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San let the prevarication roll off his back seamlessly, displaying his sharpened teeth as he grinned. Picture perfect image of innocence, really. It was like looking at a cat who had just pushed a glass of water off the table, all while looking directly at his owner as he did so. All smug satisfaction and the knowledge that there was nothing you could have done to stop him. Still, his little nickname threw San off guard and he glanced at the other experiments for explanation. Hesitantly, he brought his right hand up to pinch outwards from his cheeks, miming whiskers, before tapping under his eyes. Immediately, the rest of them looked away as if they were guilty and San was left floundering before a firm hand on his thigh settled him. "They changed your eyes. It's red now and kind of like a cat's. You know, with vertical pupils and everything." The girl from before explained softly, who up till how had acted as his voice for the rest of them. "I'm sorry, Sannie. I know that you liked them."

To say that San liked his eyes was a bit of an understatement. It had been one of the last physical markers that he was still, in some aspects, human. He still had other markers but they were few and far between. To have even his eyes taken from him hurt and the sudden slump of his shoulders was the biggest sign of this. Still, his hands moved even if there was a bit of a pout on his lips. "M'not rude. You just seemed uncomfortable." The girl spoke, keeping her eyes on San's hands, having to stifle her laughter and some of the signs. "If anything, you're the rude one, baldy. Receding hairline got you early, huh."

---

Those words struck him like a gunshot. He made an incoherent sound indicating pain and winced. "It's a stylistic choice! Tch,I don't know what generation you're from but these haircuts are the fad! Y'know,with the sides shaven and whatnot..." he retaliated.

After a deep inhale,he recollected his thoughts and sighed. "Never mind my comments,I'll still aid you in battle." he said,clearing his throat. "Of course I'm a bit uncomfortable! Me,a person who has lived a secluded and peaceful life,is about to fight a war alongside killing machines! Pfft..." he properly replied. He let his eyes wander around for a second and decided to pipe down and not cause a ruckus,seeing as he has probably already irritated some of them. He raised his hands and gestured that he'll calm down.

There was a heavy uncomfortable silence from the corner of the aircraft where all of the experiments sat. Some of the younger one especially looked almost stricken with fear and San immediately slid out of his seat, Ignoring Jordan, he instead focused on running clawed hands through the hairs of each experiment and bumping his head against their shoulders. Broken coos tumbled from his lips and a soundless purr shook his chest, sounding downright haunting and creepy as the only sounds that were even vocalized were sharp hisses of air that whistled past loose muscles and sharp teeth. While the vocalizations could have come from a horror movie, the others seemed to relax at it as the associated comfort that came with the sound settled into their bones and settled their minds. It was achingly intimate as San moved from person to person, especially for such a dingy setting, but he was willing to take the fall for it. He would do almost anything to give his broken and freakish family somewhere to be themselves again because what were they if not children who had grown up too fast too soon, kids who just yearned to have their innocence back. For some, they still clung desperately to the fact that they had yet to take any lives and San would bloody his own hands (paws? he wasn't sure anymore) to keep it that way. They didn't need a posh pansy who had grown up in an idyllic ignorant life that each one of them envied tell them otherwise.

Oh yes, ask the lab rats if they have ever kept up with the outside world. Ask them if they have known anything outside of stark white walls and rusted scalpels. But never ask them to be human because they were nothing but freaks of science and madness. Barely anything more than machines

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*Through the view from her binoculars Grimm saw the two apposing teams getting ready for the battle. Grimm would take a look at the wonder of creation next to her. Her pride and joy was her Medisniper mark 9 (MS.9 for short). She had worked years to create this great invention. With her MS.9 she was able to use her blessing from a longer range. It fired darts. The darts had to be filled with from a needle inserted into her wrist, that fed her ink black healing serum (her power caused her heart to produce a healing serum that activates whenever it touches another person) into a tube attached to the weapon’s ammunition chamber. She made sure she had her ammo backpack next to her so she could exchange the dart magazine as fast as possible.*

Smack. In an instant, the gun Dantier was holding was slapped away, and the sound of it skidding across the floor followed. "Show some respect, Femmings..." He looked up at the man who called his name and slapped the gun out of his hand, and to no surprise, it was the general. His voice and face changed entirely, it was stern and intimidating, filled with hatred and a sense of superiority. Dantier was a tad grateful at first, since the movement was pretty much involuntary and he most likely would've regretted it, but that feeling faded when he looked into that cold stare. It was a look he had seen before, one that he hated. This exact face... 12 years ago... He knew this man, he was the same man who was the harshest to him during his time over on the Blue side. He had been put in charge of his experiments and made them as gruelling as possible. How the hell did he make it over here, and become a general no less? Did he somehow wipe his identity off the face of the earth and make a fake one? Either way, that wasn't really what Dantier wanted to focus on at the moment. He just wanted to get out of this helicopter, and he couldn't do that for a while anyways. "Yes sir..." Dantier replied reluctantly, not breaking eye contact. He almost sounded sarcastic, but before anything else could happen, they took off and he didn't say another word.

After what seemed like forever, they finally slowed to the speed where they could drop into the battlefield with parachutes, and everyone was told to get a backpack. They all did so, some more excitedly and eager than others, and were allowed off the plane. Dantier was one of the first off, and he quickly jumped off. Below him he saw a bloodbath, filled to the brim with bodies and the sound of gunshots filled the air. They were dropped right over Red's territory, but he could faintly see Blue's side close by. The sight left a bad taste in his mouth, but he quickly turned his head and released the parachute when it was time to do so.

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Grey was ready. He was almost anticipating the battlefield, his mind had gone far from being horrified at what he saw. He'd been at it too long. He'd seen too much. But that twisting wouldn't go away. Most of the time it was the twisting from the constant pain he was in, but now that he was out here, it was the twisting feeling of wondering if this war was ever going to end. Sometimes, he didn't think so. He would be so lost in his despair that he would think that it would never end, that the cycle of bloodshed and tears and losing and winning would continue until there was no one left, and he would be just another nameless soldier in the history books. On those days, he wished to die. He wished that there would just be one bullet too much, and it would all be over.

But on other days, Grey had hope. Grey had hope that things would be different and better, that somehow, in some possible way, someone would win. At this point, he didn't care if it was Red or Blue, he just hoped that someone would end things, and that a new future could open. A different one then the pothole that he was living in now. Or, more accurately, the trench. The trench full of wires and rocks that cut him open and left him bleeding and dry. But maybe that would all change, and, though Grey would never truly not be in pain, he could possibly rest. That was all he had ever wanted, was simply just to rest.

He took his backpack with reluctance, and with almost mechanical actions, he released the parachute. The drop didn't affect him, nothing did. But the roar in his ears was nothing compared to the screams.

---

Chip eagerly jumped out of the helicopter, but his face showing no sign of joy. He took the time to plan out what he would do when he actually got down, but to no one's surprise his mind ran, thoughts constantly interrupting the train of thought, like it was a toddler asking their parents for food. He had anticipated this moment, the moment to stupid war would happen. He knew it would come someday, that was obvious.

Fades away, where is she? The girl? She was of importance. What's her name?

---

Jaxon had chuckled at Bree's explanation, mumbling something about how they probably used someone to follow her scent, knowing how they were. At Jordan's question, Jaxon had opened his mouth to respond, but only nodded when Bree spoke. He ignored the rest of the conflict beside him as best as he could, only ushering Bree back to her seat before sitting down again, a silent promise that they would speak again later passed between them. The time was fast approaching for their jump, judging by the amount of nervous leg-rubbing and fist clenching. There would be a parachute under each soldier's seat, if they didn't already wear one on their back. Jaxon reached under and pulled his from where it sat, then set it back down on the ground and pushed it with his foot until it made contact with Bree.

He wouldn't need it, after all.

Bree smiles in appreciation, then reaches down to put her parachute on. She was nervous, the stakes suddenly felt much higher now that she realized that the life of a close friend was on the line. He'll be fine Bree tells herself. She releases a nervous breath and then sits in silence, patiently waiting for the command to jump.

She grabs Rey roughly by the shoulder— though only an act for the general. “Go help Dantier.” She hisses, softly, so soft even Rey would have to strain to be able to hear her, and she was right next to his ear, then gives him a cold smile, saying out loud. “Good luck, soldat” Andrea grabs a backpack, and casually steps off the plane. Red’s territory. Blue’s territory. It was all quite obvious to her. Dead bodies scattered all over the place. Especially blood. Now this was precisely why she hated the battlefield. She preferred being a spy. Well she would rather she was not in this war at all. But being a spy was better than being a soldier. Andrea knew a lot of people. Even those from Blue. After all, she was a spy. Dantier had jumped off first, she saw him. Andrea’s head is working furiously. She knew Blue had a formidable team. Jaxon, Bree, Sans, all old ‘friends’. Well, they were a good trio, no doubt about that. She feels about in her pockets for her blades, making sure they’re safe.

The chaos magic calls her, causing an urge so great to use it she might just die from resisting it. The battlefield had sparked a insatiable hunger in her, one that seemed so psychotic yet at the same time so right. As much as she tried to deny it, despite all the surface fear of losing allies, hating being in battle, she knew this was where she truly belonged. The fear would come afterwards, she would deal with it, that weaker part of her. Deep down, she knew she was a killer. A monster. Coming from the fiery pits of hell, a part of her itched to see more bloodshed, to ruin lives. Back where she belonged. The Queen of Chaos

---

As distant gunshots and screams were able to be heard,Jordan's leg started shaking and trembling from anxiety and fear. After smacking his cheeks with his hands,tried to get himself together and grabbed a nearby parachute,holding it tight as a means of relieving stress,before equipping it.

With gentle hands, San adjusted the straps on the parachute making sure that they were not only operational but also wouldn't hurt anyone the moment they were deployed. He knew that it would sting like hell once it opened, shoulders jerking back and air drag yanked against their gravitational decent. "Stay safe." He instructed, staring each member of his family in the eye. "If you enter a battle you can't win, run. If you have the chance to escape from this hell, do so. There is no shame in fleeing, nor is there anything wrong with building a new life for yourself. Always prioritize yourself." He waited until each person nodded their head, a satisfied smile crossing his lips. Those were blasphemous orders he was giving but he couldn't care less. He had no personal stakes on this war, his only priority being his family. If they were safe then all was well. He would be a pawn for the Higher Ups of it meant their continued and relative safety.

San almost didn't want to put on a parachute. Years of the same thing got kind of old and he was tempted to test out if it was really true if cat's always landed on their feet. But still, he took one of the backpacks and strapped it firmly to his body. His tail was wrapped around his waist and tucked under his shirt, ears pinned back. The first time he had jumped with those extra appendages, he had ripped a hole in his ear. Since then, he had learned that it was better to keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.

Finally, San did one last check. There was a nervous energy that permitted the helicopter, a natural occurence as he gave the ones that looked almost sick reassuring smiles. His physical condition was pretty good too. Just some aching in his back and dull throbbing along his wrists, but nothing he wouldn't push past. Finally, he gave each member of his family a dazzling smile and a thumbs up. It was show time

---

Rey jumped, or basically leaped out of the helicopter, mostly surprised by Andrea grabbing him by the shoulder and giving a order. Parachuting down, he spotted Dantier fighting in the crowd. While Rey knew that Dantier was in much less in danger than Rey should he go down, he also knew that Dantier had no special power that could aid him in combat, and his Respawn may put him in a poor position to fight.

Parachuting about 10 meters away from Dantier, Rey activated his power. A Hot, explosive power built up inside him. Rey was rather confused at first, but this confusion was quickly replaced by panic when the power started to hurt. His whole body started burning. Perhaps it was his training, or pure instinct, but he had a voice inside his head whispering at him "Turn your palm towards the enemy! Quick!" He did exactly that. given that he didn't have a viable option. Then, all the energy seemed to flow away from his body and to his arm, launching a decently large beam of fire towards the enemies. The fire wasn't strong, but it was big, and the fire came out at such force that it probably could have knocked a few people off their feet. And it probably could have knocked Rey of his feet too, but he had other things to worry about, since his arm had been quite perfectly been incinerated off. It hurt, and he would probably be on the ground crying, if there wasn't a big number of people wanting to kill him. Rey used his other hand, slowly learning to control the fire. Slowing letting the fire trickle out of his hand at a slow pace, he encloaked his arm in fire. This could work.

---

Chip's parachute opened behind him just as he was a few thousand feet above the ground, and it gently helped him to the battle below. When he landed, he quickly took out his gun and started shooting, whilst also avoiding and dodging attacks with his speed, he also fought with his fists if he was close enough. He had no offense powers, but his speed provided great dodging and weaving between people. He would encounter many of bodies on the ground and blood everywhere. Chip had blood all over himself as well, probably from getting hurt multiple times. He might outspeed his enemies, but there was a crap ton of them. And he didn't necessarily have good reflexes either; speed doesn't equal good. Not even for his lower body, as his feet and legs got cut and bruised over time.

---

*Grimm was watching from a abandoned building that had a full sight of the battlefield. She had her MS.9 propped up on a widow ledge, she was watching the battle unfold. She could see one of the red team’s members moving speedily around the battlefield bombarding the blue team with close range shots from his weapon. She had the reticle of her scope trained on him, ready to fire a dart at him if he was injured.*

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Fear is a very interesting emotion.
Sometimes it made people stronger... Much more dangerous... Much less predictable...
Sometimes it caused people to run away without thought... Even in the blast of an incoming attack...
Sometimes it made people freeze up, making them an easy target if they didn't snap out of it fast enough...

Bree has seen it all, and up here, slowly descending down towards the ground, she couldn't look away from all the chaos. There were so many people... Their auras practically mixed together to form one giant glow. If Bree didn't know any better, she's think she was about to jump into a pit of lights. Amongst the glow she could make out some red... Then a few purple. There were so many purple auras... Dead soliders who died for a useless cause. How many of them were from her own side? Tears slip down Bree's face as she tries to turn away from the sight, but no matter where she looked, she would still see purple. Even shutting her eyes didn't help. All she could feel was the roar of auras around her and the screams of the fallen.

She crumbles down slightly upon landing on the ground, already feeling overwhelmed by everything happening around her. Her movements were slow. She takes her time removing her parachute, takes her time grabbing her hidden dagger. After being captured, she was allowed her boots and a dagger. But this one wasn't the same as her old one. It was smaller, lighter, it would do damage, but only if she caught someone by surprise. Out here, in the battlefield, there wasn't many opportunities for surprises- at least for someone like her.

Where is Jaxson? There were too many auras... Too many sounds, she had to strain to focus on one aura. Would he end up being alright? He was supposed to act as a tank, she should try and stick close! She nears an injured person. She allows the poor injured soul to grab her hand for support, then uses her free hand to heal a deep wound on their chest. A gentle glow appears under her hand, almost immediately getting rid of the pain as her power works to fix damage flesh, muscle, and tissue. She made it just in time, another few minutes of bleeding, and this person would've been too far gone, far beyond her help. They would've just become another purple aura. She stands up after healing them, and continues pushing forward. She temporarily places Jaxson out her mind and focuses on healing those who currently needed her help.

The voices..were getting louder. But Grey was too focused on his goal. The goal that, despite all of his missing memories, the holes in his head that let experiences, people, feelings all leak out, he would do as he was told. Destroy every metal weapon that he came across. Plow through enemy lines. That was his goal, his purpose. Without it, Grey was nothing. While he may have remembered nothing of his past, he knew his title: The Iron Giant An ironic name for someone who flinched away from metal, but nonetheless, that was who he was. Who he would always be.

He unhooked his parachute once he safely reached the ground, boots thumping. He checked the guards on his fists, leather patches designed to keep the most amount of damage away, then set to work. Around him, weapons would clatter and fall, twisting themselves useless. He would plow, and kick and punch, till his knuckles were bruised and broken and blood ran down his head, past his cold, emotionless eyes.

---

Jordan purposefully stalled from standing up and jumping off to savour what could be his very last moments alive. While others were fearlessly jumping off and basically leaping and diving head first into the battlefield,Jordan,being one of the last few to drop off,instead sat down and basically scooted himself until he eventually fell.

He clenched his fists as he kept falling and even though it was quite a few seconds fall,it seemed like minutes to him. Eventually,he deployed his parachute and gently landed. Though he had some issues taking it off and avoiding it from falling on him,he got over them and proceeded forwards. With his heartbeat racing,he started looking around for other Blue soldiers,hoping to recognize anyone from that helicopter.

Dantier safely landed on the field and was met with the deafening sound of gunshots and screams. He looked above him to see everyone else following him down, and Rey was the closest one near him. He looked around and noticed Chip running around, taking out a few soldiers, and then suddenly remembered something. There was a sniper in one of the buildings, he knew because he had been hit by them before. It was weird, though, since it was more like a tranquilizer than a bullet, and said ammunition healed him on contact. The sniper had a special ability like them, yet went under the radar of both of the governments. They could be choosing to live a more quiet life, but they chose to be on the battlefield, being the silent healer of the war. He remembered that he liked to call them a plague doctor, for obvious reasons. They healed during the plague that he called war, and that was enough to solidify the nickname. He began to feel a cold stare from a long ways away on the battlefield, one that glared into his soul from hundreds of yards away. He didn't dare to look in that direction, he already knew who it was after all. It was the general, who seemed to only have one goal at the moment, chill Dantier to the bone, to the point where his limbs felt like jello. His fear was soon turned to panic as a massive explosion shook the ground, and the source seemed to be from the other side. He looked over at Rey, who he knew could've been the only one to cause it. After all, he already knew what random power he would have at that moment. He had a little bit of doubt, though, considering this attempt was different from all of the others, and he noticed that Rey's power varied between them. He quickly ran over when he noticed the massive injury he had gotten from his power, pulling out some bandages. "Hey, you alright? Take it easy! You could kill yourself if you pull crap like this..." He sounded a bit angry, not at Rey but at himself. He could've told him ahead of time and he could've avoided this, but he was too late.

---

It was frightening easy to fall into a role, letting San fade away. From the moment he ran off the aircraft, S48A2N5 was in control letting the familiar howl of wind rush pas his pinned ears. The ground hurtled towards him and he let himself fall, fall, fall, deeper into apathy and numbness. It felt odd not to hold anything in his hands, his body used to crashing into the battlefield and opening fire immediately, but he wasn't a soldier here. There was protocol to follow. One hand dipped into the many pockets that were strapped to his chest, affixing a sleek black choker to his neck. The light beeped once and it was all the clearance S48A2N5 needed.

Unlike the movies, transforming was not a quick process. His bones cracked and warped into shapes it wasn't supposed to, contorting his limbs awkwardly. Hitting the ground with a heavy thump, genetically modified muscles soaked up the shock like a sponge as screams of shock and pain punctuated the flashy landing. Dust billowed up, obscuring the vision of anyone in the immediate vicinity as the screams only grew on volume before S48A2N5's body made a sickening crack that reverberated even past the sounds of death and gunfire. All that was left when the dust cleared was a decently sized crater, the bodies of Red soldiers littering the perimeter. In the center of it all was an undeployed parachute and a pile of clothes.

Unnoticed in the chaos, a small black cat slipped through the feet of warring soldiers. Light in its movements despite a noticeable limp, it padded deeper into Red territory, red eyes surveying the desolate landscape. Occasionally, it let out a meow when finding injured soldiers, rubbing its sleek body over their legs before trotting away. The black collar marked it as an owned cat, though its owner was most likely hurried amongst the heaps of corpses that only grew with each passing day

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