"No . . . no . . ." Icsorue shook her head quickly.

She began to stand, a slow and lethargic process that seemed wholly alien to herself or anyone else. She looked dead. Icsorue was completely limp; her head was hung and face to the floor, her arms were limply danging before her, and her back barely had the strength to straightened. Yet, she moved her legs. Icsorue's knees were together and slowly spread apart, her feet twitching rapidly at first, stopping only when she started to draw one leg forward, to inevitably sit on one knee, with the other before her chest. Even still, her fingers remained unmoving, draped across the floor.

Icsorue whispered in a tone unlike any she'd ever used before: "oI hear . . . screaming. Everyone screaming."

Many regarded Icsorue Lahmendt as psychotic. She had horrendous mood swings every so often, ranging from happy to violently sad with very little prompt, and many other enigmas thought her insane--but acknowledged her abilities. Never once, however, did she sound insane. Until now. She didn't sound herself--she didn't sound human. Sadness filled her every word, but the touch of madness was far too audible to be disregarded. She was . . . apathetic. Unemotional, yet crying--and even then, for every sniffle and huff, there was a barely audible tone of joy: laughter. Icsorue wanted to laugh.









". . . oI don't . . ." Icsorue spoke between gasps, her head never lifting, her eyes always to the floor, even though she, ". . . want to survoive this . . ."

It was just too sad, hearing those words come from her. It especially tugged at Eilert, as he knew exactly how she felt: not wanting to live, not not having the will to kill yourself. The only reason Icsorue would was because of Silver's command.

"If that is how you truly feel, than I apologize," Eilert intoned quietly. "Because I will not let you die."

She stood up. If I can get her to start moving...

"So...if you truly wish for your life to end here, your only option is to carry out your orders and kill me. But I will not make it easy for you."

And that was that--whatever Icsorue thought she wanted or deserved, he was not going to let it happen. Because he too knew what it was like to realize you've caused others pain...he knew what it was like to be responsible for the death of someone close to him.

Though he wasn't trained for fighting and therefore didn't change his posture, there was nonetheless something about his demeanor that suggested he was ready for whatever she might do.

"Icsorue . . ." Sturm whispered, his voice barely audible with the roar of power all around them--even his normal speaking voice was overshadowed by this; he'd have to shout if he wanted to be heard.

Sturm understood, too. Icsorue had to live with those memories. He knew damn well that Silver had simply glossed over what he had used her for; there were more that died by her hand--more operatives and normal people alike that she killed with her own two hands. Even if they succeeded--if they subdued her and broke through to Silver's sanitarium--Sturm doubted if she'd ever be the same again. A person could only deal with so much. Once the conscience was overloaded, that was it. A slew of psychological disorders were simply guaranteed to follow from there. It'd be a miracle if she'd ever be able to look him in the eyes again.

For that reason alone, Sturm was having difficulty acting. He didn't want to think of it as mercy to harm her. That was too cruel. He wanted to think like Eilert, and determine that without a doubt, he wouldn't let her commit to what she wanted of herself: to die. Tyrian Sturm truly wanted that, and yet . . . he could not. He couldn't speak; he couldn't move.

The longer she went without using her power, the more her subconscious built it up. While a normal attack would have not been lethal to Eilert or Sturm, as she could dampen that by her equally as strong subconscious want for the two men to survive, a stronger attack could only be held back by so much. Inevitably, she was going to wind up using extensive amounts of power without any ability to hold it back whatsoever. Icsorue just wanted her friends to run away before that could happen . . . but they weren't. Eilert had made it clear that he, at the very least, had no intentions of running--and Sturm was not the type of man to avoid a situation, especially when he felt remotely responsible.

Icsorue was standing. Her back was hunched forward and her arms remained limp; likewise, she hadn't looked away from the floor yet at all. Power exuded from her form, power latched upon the ceiling, strength welled up in the very air around her. The flashes of light illuminating the atrium with no discernible pattern permitted the thickness of the air to be seen: how the air seemed tainted by pure, unadulterated heat. Icsorue was beginning to sweat, just like Sturm--though, Eilert was well off without his coat keeping his body heat in. At this rate, they'd all die of a heat stroke before anything.

If she didn't release the power, that is.

There was a prompt; there was always going to be a prompt. Not wanting her friends to die, even if she couldn't control her powers, there would at least be warning. Icsorue sucked in air and released a deep scream between her clenched teeth, and at that moment, Sturm was ready to move.

The heat was like knives, gathering and spewing forth with surgical precision, dashed and followed by sparks of static carrying deadly impulses. There was no order, just a release of gathered energy--but not a full unleash. She could keep herself from doing that much, at the very least.

Eilert couldn't blame Sturm for not acting--had he ever felt that he wanted to die? For his existence to end? And the answer was no, Eilert was certain. He was one of those rare types that were so driven to accomplish something they put all personal wants aside. No matter how depressed the former Purple Enigma might get, he would never take his own life, for his life in his mind was not his own; it was the world's.

Eilert couldn't quite think that way. He knew intellectually that enigmas were generally denied any sort of person happiness; they were supposed to be dedicated to the world for the remainder of their existence. But for him to feel that way was another thing entirely.

It was surprising, but he'd always been rather selfish, even before becoming an enigma.

When the hot knives came, he began to dart back and forth to avoid them--they weren't targeted, but the sheer amount of them meant dodging was difficult. In a way the scattered attack was more dangerous than a focused one. Several times he dodged one projectile only to nearly step into another one, getting several minor burns for his efforts. After the electric attacks, though, it was hard to tell--much of his skin was at least slightly burned already.

As he dodged he made his way towards the steps, making sure to pick up a pair of objects that had fallen near them. One of them he threw at Icsorue: the rock he'd initially thrown at Silver that'd been deflected. He had no intention of detonating it on her, but rather force her to switch to defense and stop the heat barrage.

The wave of heat, like knives, could cut solder its way through skin and bone; Sturm and Eilert had no choice but to avoid them at all costs. In the end, Icsorue expended much of heat in the air, but not the electrical current. The electrical currents would spell death; she was holding that back as long as she possibly could. The only thing it caused was difficulty in getting close to her, as a spark could very well flash right before either Eilert or Sturm if they were too close, as well as a sub-conscious need to keep them from passing her by. Indeed, they weren't going to make that, no matter their attempts.

Icsorue was near the center of the atrium, but she had half of it cut off: progressing to the other side, where they could reach the double doors in which Silver had entered, was impossible. Sturm had tried it once, but not again; the mistake had been learned from rather quickly.

As soon as Eilert inched past her, he'd feel nothing but excruciating pain, followed by the hard sensation of his back slamming against the floor. It was the same as what happened to Sturm: Eilert dodged by and passed her by a couple of feet, before she harshly sent him flying with fifteen hundred volts to the chest. That was the primary difficulty of her electricity: while she didn't use it for non-predictable attacks so far, it was so accurate when aiming was involved that one would be hard pressed to avoid the first shot, and have even more difficulty with the second shot.

Eilert would be knocked back near Sturm, who was more than willing to reach down and help his companion back up.

"She's not going to let us through . . ." Sturm stated the obvious, just in case it hadn't set in just yet. "That much is for sure . . ."

Eilert had only just grabbed the rock when he was struck once more by electricity, sending him flying back towards the center of the room and landing near Sturm. Fortunately it was a relatively weak bolt (at least compared to his previous electrocutions) but it was still painful. That was definitely the most dangerous power she possessed--electricity traveled nearly instantly, and dodging it would be nigh-impossible. He wasn't exaggerating when he'd said if Icsorue wanted she could kill them instantly.

He gratefully accepted Sturm's hand in standing up. "Indeed," he agreed, though getting to the door hadn't been his plan in the first place. It was worth keeping in mind that getting anywhere near it would have a similar effect, though.

Taking one of the objects he picked up--the rock, which had been deflected when he threw it earlier--he tossed it at and actually aimed past Icsorue, but it would fly by fairly close to her. It was only a distraction; if she deflected it, that was fine, otherwise if she ignored it he'd detonate somewhere behind her to make her shift her focus.

And when she did he charged, something which was not normally advisable. However, in front of him he held out his enigma cloak, a single glyph lighting up on it--the Glyph of Power. He was using it as a shield, and with that it would be more durable, though still unlikely fully absorb any attack she made.

But he told himself it didn't matter if he was injured--if he could just get a hand on her, even for a second, he could save her...

Sturm was at a bit of a loss. He had to hang back for a moment and knelt down to the floor, where he was able to set his gun down and not fear losing it. For the sake of checking his own resources, he opened his coat and looked within. Sturm usually carried on his person numerous serums, surgical supplies, and sterilization equipment, but he lacked the latter two, and had not that considerable of a supply of the former. A majority of them had been used to get himself up the mountain, which he had minimal help with, much to the dismay and worry of the conscious beings accompanying him.

This, of course, meant that he didn't have anything on his person with which to defeat Icsorue. The only serums he had were basic temporary performance enhancements; recent developments that had a short effect and minimal to no side-effects. That wouldn't do much more than make Icsorue into a temporary god. The only item he had on his person that could bring her down was his firearm . . .

The stone flew past Icsorue's head, detonating behind her and sending shrapnel of stone in all directions. Some of them struck Icsorue in the back, but did very little damage to her: she was, for the most part, out of body. Her limited control meant that physical pain became foreign; her back was bleeding, but she was unmoved. With the detachment of body in mind also came her full loss of control of her own powers, which seemingly developed a mind of its own based solely upon Silver's orders, which she could only loosely inhibit.

Sparks gathered close to the floor, and with precise accuracy, aimed straight for Eilert's feet--they could go beneath the cloak, unable to be dampened by its formidable defense, and strike hard at Eilert's ankles, bearing more than enough power to drop him immediately, and with his body having gathered momentum with his run, he'd likely fall face first to the floor and even skid for quite a distance--and if such were to occur, he'd find himself on the floor six feet from Icsorue.

. . . and her open palm held towards his face . . .

. . . and the blazing crimson gathered before her hand . . .

. . . and the heat energy that shook the very floor beneath him . . .

There was no flame, for a lack of flammable material, but pure heat instead. This was a much more dangerous entity, however: not only did it provide the same effects of flame--melting, boiling, and burning--but those effects were multiplied exponentially. Likewise, the radiation that this exuded was equally, if not more, dangerous, as the exposure to this degree of heat energy and its effects upon oxygen were both suffocating and conducive to the developments of cancers both mild and severe. Every ounce of heat energy gathered throughout the area had been formed into that one ball of radiating energy.

In short, if Eilert were downed--or managed to continue his approach unharmed--he'd need to move in the very near future, or suffer a most destructive death . . . like standing, for less than a nanosecond, upon the surface of the sun . . .

Eilert's charge was cut short as electricity jumped from the floor to his ankles, bypassing both the rubber soles of his boots and the enhanced protection of his cloak. The shock wasn't too damaging, but it did send him to the floor to slide headfirst, stopping only a few yards from Icsorue.

Which might have been beneficial, except that when he looked up there was a massive amount of heat gathering between them. Far too much for him to stop with his cloak. She apparently could no longer hold back the lethal attacks--or maybe she no longer wanted to?

He knew he couldn't move fast enough on his own--he quickly pushed himself to his feet, setting his glyphs at the same time, and leaped backward as he detonated them, the blast sending him farther and quicker than he normally could have moved.

Of course, it meant some of his own shrapnel hit him, but it was a small price to pay to keep his life...

Raw metal cranked and churned under the apocalyptic heat. The wall itself twisted and molded; metal brought to its melting point. The floor around Icsorue, chipped before her as Eilert used detonations to throw himself back and out of her line of fire, shuddered and spread--a literal gap wherein the metal upon the plates scrunched up to the far sides, bent, lifted, pushed away from the heat. And when she released it, firing straight into the wall, the effects were catastrophic--an instant death, had anyone been standing in the line of the blast.

In most situations where combat and attention was required of him, Sturm paid attention only to the task at hand. In this case, he faltered, and watched the metal as it bent and shaped under the pressure of the heat. How Icsorue was able to burr a hole straight through pure metal with absolute ease . . . it was incredible. Incredible and worrisome.

Sturm focused his attention upon Icsorue. "Icsorue! You have to stop this! You have to control yourself! If you don't . . ."

You'll kill us all!

"I can't!" Icsorue shouted, followed quickly by a scream, "I CAN'T!! Please . . . run . . . run or . . . or KILL!! ME!!"

"Icsorue . . . when we die . . ." Sturm was interrupted, however:

"oI want . . . oI want to just . . ." Icsorue meekly spoke primarily to herself, ". . . oI want to . . . to disappear . . ."

This shocked Sturm, whose eyes widened for only a brief moment, and he tightened his grip upon his gun. He didn't want to aim it at Icsorue--he knew he could. He knew he didn't need it to kill Silver, but if he shot Icsorue . . . she'd die. Besides--Eilert had a plan. He was trying to help Icsorue get her mind back. All the trauma could be undone, she could go back to normal--everything would be fine. There was no reason to kill her. The risk of them dying here was minimal--and she wouldn't be better off dead. Sturm was trying to convince himself of this, as the temptation to take aim became greater and greater.

For a brief moment, there was cutting of power, as Icsorue was screaming at them to kill her, and her guard was lifted just a notch. How much could not be completely discerned, especially by Icsorue herself, who had little to no control over her own powers at the moment.

Though the shrapnel now embedded in his arms was rather painful, when Eilert saw just what that level of heat could do he knew without a doubt he made the right choice. If he was hit with something like that, there wouldn't even be cinders left of him. He only hoped it would be awhile before she could do that again.

"I don't like either option," Eilert murmured. To run and leave her under Silver's control (and leave Silver alive to do whatever he wanted, as well), or to kill her...if those were his only two options, then he'd just have to make a third.

He saw it--her guard was dropping. Even though she thought it was hopeless, she was still unconsciously resisting Silver's control; she truly didn't want to hurt them.

"Icsorue...I too wanted to disappear. For these last few decades, all I wanted was to quietly fade from existence. So I know now...if even someone as weak as I can overcome that feeling..."

Once more he broke into a run, charging at her with his enhanced cloak held out like a shield. This time, however, he held out a little in front of him and allowed the bottom to drag on the floor--he wouldn't fall prey to the same tactic twice.

"...then so can you!"

Icsorue didn't seem to respond. She continued to stare at the floor, unmoving. If she looked at them, she'd be acknowledging what she, herself, was doing to them. Even if it was Silver's influence on her, these were her powers, this was her body. She was partly responsible, and even being partly responsible made her feel the full guilt of it all--like she had personally killed all those people, the Gold enigma, and was killing Eilert and Sturm right now. The blood was upon her hands, not Silver's--not in Icsorue's mind. Still trembling all over, she struggled to stand, trying more to fall as a show of will, while her body rebelled and demanded that it stand. Her control was so minimal that she could barely even move her own fingers by her conscious thoughts.

"Just . . . run . . ." Icsorue whispered hopelessly.

As Eilert closed in, he'd feel a completely different sensation than before. Moments earlier, it had been heat--but Icsorue had released all of the heat energy at once, as per her pure lack of control over herself. The closer he got to her, the colder he'd feel, until the coat he held in front of him would finally feel stiff as a board, and cold as the arctic. It would make approaching her difficult, as the closer her came, the more it would feel as if the sweat upon his face was freezing. The temperature was taking yet another spike.

Eilert would slow, even with a glyph of speed and/or strength; it would not be that his magic was failing, but that his body was.

Sturm couldn't fight her, even if he wanted to. He hadn't the utilities on hand to sustain a physical battle; he could take damage, but that was all. He was in no shape to be fighting. It was rare for him to feel useless, but here he was, experiencing that same feeling. He knew that Icsorue had to be stopped, though--as soon as humanly possible. If they wasted too much time, whatever agenda Silver had would be complete.

Sturm raised his voice to be heard: "Icsorue, look at me."

From searing heat to freezing cold in only a few seconds...such a transition was not good for a body. Eilert struggled to continue moving, finding himself being slowed against his will by his own body as the temperature around him continued to drop.

"I will not run any longer," he rasped, trying to will his body to keep moving forward...however, the rapid change was not good for his body. He quickly felt himself getting lightheaded and dizzy, and with the cold sapping his strength he found himself dropping to his knees, shivering.

This...isn't good... He had no defense against an attack like this. There was no dodging it or overpowering it simply being cold. He was beat up enough already...if this kept up, his body would soon shut down from hypothermia.

". . . oI . . . can't . . ." she sniffled.

Eilert was several feet before Sturm, and the only one subject to the cold. Sturm was feeling it, but not in the same effect as Eilert, who was both close enough to Icsorue to merit such effects, and the focus of the attack. Sturm slowly started towards his ally, knowing full well that he needed to pull him away from the area to cool him down. There was no way the human body could survive the dropping temperatures--Icsorue's included. That was another thing that had Sturm concerned. Icsorue, too, was shivering. her lips were turning blue, and the entire reason she was trembling became the cold in itself.

Just as Sturm was close enough reach Eilert, there was a flash. Sparks illuminated the floor just before Eilert, and heat would be felt--painful heat, electrical heat, as hundreds of volts of electricity was pumped into his chest. The explosive result would likely send him flying--fortunately back beyond Icsorue's area of effect with the cold . . .

Sturm would move to avoid Eilert if the man was tossed away, and would just as quickly stand back there once again: to stand between Icsorue and Eilert, to ensure that if Icsorue attack again, he'd be the one that was hit.

"Aiiiiirrrrrghhh!!!" Once more, Eilert was shocked so hard that he was sent flying off his feet--and unfortunately it wasn't getting any more pleasant. Narrowly missing Sturm, he landed hard on his back, skidding to a halt and twitching for several moments.

This was getting to be too much on him; he had to stop to catch his breath, regather his strength. Still...he was certain if he'd been in the cold much longer he was a goner.

Woozily sitting up, he gulped a few breaths before speaking his thoughts. "Icsorue...you still have some control, don't you? That shock just now...it was to save me from the cold, wasn't it?"

That was the only reason he could think of for it; by all means, if she left him there he would probably have died in just a few minutes.

Sturm stood between Eilert and Icsorue for several moments, but found himself tempted to move once Eilert began to speak. Something about it made sense, and Sturm knew it would affect Icsorue. He was going to stay near her line of sight, close enough that if she attacked again, he could put himself in the way (as he figured Eilert couldn't take too much more of this), but once it seemed like Icsorue was lifting her head, he knew that a strong enough connection had been made that moving became necessary. If they could get her to lift her head and look at them, they'd have made more progress than they had during the entirety of this conflict.

And she did. Icsorue looked down the path to Eilert, and while she shivered, felt the need to drop to her knees. But she didn't look away from him, despite the pain of knowing that she had caused him so much injury--that she was bringing Eilert to a state of near death, and would likely kill him if she attacked him much more.

". . . Ei-Eilert . . . D-Doctor Tyr . . ." Icsorue breathed in deep, "oI don't . . . oI don't want you to die . . ." Her deep breaths soon turned into post-sob gasps, "oI'm troying . . . oI'm troying . . ."

She was speaking directly to Eilert, and to Sturm (and Eilert both, most likely), she had proven that there was a certain degree of control. It wasn't a pleasant type of control, but it seemed that she could still attack on her own. That was some form of control, at least. Unfortunately, that meant that her limited control also meant that hurting either or both of them was required, which meant that a weaker attack knocking them out of the way of a stronger uncontrolled attack was likely the only instance of this happening where it could be in some way justified.

"Icsorue . . ." Sturm spoke up again, "You have to keep trying. You have to get a hold of yourself, and take back your control."

"oI can't . . ."

"You have to!" Sturm exclaimed in a whisper, "If not for you, if not for us, then for the world. We are the only ones now who can stop Silver."