest of her insects, workers, were climbing across it, slowly helping to craft it into waxy cells, each one small but connected to the others. This would be merely the beginning of the hive. These would be used for storage of eggs, food, and other necessities her workers would need. Already tiny bits and pieces of the fallen transient were being carried away and sealed off for future consumption. This would make an excellent home.

Turning her head, the once timid violinist with her monstrous appearance moved to another corner of the bell tower and started to repeat the same process as before. She knew that she had done this in the nick of time. From a crack which ran along the darkened wall, she smell the wetness as it grew in the air. Spilling down across the city, she shuddered at the idea of the rain outside. A few drops would leak into this place but nothing that couldn’t he lived with – at least until she were able to more permanently seal it off. In the meantime, her swarm had strict orders to continue avoiding the water and maintain the hive for future generations. It was her will that they thrive.

Thick, pointed legs dug into the weakened wood of the bell tower as Agnes moved about, moving from location to location, checking in on her insects and issuing out more orders. More and more of her legions were joining the scene, skittering in from the outside attempts to both escape the weather and to lay compound eyes upon the tall, beauteous queen. Agnes greeted them all, her body giving off pheromones that immediately ensnared the insides so utterly that they had almost no will of their own. But it wasn’t as if they cared – they were part of the family now.

But, just as Agnes spewed another waxy ball into the rafters, trying to seal off a gash in the ceiling, she paused when the chittering began to grow louder in her ear. Reports. She was getting reports from her swarm that there was another intruder in her domain, another tasty morsel to add to their already generous larder. A sickening grin twisted the insect goddess features as she climbed out of the cracked bell tower and started her descent down into the main recesses of the building. It was only as she started to crawl through the large, echoing chamber did she catch the vibrations in the air of someone talking.

>> “Agnes…This is Devon. I heard you have a full swarm to protect and feed now.”

Climbing into a dark crevice, the brood mother paused for a moment, the familiarity of the voice causing her pangs of pain that ricocheted in her head. Snarling through her sharpened teeth, she scratched her claws across the crumbling brick wall and skittered again, taking to the ceiling as she moved with all the ease of a normal sized insect. A thick appendage jabbed into a rafter high above as she crawled over and on top of it. From there she edged herself closer to a position that was far above the darkly dressed, black-haired young man. She tilted her head curiously before another migraine cut through her head like a knife.

Another hiss and she crawled to another beam, muttering nonsense to herself. Devon was so far below that he may hear only the vaguest sounds of a voice, but none of the words, at least not until she raised her voice. A disparaging hiss of annoyance flew from her as something like recognition bubbled up n the back of her near. She growled and snapped at the air, crawling far above and keeping her distance.

”You come to us alone…” she growled in a confused voice. ”You know of us and still you come alone. Why?” Silence for a second before the animalistic, monstrous voice continued. ”You must want to give yourself to the legion. Feed and warm our present numbers and those of the future.” A pause. ”You want us to end you? You…sacrifice?” A raspy laugh filled the air as the insect queen moved yet another, skittering to another shadow but more moving lowering, drawing closer to the ground level where Devon stood. But as the mutant drew closer, familiarity would break briefly through the din. ”Devon?” she asked in an exceeding small voice. ”I-Is…that…you?”

“Yes, Agnes,” Devon replied loudly. “It’s me.”

He threw down another of the industrial glow sticks there at his feet with a crack and another packet of the insect repellent. Meanwhile his blue eyes scanned the rafters above. He’d heard the creaking movements above and paused, watching the walls and then up above. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to climb any dangerous stairs after all.

There was chittering and hissing, insects moving and their mother talking no doubt. He couldn’t tell what she said, but the tones of the sounds and the growls spoke of frustration. No one liked uninvited guests. The key here was reminding Agnes that he wasn’t a guest; he was family too.

“I am not food. I’m not a sacrifice,” he said firmly, remembering the echoing laughter of the queen above. It was still difficult to pick her out in the darkness, but the flickering shadows still birthed a greater one amongst their forms. It moved closer, and the sound of her laughter had assured Devon of that. Now, after his clarifying statement he moved to keep the woman he called friend at an angle away from him other than 90 degrees.

“You’ve grown and your family has grown, but I need you to remember you have other family. You and your…” he paused, remembering the word she’d used. It wasn’t swarm. “Your legion. You are not alone. You have a family in Haven that needs you, Agnes, to come home. We will find a safer place for the legion than here, but you have to focus your control.”

Both hands went out, tossing more of the glow sticks and the repellent packets. But now, that blue light reflected not in azure pools but in the twin portals to the abyss below Devon’s brow. Lightning flashed in the sky outside and a loud, reverberating peel of thunder rocked the church. The rain came harder as the light flickered through the broken windows and cracked walls of the building. Devon’s focus remained on his friend, but his eyes widened at the size. Absent of detail, he could still tell her power had grown her into something insectoid and large.

“Remember whom you truly are. Do not abandon Agnes. You have two families to watch now; do not abandon yours in Haven.”

The wind howled eagerly through the bell tower above.

It was only a moment. The briefest of times where Agnes felt her true consciousness break through. She sniffed at the air, momentarily confused at everything she was looking at, but even as she did, she could feel the darkness swelling up inside of her. The primal urges of her insectoid mind, urged her to return to her state, fearful of more reprisal from this strange world. It was a dog eat dog world, wasn’t it? That meant she needed to be on guard. She had almost been killed, after all.

Still…she was curiously. Remaining in the shadows, she moved a bit closer, her appendages driving into the rotting wood and easily supposed her weight as she crept lower, her talon-like nails dragging across the crumbling plaster. It was she began to descend and called out to the man by name that she finally earned a response.

>> “Yes, Agnes…It’s me.”

She tilted her head. She knew this man. She knew him from…somewhere. It was hard to concentration from the many, many voices of the legion who chattered on in her ear. They all were suspicious of this man and the light and smells that he carried with him. They warned her, cried out in unison for their mother to protect them. Protecting the swarm was far more important than a single human who she somewhat recognized…right?

Another primal surge of thought and she inquired if he came to honor her? To give himself over as a sacrifice to the legion. He was another meaty mouthful and he could definitely substance her numbers for a bit. However, he seemed to have other thoughts.

>> “I am not food. I’m not a sacrifice,”

She hissed at his impudence. To speak to her in such a manner was an affront. Her wings beat agitatedly but she didn’t take to the sky. Instead she kept crawling lower and lower, down the side of a wall and avoided the glow of those accursed lights he had strewn about her domain (another show of insolence). The worst still was that the lower she got, the harsher the scent whatever it was he was tossing out onto the ground. Her swarm had attempted to close ranks around him but were immediately deterred thanks to the repellent he used.

They cried in frustration in her ears and she was hard-pressed to not end him there for bringing such a thing into her realm. But something stayed her hand. Something kept her from immediately pouncing and slicing him up for her hive to feast upon.

>> “You’ve grown and your family has grown, but I need you to remember you have other family. You and your…Your legion. You are not alone. You have a family in Haven that needs you, Agnes, to come home. We will find a safer place for the legion than here, but you have to focus your control…Remember whom you truly are. Do not abandon Agnes. You have two families to watch now; do not abandon yours in Haven.”

A deepened hiss fell from her lips. She could feel the pull inside of her mind, the shattering of two separate thoughts trying to fight for control. They wanted to both strike him down and spare him the horrific fate that had befallen Hatchet Jim. So confusing and split was the mutant’s mind that she made a most surprisingly move.

There was a growl from the walls and suddenly a rush of air. Pushing herself off the side of the wall, Agnes fell into the darkness just in front of the intruder. Pews crashed and fell over thanks to the sudden weight. Barbs drive straight into the crumbling masonry, the carapace covered nightmare that had become of Agnes Nicholas slowly lifted from the kicked up clouds of dust and debris. Two limbs dug deep and lifted her whole two more arched dangerously from behind her back, poised to lash out at the smallest provocation.

Lifted up, Agnes stood in a stray beam of light filtered through the cracked roof thanks to crashing of lightning. Covered from head-to-toe in a black and yellow carapace, the woman’s once sapphire eyes had become dead black, but contained thousands of lenses for multiple views and angles. Opening her mouth, it expanded wider and split at an unseen seam into mandibles, each filled rows upon rows of teeth. Iridescent wings beat dangerously upon her back, a clearly sign of her irritated at the obnoxious scent Devon had tossed into her home. She skittered around him, tossing aside pews as if they were made of cardboard, circling but not finding any opening that didn’t repel her.

She hissed once more, returning to his gaze. ”We are never alone! And we certainly do not need you!” The insect queen loomed to her full height, staring down at the human. There was a brief shudder. Recognition filled her eyes as she stared at Devon but just as quickly as it had appeared, it was suppressed again. ”Leave…or you shall feed us. Willingly…or not.”

It would be her only warning.

((OOC: Music to read by. ))


The growl echoed the howling wind outside and Tempest did not stir. The Queen landed with a crash, the seats of the pious long since abandoned, broken by her weight. Stone older than any city resident crumbled at her touch, sending dust out through the room. Only then was the softly shifting breezes swirling around Tempest revealed, the dirt and debris scattering and dancing around him.

Then too did Agnes reveal herself, lightning illuminating her form and Devon pulling back his head in sudden pause. She was a massive insectoid beast. Her body was abdomen and thorax of wasping black and yellow. Her eyes shone like the myriad faceted obsidian. Her mouth was a great white shark of teeth. The wings were wicked and beautiful like a dangerous fey lord, come to steal him away for feasting. She was a monster, yes, but a mutant with few peers. In that there was true beauty.

She thrashed about in the perimeter around him, knocking still more pews through the air. The repellent and lights did their job, attracting the eyes but displeasing to the nose. She stopped and they shared a gaze equal in darkness. At her full height Devon felt no need to posture similarly. Instead he lowered his chin and canted his head, brow narrowing.

>> ”Leave…or you shall feed us. Willingly…or not.”

Enough. Tempest tapped at a pocket. Sound echoed from him and throughout the church as speakers well positioned from his envoy outside sang with Bach’s Partita No. 2. Each jagged chord was a dramatic pang of power that Tempest relished as the swirling breezes around him became an encircling chorus of gusts. They spun about him as the broken pews tumbled about the once pious chamber. The repellent from so many dropped tablets spread about them. Tempest jumped backwards, anticipating a forward attack by the Queen.

Bach’s violin solo was drawn with humble ease from sharp beginnings to an excited melody. Lightning flashed with increasing tempo and veracity but the thunder was drowned out by the overwhelming subsequent joy of building intensity. It was emotion in sonic form and Tempest thrilled to hear it exalted once more even as he relied on the winds to aid his dodging still.

There was little better to listen to than Agnes Nicholas’s solo at the Unity of Arts concert where Haven’s members, New York society, and many fine charitable organizers had come together in welcome celebration of respect, generosity, and unity.

Tempest trusted there was little better to reach a mother buried under the voices of her children.

Agnes was running on pure, primal instinct now. Looming above the intruder, her spindly appendages holding her up, the carapace covered goddess moved with ease around the man, hissing and trying to find a weak spot to prepare for an assault. However, at every turn she was met with that accursed repellent and burning aura of the lights. While most of her brood were sent scurrying away into the protective darkness, Agnes herself only continued to feel spurred on by anger at the man’s insolence. She had offered him clemency once, but no longer.

The ultimatum was uttered; leave or die. A part of her insect-like brain didn’t understand the choice she had offered him as clearly he was an agitating factor that needed to be ended, But rather than continue to fight with herself, she left her statement to hang in the air. Glaring daggers at the man, she waited for him to turn, fighting every voice screaming in her head for her to end his life and feed his corpse to the swarm. She was a goddess of her word and if she was going to give him a final chance to leave, then they would say nothing of it.

A hard twitch and Agnes bared her serrated teeth as the smell began to grow more noxious. Thunder crashed on the outside of the dilapidated building and the flash of lightning made her appearance all the more awe-inspiring and terrifying. As she continued to eye the man, two off her spined appendage lay arched over her shoulders, coiled back and ready to snap towards whatever target she aimed them at; in this case it was Devon himself. She was serious with her warning – it would be the only that he got.

However, it seemed that the man wouldn’t take up her kind offer. As she stood there, poised and dangerous, there was a sudden sound that filled the air. It was alien to her, screeching like an animal dying, but as it grew into a cacophony that echoed in the chambers around, it soon took on a more familiar tone…it was music. However, this wasn’t just any music, this was music that Agnes knew deep down in the pit of her heart.

She hissed initially at the sound. As the music twirled and spun around her, forming a drill that began to began to dig deep into the base of her skull. Angrily she turned her compound eyes onto the intruder and started towards him, lashing out with her spined appendages. But before she got too close, there was a gust of wind, then another, and another. Her wings beat furiously on her back as her second set of limbs dug deeper into the concrete to hold her in place. But the wind was the least of her problems, the worst was that upon those gusts they carried the very scent that repelled her before.

Hiiiiiiiiissssss!!! The insect queen was livid. She snarled at the man but the strong scent in the air repelled her, causing her to recoil back a step or two. However, unlike her minions, she didn’t scurry into a dark corner to hide, but rather kept circling, probing, trying to find an entrance again. She was agitated to the point where he wasn’t going to simply be allowed to walk out of here now, no matter how much he may beg. He made his bed.

But aside from the disturbing center and the gusts of wind, Agnes was thoroughly distracted in another manner – the music. It played loud, through hidden speakers that lay about her home. It should have been ignored, but she just couldn’t. The stretched sounds dug deeper than any needle could and she found herself stopping when she didn’t mean to, buffets by debris picked up in the gusts, and snarling and snapping at the open air. It was as if she were trying to pluck the very notes from the sky; those notes and the accursed images they carried.

A girl. Thin. Pale skinned. Crystalline blue eyes. She was on a stage, dressed in her finest. She played along with the music in her funny little wooden instrument…no…she produced the music! The thoughts invaded Agnes head, causing her to snap and growl but they were too hard to ignore. They bore deeper, finding connections in her own primal mind, connections that made her heart beat a little faster and her panic rise in her chest. This was wrong! Something was wrong. Who was this person she saw and why did she smile so when she played the screeching music!

Another hiss and Agnes lashed out, driving a pointed appendage straight towards Devon, trying to avoid his aura of stench. But just as she did so, she growled, her eyes closing hard as the violinist pulled her bow in quick succession across the strings, making notes that traveled up and down the scale. It was so happy, so pleased, and so full of passion. The insect queen missed Devon, piercing through a broken pew which she hurled off to the side. Frantic, terrified, and angry, the beast fell into a kind of tantrum as he skittered away from Devon, smashing fallen pews, tipping over stone pedestals, and smashing racks that forgotten wax candles.

”Stooooooopppp!!!” she hissed, lashing out and cleared a nearby altar. ”STTTTTTOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!” The music only continued to dig deeper and, for the briefest of moments, the beast stopped, looked around with a confused expression, before eyes settled onto Devon. She gulped, staring at the man, lips parted as she tried to squeak out something, anything with her own voice while she had it. ”Devon? P-Please….” she whispered. ”I…I can’t..hold her…for long…” she stood, shakily, falling against aa pillar and knocking it over thanks to her far heavier form. ”Go…b-before…before…she…”

The expression faded and the same hate and savage look that had adorned her face returned. Clawed hands gripped a stone altar, where she proceeded to rip it out from the root and hurl it off to the side. Panic settling in, the brood mother glared hatefully towards Devon before letting out another, unearthly hiss in his direction. Beating her wings, she took the air above, buzzing like a fly stuck behind a window. Finally she latched onto the walls with her appendages and crawled back into the bell tower, the center of her hive. She would be safe, she knew she would safe there…even if the music still pursued her like a hound from hell.

Life was a symphony but this performance was punctuated by screeching beetles, a howling Brood Queen, and the crash of broken furniture. Tempest wove swirling winds about the space as the chaotic destruction seemed to flow with the music’s tempo. Agnes as much as the queen was listening, made all the more apparent by her pained thrashing and split motives. She almost struck him but he was quick and she pulled her piercing strike.

Still, it was too close. He was not interested in losing an appendage to the woman, to the insects. He was not food. Hopefully that was very clear now. She roared in pain and then Agnes shone through, pleading and pained. It gave Devon pause, a frown creasing his features though the darkness did not recede from his eyes.

The altar fell with renewed rage from the Queen. All her claws and jagged spindly legs aside, the hiss was one of frustration and hatred. He saw it in each facet of her eyes. Up she went, winds carrying her to the wall. He couldn’t change the wind direction, swirling out from him and out, quickly enough to prevent the movement. Up she went, retreating into the dark confines of her nest.

“Hold,” Devon said as he held a finger against his neck, a button beneath the fabric compressing. Those in the vans outside stayed silent, the speakers still recounting Agnes’ violin solo from the Unity concert. They were ready to close the doors and leave at the need, but not prepared to enter. Wary, worried glances moved between them. “Any report on the channel or police approach, leave.”

It had been a long time since he’d hit a living target with lightning. He’d practiced it too many times now between Sanctuary’s aged training chamber and now CLASS, but that wouldn’t make it easier now. No, it would be difficult, especially if he had to do it Agnes. He was confident he could reason with her mind; she was still there. But after talking with her, stressing the friends of Haven she had, and bringing her music to bare doubt was starting to creep in. If that didn’t work, what would?

“Agnes,” Devon called as he started for the stair. Near to the bottom he dropped another repellent pack and another glow stick. Much of the original scent was now moderately dispersed through the broken church and somewhat outside of it, instead of strongly protecting the few areas. Indeed, with the chaos and the wind and the queen’s thrashing the other packs and glow sticks had been strewn about in disarray.

“Agnes, listen to this music. This is your music. Your family and friends need you too. You and your colony, your swarm can come home together,” Devon said eagerly as he took step by step carefully. Dark eyes peered out through cracks of broken wood at the storm. Still the wind howled as thunder and lightning made their own symphony of the night. “You need to remember all you are. You must be one person. You can’t protect your swarm from everything like this. You know this.”

Logic would only go so far and he knew that. His mind remained on the winds encircling him slowly, gently, waiting for the need… Up he went dropping another pack and glow stick near to the top before alighting at the church bell’s floor. Devon frowned at the waxy wall coverings, the broken beams woven together with so much insectoid expectorant, and the roaming wave of insects that answered to Agnes hive mind.

Down went his last repellent and glow stick there at his feet. A wandering breeze explored the area around him as he watched to see how swiftly the currents moved about, where it stopped, where it escaped… Black eyes narrowed.

“Would you abandon all of us?” Devon asked. “If you truly wish to remain here, I will not stop you. I will not harm your children. I am not that man. But you must make this decision of one mind and know I cannot protect you here. Choose to leave us behind.”

“Leave your music. Leave River…” his voice drew out the word as the winds around him rose and he too with them, hovering mere inches from the ground as black locks danced around his brow. “Leave Rebecca.”

A dangerous gust smashed against the bell tower, blowing out the already damaged wall behind Tempest. Thunder clapped as lightning split the night and burned brightly behind him. Somewhere outside a scorch marked the burnt grass of the yard, broken wood now decorating it.

“What will you choose?” Tempest screamed, demanded.

The Queen had fled. Of course it didn’t seem like the most elegant of moves but the matriarch needed to flee. The repulsive smell, the burning light, the pain in her head, all of it drove her away from the man and the accursed music that seemed to be digging through the muck that coated her psyche. She needed to get out, she needed to breathe, to think, to figure some manner of protecting her children from this intruder, from protecting her hive.

With a final hiss or aggravation, and a warning, she bounded for the walls, climbing higher and higher as she made her way to the upper levels, the path that she had taken before. Taking little care of actually hiding the direction that she went, the insect queen barreled through the halls, knocking over discarded furniture and crushing wooden beamed beneath her spined legs. She didn’t care where she ran, or what she ran into, all she knew was that she needed to go and she needed to go now.

The hive. Her nest. It needed to be protected. Her children needed to be protected. The intruder had repelled her so she had to do whatever was possible in order to safeguard her home. She may have failed the first encounter, but she wouldn’t fail again.

The second she was in the familiar surroundings of the nest that she had been constructing, Agnes could smell the repugnant scent following her from the halls. The man called out the name again, the one that hurt to listen to. Music still bombarded her from all sides, echoing through the vast and empty chambers of this broken down hovel that was once a house of worship. Each screech of the violin cut deeper and deeper, down to her very marrow. Angrily Agnes began to pace the royal quarters, growling and snapping at every sound. Even her insects were beginning to recoil but were faithful enough to remain close by.

The music rising higher, Agnes screamed as she lashed out, sending a pair of legs off to the side, smashing into a nearby wall that had yet to be converted. Try as she might, the voices of her children were being drowned out by that accursed music. All she wanted to do was to run, to cut it out of her mind, to escape it, but she was not being granted that by any means at all. Instead, with every passing second, it only continued to grow worse, until the queen found herself hidden in some dark alcove, on her knees, her hands held up to her indentions were her ears were.

It wouldn’t silence. No matter how hard she tried, it just wouldn’t stop. So distracted by this, she hardly noticed the man who had started this whole ordeal not standing in the entrance way to her hive. It wasn’t until he started talking that her panic-stricken eyes snapped towards him.

>> “Would you abandon all of us? If you truly wish to remain here, I will not stop you. I will not harm your children. I am not that man. But you must make this decision of one mind and know I cannot protect you here. Choose to leave us behind.”

His words were only adding more fuel to the fire that was already scorching her skull. Before, everything that he was saying meant little to her. But now, with all the music, with his persistence, with the distractions, Agnes found herself unable to resist the words anymore. They were digging deeper and deeper, finding that screaming, struggling core of her mind that fought for freedom. As much as she tried to quell it, it was only getting stronger now. He reminded her that she was something, that she could do things, that…she played this music.

The revelation alone already started the process of her reclaiming what was to be hers. He was right. She had to made this decision. She had to choose to go with him or to serve only the nest. He was promising her comfort, safety, and reminder of the woman that was buried underneath the carapace.

>>“Leave your music. Leave River…Leave Rebecca.”

He said it. The most important things that mattered to her. While the name “River” itself may have not been enough to push her over the edge, it was the fact that he mentioned Rebecca. Her mind immediately snapped, filled with images, pictures of love, laughter, and years. She remembered the redheaded girl with the countless freckles and the mismatched eyes – but there was someone else with her. She could see another young woman, with raven dark hair, a sad yet innocent smile, and eyes, eyes that sparkled like freshly dug sapphires. It was her that she latched onto the most, her that struck that final cord deep in her mind.

This wasn’t…right…

A crack of thunder and a burst of light. The dilapidated building began to tear apart, wind howling and rain coursing around her. She fought against the protective hive mother, the one who wanted to only protect her children, and the side of her that was trying to dig itself out of the darkness. She peeked out, glaring at the man firmly, teeth bared and compound eyes reflecting the light behind him. She looked like a demon stalking its most hated prey.

>>“What will you choose?”

Her mind suddenly became a whirl. Images, songs, thoughts, fragments, all of it crashed over her like the iciest cold water. She could feel herself regaining some control, but not until the brood mother made one last and desperate effort to protect what was hers. With another shrill cry, the queen of insects suddenly burst from her hiding place, her full height reached thanks to her added appendages. As she skittered like some nightmarish creature towards Devon, she snarled, arching the stinger from her hair and a pair of limbs in order to impale him. But just as she was, there was a snap.

She screamed as the reigns inside of her head was suddenly snagged and pulled back. Stopping short of striking Devon, the brood mother tumbled, snapping and hissing her primordial song. She lashed out at wooden beams, chunks of her carapace break off as she stumbled back, crying and gnashing at the open air. Falling into a heap, she clawed desperately at the ground, but it was too late. Agnes Nicholas was regaining control.

Tempest stared back at the Brood Queen that would be Agnes. She roared and glared, flashed her teeth and hissed. He was resolute, firm in his conviction to reach his friend. He couldn’t give up on her but he wasn’t satisfied she was ready to give up either. His mind struggled with the winds outside; he wanted to fly away and an escape from this danger seemed only wise.

But how often did we do things for friends that put us at a disadvantage? Was helping a friend truly a disadvantage? No, it was difficult. Life was a series of challenges; everyone had them. If you didn’t conquer them, they conquered you. Wisdom was born from experience and thus, it was wise to face this challenge.

Of course, most challenges didn’t want to kill and eat you.

“What will you choose?” Tempest screamed, demanded.

There was a roar of rage from the woman and before he could react she was skittering toward him. His black eyes widened in surprise finally spotting her from her seclusion amongst the waxy nest. Her hair moved and her piercing appendages moved upward, clearly intent on striking him. He pulled at the winds around him and moved his arms to block, but the fear of knowing it was likely too late sunk into him. If anything, she’d got knocked aside after striking him…

Then she was screaming. She stopped, falling back and Tempest spun as he rode the gusts he called back. He was almost out of the building through the opening he’d made when he stopped, seeing her thrashing about in clear distress. It had worked. He flew forward, landing back at the top step and tapped his com.

“Breakthrough. Half volume and hold,” Devon called. He took a few deep breaths to center himself as he replayed the near melee he’d gotten caught into. He had been holding his breath. Agnes was clawing and crying, biting at nothing. Wood snapped and stone chipped. Devon swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Agnes, we will figure this out. Focus on what you want; you will make it through this,” he said loudly. The music was lessening, but Devon wasn’t quieting the storm. Keep the cover of thunder and lightning while she transformed. He grimaced, watching her physical and mental pain.

“You have already made it through the hard part. You can do this,” Devon urged, his voice gentler now.

It hurt. There was no one way to describe it. After Agnes had exploded out from her hiding place, skittering towards the intruder in one final attempt to rid him from her life, she stopped herself. But as she stopped herself the dam that held back ever ounce of pain she had ever felt, or would ever feel, suddenly burst. Her body was flooded with the most agonizing sensation. It was like suddenly having a choke chain tugged after running at full speed in a single direction. She was yanked back, momentarily forgetting how to breathe, and sent spiraling towards the ground.

In that moment there was no intruder, there was no trying to defend the hive, there was only a single entity struggling to regain control. For Agnes it was like crawling through a cramped tunnel that was lined on all sides with broken glass. She could see the light ahead, she could hear the voice of her friend as he tried to pull her back from the brink, but with ever inch that she crawled she could feel the glass biting, cutting, and slitting deeper and deeper into her skin. She wanted to cry, she wanted to give up, but behind her she could hear the unearthly, primordial screech of the beast that she had become.

Not again. She wasn’t going to go back there again. However painful it was, she had to press forward…

>> “Agnes, we will figure this out. Focus on what you want; you will make it through this,”

She could hear him butt she made no indication that she truly did. The mutant was no in agony, screeching wildly as she attacked anything around her. However her attacks were not calculated or fueled by rage. Instead they were clumsy, sweeping, and broken things more by chance than by design. As the rain poured upon her and the wind swept across her features, she scarcely paid any attention to it. Instead she just continued to lash out, seeking the destruction of any and all that were too close to her…even herself.

>>“You have already made it through the hard part. You can do this,”

Falling onto her knees, exhaustion setting it, it could suddenly become very apparent that the dangerously bright creature that was once there no longer so lifelike. The carapace that protected her was beginning to wither. Shrinking within itself every section, chipping and falling off with every movement. However, as the carapace began to fall away like dead leaves, beneath it would be revealed a thick, syrup-like fluid most foul smelling coated the soft skin underneath. Briefly one would wonder if they were staring at sinewy muscles in a nightmarish display – but that wouldn’t be the case at all. This was not muscle, but skin merely stained thanks to the remnants transformative ichor.

She itched. She burned. It felt like having a heavy coat made of thistles draped over her naked body. As the primal screams died away in the back of her mind, Agnes did the only thing she could – she clawed. Though her talons were withered and cracking, she began to rake them down her face, screeching as more of that brownish ichor slowly oozed from her wounds like syrup. Agnes growled painfully, pulling at the carapace slowly, pulling it off in thicker and thicker chunks. It hurt to do so, feeling her skin being pelted by rain and wind due to how sensitive the new skin was. But she didn’t stop. If Devon protested, she didn’t hear it, she had to get it off. With every passing second her mind started to return to her so he pulled and she broken and she slammed her back into the ground. It all needed to come off.

With each hit of her back, her piercing appendages bent and twisted until finally they broke off easily and continued to crumble. The weight off her back, Agnes heart beat faster and faster. It felt almost like she was going to vibrate off of her chair. She needed to get up, she needed to stand. Moving onto her feet, she stumble weakly, like a baby foal, and stumbled over, into the only individual there with her.

Shakily she clung to him with one hand, her free one continuing to tear at her carapace until, at last, the monster was gone and in her stead stood the stained, supple body of the blue-eyed, dark haired, violinist Agnes Nicholas. Secretions still clinging to her usual snow-white skin, she looked similar to that one poor prom queen who had pig blood dumped all over her.

When she managed to pull the last of the carapace she had strength to pull off, Agnes weakly looked up at Devon, her blue eyes seeking his, her dark hair slick against her scalp. Her skin, despite the fluids, was flawless, not a blemish, even the tattoo that most knew about on her hip was completely gone. Agnes Nicholas was reborn and she looked as if she had been dragged through the much to achieve it.

Leaning more heavily against him, Agnes tried to open her mouth to speak, but just as she did, she fell onto her knee, doubled over, and retched rather harshly until she vomited glob after glob of the insectoid wax she had been using to make her nest. Now on all fours, Agnes could feel the rain and the cold, and briefly saw her breath form tiny clouds in the air. But the physical discomfort was only thee beginning.

She remembered. She remembered what she did to Hatchet Jim and as his cries and pleas for help rebounded in her head, Agnes found herself starting to sob. ”W-What…did I do…” she whimpered. ”Oh…my…god….w-what did…I do…?” Crying she fell onto her side and started to curl up into a fetal position. Even though she was began to human – she didn’t feel like she ever truly would be again. She was a monster through and through.

Agnes looked like a woman possessed, pulled back on unseen strings while her back and rib cage twisted. Her limbs flailed out and she stopped breathing. Devon frowned, jumping with subtle gusts to avoid her even as he spoke to reassure her frame of mind. She needed to push through.

The bell tower was not going to survive her thrashing. So many beams were broken and much of it was coated in the phlegm she’d been spewing out. They’d likely burn this place down, and that was for the best. The rain fell in easily and the gust he’d pulled to break the wall had put a large hole in anyway. That was fine; Agnes was more important than part of a wall.

The Brood Queen was breaking too. Devon watched with eerie fascination as she unmoprhed. That was good; he’d wondered if she would forever remain looking as the insect monster. He knew Agnes could adopt some physical characteristics, but this was well beyond that. The foul fluid that sloughed off her skin almost made him sick. He grimaced and renewed the swirling breezes around him to filter out what smell he could. Agnes was digging herself out.

“You’re doing it, Agnes. You will play music again. You will see those you love,” Devon urged her on. He wondered how long it’d be before she could see anyone else. They’d have to talk regularly now; this was an event sure to leave a traumatic echo.

Then she found him. Tempest wove his arms around her, skin as soft and pink as a newborn. He held her tightly, the last of her spiny talons and carapace broken and lost. He focused; he did not grimace; he did not get sick. He looked at her with care and smiled gently. But she dropped, and Devon went with her. She wasn’t alone in this, none of them were. He draped an arm over her back as she came to rest on all fours.

The tears came and that was expected, but not the pained cries. It was not the time to dig. She turned over and Devon slid off his black jacket to put over her shoulders. “You are a mutant. Something terrible happened to you and your body responded. But you did not do so willingly; you did not choose what happened. Now you know however. Now you have asserted control. Together we will help you maintain that, for you, for those you love, for your family, for your swarm…” Devon words were gentle but firm. He paused before any thunder, knowing it was coming.

“You will master this, Agnes. But we must go now. We need to go home and you need to rest before we talk more,” he added urgently. “I will carry us out.” He pressed the jacket around the flesh of her back and chest before standing. A howling wind rose outside as he eased the rain nearby.

With a little effort, he gathered Agnes in her arms. He wasn’t accustomed to carrying people but the winds he rode rushed to gather him and his friend. They rose and the weight in his arms subsided as they slowly spun out the hole in the wall and then fell with feather softness to the ground. Devon hugged her close as he neared the first van.

The doors opened as two women gave Devon a quick nod and helped Agnes inside. He followed in and sat beside her as the violin playing quieted outside, but the sound of the symphony continued in their van. “Plum Island, please,” Devon asked the driver.

“You can return,” the driver said into her com for the other van. She put the vehicle in gear and added, “We’re moving. Out.”

Devon put a reassuring hand on Agnes’ shoulder as the storm continued. Glancing out the window, lightning flashed and struck the bell tower. The clouds raged and the rain washed the tears away…