[Clear condition: Capture the flag]
One singular day. He'd returned around noon the day before. The Void had given him a singular day of grace before throwing him right back into the flames. He wished he'd taken the time to appreciate it more.
Frost discarded his fake glasses and threw on a thin tactical vest. This particular vest was resistant to knives, but would only be able to block small calibers and even then it was luck-based. It was the only thing that fit beneath his sweater without restricting movement and bulking him up heavily, so he put it on. Finishing off the outfit was a pair of combat boots that slipped over his pants. No hassle, good grip. The ideal shoes for battle. Of course, he didn't expect to run into resistance unless other Voidhunters were on campus.
For weaponry, he grabbed a small knife and stuck it in the holster within his boot. He'd lost his trusty crowbar on his last excursion, so this would have to do for equipment. With luck and with haste, he wouldn't have to use it at all. Thinking this, leveraged his boot to open the window and prop himself up into the window frame.
"Failure of a degree-essential class," He murmured, looking out upon the campus expanding into the distance before him. "Can it do that?"
[Checkpointer20: The void is the power of reality itself, Frost.]
[Checkpointer20: Technically speaking, there is very little it can't do.]
Frost gazed at a small white marker in his vision, which was conveniently shaped like a flag. It hovered there like a floater, or a piece of debris he couldn't quite get out. The marker, it seemed, was pointing towards the engineering building, a place he was intimately familiar with. Coincidentally, it would also be filled with a bunch of people he knew, and who might get caught in the crossfire of whatever happened next.
Frost stepped out of the window as he'd done many times before. To his right was a pipe to carry water from the eavestrough above. He gripped it with both hands and slid down the wall, boots scraping loudly against the bricks until he'd slid to a safe enough height to leap the rest of the way. As he fell, he caught the glimpse of a surprised looking resident through a window which vanished in a fraction of a second. He hit the grass with a graceful roll and immediately started sprinting.
[There are currently [4] Voidhunters in the distortion area]
Voidhunters? Was that what caused the high quantity of energy? This time, it seemed he'd be competing with real people rather than an object of the distortion. That certainly complicated things. Did they have the same wager on the line? If that was the case, what would they be willing to do to get it? For Frost… To keep his promises he didn't mind breaking a few bones.
Whatever effect Frost's reputation had with the slaves that day seemed to have worn off. Had they forgotten him already? Even so, the distortion meant that he could let loose with whatever powers he did have. Last time, he'd enhanced his body using the energy of the Void. Now, he found that the emotions and the exact scenario of that moment couldn't be replicated. How had he done it, exactly? The enhancements had allowed him to ignore the pain, too, which was something he'd have greatly appreciated at this moment.
For now he did without enhancements. Frost was in superb physical shape anyways, and the pressing issue of failing a class propelled him forward into the engineering building. Luckily, there was no one to get in his way as he charged onwards. It was around noon, so a lot of the classes were probably still in session. Or perhaps for now all of the students had become mere objects of the distortion. A terrifying thought.
The engineering building was six floors of boring brutalist architecture. The outside was made of concrete, but ridged like a sound dimming pad with little triangular prisms jutting out one after the other. The building was split in two halves, with a glass connecting hallway running between them above the courtyard in which Frost now stood. There was a fountain which wasn't running today, and benches occupied by no one. The fauna was greying and dead. The building was eerily empty, like a zombie apocalypse. For now, not even the enemy could be seen.
Frost slowed down as he entered the lobby of the Western building. There was a lady behind the visitor desk but she ignored him entirely. This woman had seen him sprinting through here looking worried far too many times to question it now. Frost's misery was so common within the engineering building that he didn't even feel too out of his element at this moment. An atmosphere of dread was just to be expected. He turned a corner into an empty hallway, and decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator.
The atmosphere was dark and dank, and the only light was a bulb above the door which flickered aggressively like the energy within it was panicking.
[GreatGadly30: That's Void interference, son. The enemy is nearby.]
"Hasty generalization," Frost managed. "They aren't my enemies just because they want to pass a class."
[TheConquerer356: Everyone is an enemy in the Void. Treat them as such.]
Frost gripped the railing of the staircase without another word and started sprinting as fast as he could. He was used to these stairs from his many days rushing to class and not wanting to waste time on the elevator. He moved even quicker now, and the corners came at him with the haste of cars on a highway. His head spun, but he twirled around and around as he climbed five floors and then finally to the top floor.
The door was within his grasp, and the icon of the flag directly on the other side of it in the hallway. He reached his hand out to grasp the handle, and recoiled in pain as the door swung open with enough force to hurt his arm on impact. Frost panicked, stumbling backwards and catching himself on the railing. Sparing a look for only a moment he saw that, should he have fallen, he'd have plummeted through the middle of the staircase all the way to the bottom.
"So it is you! Bastard!" A slightly accented female voice spoke.
"What?" Frost asked. And he looked up to discover the identity of the door kicker was none other than Lana Whitehall. She'd switched to a different outfit since their meeting earlier, with nothing but a white t-shirt and a black sweater. Compared to her usual outfits – dressing like she was to attend a ball – this was quite the change. She looked pissed, and sweat was running down her forehead.
Also, she was pointing a gun at Frost's head. That, Frost thought, was an action unbecoming of her beauty. Shit. So much for fencing…
[TheConquerer356: So this crazy chick was a Voidhunter?]
"Lana!" Frost cried, putting his hand up. "What the hell! Why do you have a gun?"
Frost was never good at lying.
The next second stretched like the moment before the starting gun or the night before Christmas. Everything came down to this one moment where Frost's very life teetered on a wire, a coin flipping in air, fate undetermined. A thousand thoughts ran through his head while Lana's only focused on a single choice.
And she made the wrong choice, despite it all. Despite the obvious lie Frost had told and his incriminating appearance. Despite the fact that she'd known Frost to have strangely callused hands. It all added up. Even so, Lana Whitehall hesitated for one. Singular. Second.
And that was enough.
Frost was already lunging, his face now letting down the facade and revealing primal anger. Lana pointed the gun and fired, but he'd already closed the gap. The shot was redirected into the roof, and Frost had just as quickly disarmed her. They struggled for a moment, but he overpowered her with a burst of strength and threw her into the railing he'd been cowering on only a moment before.
"Frost, please!" Lana cried.
"Shouldn't have thought twice," Frost said. And he immediately took his own advice. The bang of the gunshot rang downwards through the staircase, and the impact of the bullet sent Lana's limp body over the railing. He heard the clang of metal as she hit off one of the railings on the lower levels, and finally a thud as she struck the concrete on the bottom floor. A soft groan followed, and then silence.
So much for not killing anybody today. As the saying went though, don't point a gun at somebody if you aren't prepared to get shot.
He couldn't help feeling a pang of regret anyways. That was by far the dumbest reason he'd ever hurt somebody. She'd tried to shoot him first, and she was actively getting in the way of his ability to keep his promise… Yeah. He had a good reason. That's what he'd tell himself tonight and ever after. What happened here was not a murder, but self defense against someone who'd gotten in his way and been careless about it.
I won't let anyone or anything get in my way ever again.
He flicked the safety on the pistol and slipped it into his waistband.
[Checkpointer20: You're a sick individual, Frost Direshard.]
"You're the one who said to treat everyone like an enemy," Frost groaned. He slipped from the doorway and closed it behind him.