Audrey
Matti paced in their dorm. There wasn't another word for it— they moved like a caged animal, curtains drawn. Their bed was made, like it always was. Neat and perfect. A single eye of calm in the hurricane of their dorm. They hoped Margo wouldn't mind— all of this was necessary research after all. She surely hadn't expected them to just *Sit still*, even if she hid the truth about Annika. Papers were encrypted so deeply sometimes Matti themself forgot how to read them, stuck with tacks across one wall or arranged in their journal. The rest of the room was barren, objects dropped haphazardly across the floor making navigation the world's worst game of hopscotch.

*Frida is in danger. She's running. She requested Margo, alone. Not me. Not me. Like a sister, but she wanted Margo. Why? It's dangerous. She's in danger. Maybe she wanted to protect me. She can't. I need to help her.*

They'd pulled their hair back with a tie and jammed their hat surely onto their head. They were dressed in the clothes they never wore— new ones they'd gotten at the airport, still in their packages— and let themself shrink like they so often longed to do to change their height. With heavy breathes, they sat on the floor, opting to give Margo the option of the chair. When she got there. Not that she could come in— the door was locked (so was their closet, and the box that held their journal, and they'd installed an extra bolt just in case). Margo had been blatant about keeping things from them, and they understood. Pushed any feeling other than rationality deep into their shins for storage and never, ever thinking about. They'd bet something semi-precious, if they had it, that Margo (or Valio or Uriel) knew something about that tower. They hadn't cared before. They'd let those secrets like. But they needed to now know. For Frida. (*For Frida*, their head whispered, *Not for yourself? Your peace of mind?*). 

They didn't know. They waited for Margo.
Timothy
◇ Meanwhile...

□ An eventful morning, for sure. Lie to Amelie about where she was going so early in the morning, fill Uri in about what happened with Matti, Frida, and that accursed cellphone, slurp down her tea two or three times as fast as she'd normally have downed it, finish getting dressed. She had places to be, people to see, an early morning full of potential and mystique, a kettle cooker about to go off and blow the walls clean from their framing like a cartoon. Once she was dressed and sure she was good to go, she bid farewell to her roommate, and with a hum she popped the door open.

▪︎ Look one way, look the other, *Go.*

□ Stepping out, she slid a cigarette behind each of her ears, faded red hair tucked back as well in small clumps as a natural side effect of what she was doing. It was barely five in the morning, and she was already stressed again – Uri or Margarita had likely picked up on her deepening stress and increased irritability, whether from her worsening cigarette habit or how temperamental she happened to be ever since things had went down with Frida. Could she blame herself, when she was having prophetic visions of being converted, chucked under a halo and expected to kill for Big Sister or whatever the fuck those nuts did? Could she blame herself when she knew so much, was so close to the truth, and yet could still tell she was being kept in blindfolds and chains? Every step that carried her closer to Matti's room thudded out with resolute haste and a touch of hesitancy, natural human nervousness doing its thing as she approached his door.

▪︎ Three hard knocks, one soft. The Margo signature.

◆ "I'm here." She simply announced. "Open up, man."
Audrey
Matti's eyes darted to the doorway. It was Margo. Probably. It had to be, unless someone copied her knock and gait and knew exactly when to arrive. In that case, it would probably be better to just open the door and the being-killed-by-the-government-or-angels thing over with anyways. Flipping the bolt, they swung the door open, quickly ushered Margo inside, and slammed it closed once again.

"I've been talking to her, recently— oh, you don't have to worry about this place being bugged. I checked." They paced around their room, circling like a reverse-hawk, like prey falling to their inevitable doom. "She was hiding somewhere in the industrial district I think. She had no supplies. I assumed she was cut off from the angels, though I couldn't confirm. She was being *Hunted* By something. She mentioned hiding her Purpose— that's an Angel signifier, right?" They looked to Margo for confirmation, picking at skin with too-sharp nails. "At least, I assumed it was. The halo, likely, wings is plural and easier to hide. So not cut off, not completely, but maybe cracked. Like Annika's was. I asked her today— she was running from something. They found her, I know. I just wish we knew who 'they' were— what do you know about the tower? I won't ask you to trust me, or for information that's not relevant. I already know where our boundaries lie. I just, I *Need* To help Frida. I'm going to do it. I *Have* To."

When they finished talking, their breaths were deep and uneven, chest punching in and out. They collapsed with a sigh onto the wood of their floor, pushing aside the plastic box so that they could sit. "And. We need a plan. I'm sure there's one hidden there, amongst all my fucking questions." 

Mattias looked, very suddenly and yet not suddenly at all, very tired. They scrubbed a hand over their face and let their hair fall back into their eyes.
Timothy
◇ And so, she was ushered in.

□ But, the Matti she came across was far from the collected yet erratic gumshoe she'd been out and about with a few nights prior. Bloodshot eyes, Louis Vuitton bags underneath, motions and speech patterns permeated with sleep deprivation and paranoia. Had he always been like this? Or was being so deep in this mystery, this life-or-death confrontation dragged out over the course of agonizingly long weeks weighing down on him? It was on her, and after listening to Matti speak erratically and pledge he'd help this angel no matter what, she popped his window out and lit up one of the cigarettes she had behind her ear.

▪︎ She then sat down by the window and crossed one leg over the other.

◆ "I think I know why she asked for me in particular." Margo spoke through a cloud of cigarette smoke, thin and wispy towards the window. "I haven't really mentioned this to anyone, but I had a pretty long conversation with their so-called Big Sister. *Alva,* As she's actually known. Frida was one of the ones who brought me up to see her, and so maybe she thinks I can be trusted, if I had to guess. Or, perhaps it's all a set-up; then, is it better to steer clear? Or simply become the martyr I've always wanted to be?" Grim as fuck, Margo. Snap out of it. "But, Purpose...? Perhaps that so-called *Purpose* Is the reason each person becomes an angel; I know Alva said that, at one point, she was abducted and taken to a place much like here, but one that gave her zero freedoms. Maybe it's hardship and abuse that leads young Swedish girls into that cult, and somehow they know *I've* Been through a lot of hardship and abuse. Or, at least much more than you'd expect a billionaire to go through; I don't know."

▪︎ "And as for the tower? That's out in the industrial district. It's an abandoned Cold War-era apartment building built in the brutalist style that cropped up in the 80s, and a bit of digging tells me that place never really saw much success, even for a complex built to house working-class families. For all we know it could be where Frida is hiding... Or it could be a trap. Only way to know is to go out there... Good thing I've already got a contingency plan in place for my kids and Uri's full cooperation to simply knock me the fuck out if they manage to get a halo on me."
Audrey
Matti took deep breaths, channeling the restless, panicky energy into picking up their room and making it somewhat presentable. As they continued to put things away, it became apparent just how little they had. Soon all that was left was a barren floor, a clean desk, and a couple of lockboxes shoved under the bed. They exhaled.

"I agree. It's the only thing that we can do at this point— go investigate ourselves. Whatever may happen, will. There isn't a better decision we can make based off of the information we have." 

On the subject of contingency plans, they paused. They kept their usual stock of supplies within their satchel, but added an extra protein bar and a small plastic waterbottle. The flashlight (they had scrubbed it clean of blood. Mostly.) was shoved into a side pouch, their only weapon. All in all, there wasn't much for Matti to have contingencies *For*. Knowing their backgrounds, the Angels likely wouldn't let them return to the vicinity of Newton's Cradles, unless they were hostages. Even that was predicated on the assumption they'd survive. 

Matti pulled out their phone to message Gabe. 

``` aletthias —Gabe D. Trahan [Link to Patreon]... 
Gabe. It's Mattias. Should you need it, try 7192 on the blue lockbox. You can do whatever you want with the contents. ```

There. Originally the box they referenced was meant for the police, should they ever look too deeply into something that got them killed. But now that they had something close to friends, the idea of handing some of their most private thoughts to a stranger felt wrong. Prickling, tacky, sticky, like old vinyl floors. They slipped the phone into their pocket and looked up to Margo. 

"We should go. Sooner rather than later. When we get there, we should try to stay a little ways apart. Makes it harder to attack us both at once, if it really is an ambush."
Timothy
◆ "Exactly." Margo grumbled. "And that's why I'm smoking one last cigarette for the road. I wouldn't be messing your room up otherwise, but... We might not be coming back."

□ That felt rather *Odd* To say. They really were walking headfirst into a disaster waiting to happen, a trip wire laid out between tufts of weeds and bushes, and with almost no certainty as to what lay on the other side.

She nodded and outed her cigarette as quickly as she'd lit it, fixing the crumpled and blackened smoke behind her ear again.

♣︎ "Let's go."♣︎

```[Roughly an hour and a half later...]```

□ The walk out had hung heavy with trepidation, nervousness, and a dash of real human fear. It was natural, wasn't it? To feel so apprehensive yet duty-bound to someone who'd probably killed more people than one could shake a stick at. It had to be, and as Margo led Matti out of the Cradle she thought back about a lot of things; the people she'd known, the friends she'd had, the experiences she'd been through, her regrets. Perhaps it was frivolous or juvenile to expect death, but she knew full well that the angels were killers, and that both her and Matti were effectively powerless against these freaks.

▪︎ Around 7AM they crossed under the big industrial park sign.

◆ "Well, we're close." Margo confirmed, reaching up and tapping a knuckle against the rusted edge of the sign. "Let's just... Take a minute and address something. There's a weird lack of cars out here, right? Especially for this time. It's like nothing wants to be here when this shit goes down... Which doesn't bode well for us, but," She looked at Matti, raising a two-finger gun to her temple and faux blowing her brains out, even adding in the sound of a gunshot the best she could with her mouth, "We're in too deep. No saving us now. Might as well keep going."
Audrey
Mattias glanced around the area where Margo stopped, hoping to find *Some* Sign of something useful. Nothing. Plus, they had a feeling that if they opened their Sight, they'd be getting much more than they bargained for. *Great. Flying essentially blind.* 

Blind, maybe, but not deaf: eight years of hypervigilance reared their head as Matti stiffened at every small sound. Wind rattling an old pipe. Animals rustling in abandoned scrap. Even the joking fire of Margo's finger-gun. They moved to step forward, to move before the fear locked their joints, but realized they had no idea where they were going. The walk up to this point had been fearful and anxiety-ridden as their mind ran through the worst-case scenarios a half step behind their partner. Instead of receding, the feelings built as Margo pointed out the lack of cars. Whatever was going to happen, the world seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation. 

They nodded, the grip on their flashlight tightening. "Lead the way."
Timothy
◇ And, so they kept on.

□ Admittedly, Margo had never played video games much, if at all, but Holly had, and so she'd at least *Seen* Them growing up. One game she'd seen had stuck with her, a series about people crawling through irradiated wastelands, and the images flashed through her head with every step, every turn of her head to make sure she wasn't going to be ran down by a ghost car or a poltergeist. It was step after after, thicket of trees after the other, following a mental map that only Margo seemed to know.

▪︎ That was just the perks of doing a lot of random reading at night.

◆ "Tsst. Mat." Margo held up a hand, also crouching down a bit. "Look, there it is. It's the tower, and..." Straining lightly, she zoomed her sight in on a particular window. "I don't know if you can see that, but there's... Some sort of glow up in the building. Could be a vagrant cooking on a propane camping stove, or it could be bored teenagers throwing molotovs around. Or, maybe it's our friend... Who knows?"
Audrey
Matti tried their best to focus, finally pocketing their glasses in concession. They'd need to be able to See, especially in high-stakes scenarios. "I can try to look, but we'd need to get closer. Do you see anything around the ground?" They flickered their eyes over the more blatant hiding spots, searching for a trace of an ambush.
Kristen
No sign of anything suspicious.
Audrey
Matti frowned as their eyes rapidly focused and unfocused. Something— the stress, probably, or maybe their power's tendency to fuck around when they needed it most— was making them fritz. They warned Margo, then paused, searching with unaided eyes. "It doesn't seem like there's anyone hiding around the base. It should— *Should*— be safe to approach. Unless they have a sniper." They looked towards Margo. "Can you make out anything else?"
Timothy
◆ "You sure?"

□ Naturally, Margo wasn't exactly buying Matti's lines. She could *See* Something flickering, cast against the window pane in yellowish light, and she could see it even as her sight naturally deteriorated out this face. Humming, she let out a long breath through her nostrils, then inhaled through her mouth. In, out... In, out...

○ After four cycles she locked her gaze on the area and clenched her fist against the ground. She stared off, and tried to perceive the truth about the phantom light.
Kristen
Margo can't see much from this distance. What she can see is Angels.
Timothy
◆ "Knew it."

□ She scowled and spat, lighting up another cigarette and fixing it betwixt her lips as she rose to her feet. Whilst zoomed in she'd seen no less than four angels in the building, cementing it as a modern Tower of Babel in her mind. Letting out a sigh, she took a step, then turned her head back to Matti. Her face showed everything she wasn't saying: fear, apprehension, and a severe case of martyrdom.

▪︎ Quite unhealthy, but in her defense she wanted to spite her father in any way possible, and dying *Before* Him was too enticing a deal to fully decline.

◆ "At least four of them." She commented as she kept on walking, waving Matti along to make sure he kept close to her. "All this time, I was hoping I could get something for defense. A gun, a knife, a loudspeaker, *Anything.* I have nothing. It's looking like the end for me, and if they get me, then... Tell Uri to contact Elias Gunnarsson. The number's written in the same journal as the care of my kids. And tell them I love them, even if he's been aggravatingly secretive the past few weeks. I'm... Just accepting that they likely want at least one of us to replace Annika's seat in their ranks. I'm sure of it. Better me than you, I think; my death takes a billionaire out of the world..."
Audrey
Mattias frowned, pulling their flashlight out of where it sat concealed inside their bag. Cockroaches crawled under their skin, sinking ropes to coil around their neck and heart. Margo sounded like she'd made her mind up to die. Like she thought it was inevitable. They were friends, they were *Partners*. They couldn't let that happen. 



"You're not going with the Angels, and you're not dying." They said it with finality, with as much authority as they didn't have. They held the flashlight out to her, the one mostly clean of blood. *Mostly*. "I killed a dog with this, once. I ripped it apart. It might work, if it's a weapon you want. And you'll probably be more proficient with it than me." 

Even so, they pulled out their phone again, just as much a stall for time as it was insurance. They quickly typed out what Margo had said verbatim, and saved the message under the instructions to give to Uriel. Then, they set the email to send to Gabe's phone— his phone number, not the intranet— in exactly 36 hours. If they weren't back by then, he'd probably need it. Matti turned back to Margo.

"Just know, don't do something stupid. I'm following you, remember? Anything that gets you killed will probably get me killed, to." They felt terrible. It was blatant manipulation. But it was true, and if it worked, it'd make Margo a little more cautious.
Timothy
◆ "We're already outnumbered four to two, and they asked for us to come alone, so... I won't be surprised if they have their whole family here." Margo plainly spoke, though her voice warbled a touch due to the very real, very nervous sort of fear that had been gnawing at the pit of her stomach since she woke up and saw that building being posted in the groupchat. "Who knows what they want with us."

□ The next couple of minutes were spent in relative silence, the only audible noises from the pair being footsteps, the clicking of flashlights, and whatever concerns Matti brought up being answered by Margo in turn. It seemed as though she wanted to stay quiet on the approach, as if reserving every milligram of power in her body for the sprint she knew she'd likely have to make.

▪︎ However, she did feel just a bit terrible about keeping Matti in the dark.

◆ "Listen." Margo spoke after a few minutes, as the pair walked through the dilapidated wrought iron gate of the complex. "If they want me, there's nothing either of us can really do, right? It's two versus fifteen, or however many angels are here. Same with you; if they decide they want you, all I can do is sign the cross and leave you for dead and hope I live to inform everyone of what happened. We're fucked no matter what if things turn sour, and... Make sure, before anything else, you get yourself the fuck out of here. I'm not taking no for an answer; someone has to relay the news. I'm not just becoming a faceless statistic, people are going to *Know* What happened to me."
Audrey
"Maybe." It was the furthest they were willing to concede. "If you die, I'll run." *Not a second before*, they didn't say. *If you die, I'll probably already be dead.* 

They shook the tendrils of anxiety from their shoulders. "What plan do we have? Are we just going to go up and talk to them? Try and bargain?"
Timothy
◆ "If." Margo scoffed. "We're more likely to be stuffed in halos than outright killed, and that's a fate worse than death, I fear."

□ She hummed and stuffed her hands on her pockets. Her heart thrashed against the inside of her chest, pounding violently as each nervous step coated in confidence carried her closer to the end of the line.

◆ "I think all we can do is see what they want, and then improvise from there. I'm... Not exactly expecting to make it, I'll be honest."

```[Five Minutes Later...]```

◇ The knot in her stomach had only grown, yet in a way she was resigned to her fate.

□ The past five minutes had been spent in trepidation and palpable nervousness, her jaw clenching itself ever tighter as she periodically zoomed in and counted more and more angels. Five, then eight, then thirteen. It was as if they were expecting an armada of the Cradle's finest parahumans instead of a pair of hellbent gumshoes who were about to find out why the old adage *Curiosity killed the cat* Was so enduring, so truthful, so accurate, and it was this mass outnumbering that really told Margo that things were about to be so much worse.

▪︎ But...? She'd already come so far. The building loomed over her head like a Zdzisław Beksiński painting, and she could feel no less than ten pairs of eyes boring into her.

○ She lit another cigarette, and with a sigh took another step.

◆ "End of the line." She commented, her voice stoic yet just a touch scared, peeking out no matter how desperately she wanted to remain strong and defiant in the face of overwhelming mind-corrupting force. "The end is nigh, man... Feels like a Beksiński painting brought to life."
Audrey
Matti masked their anxiety in the shift of movement. "Never took you for an apocalyptic," They joked, though as they looked at the tower looming above them, they couldn't help but agree. They pulled their handbook out, fingers hovering over the matches that would set the thing alight. Almost imperceptibly, they shook their head. Not yet. 

"So, we're going in then?" They felt if they waited much longer they'd either charge in by themself or turn tail and run, no matter how much they'd promised Margo to stay by her side.
Timothy
◆ "Haven't been before now," Margo shrugged, "But circumstances change a person, I guess."

□ Twenty-four hours prior, Margo had been the same as she always had, albeit tailed by the spectre of worsening cigarette addiction and mounting stresses. Now, however...? She was a facsimile of her previous self, all there physically but almost entirely detached mentally. Her jaw clenched up, and she let out a faint sigh and a Hail Mary.

▪︎ Hopefully Uri would keep up their end of the deal once this was all over with.

◆ "Jag är här." **[I'm here]** Margo called out, a fierce yell that echoed through the empty concrete halls, their wallpaper long ago applied now falling off in sheets. "Låt oss få det här överstökat, änglar, vad det än är ni har kallat oss hit för." **[Let's get this over with, Angels, whatever it is you've called us out here for.]**
Kristen
The cries reverberate feebly through the building. 

There's no one there to respond. Not really, anyway. What Margo and Mattias walk into is not a grand concrete hall or a lively hideout, but rather a stairwell of the sort you'd find in most any apartment building. 

There's an elevator shaft in the center. The button to call the elevator is still lit, shining a dim yellow light into the dark stairwell. The buildings in the industrial district never quite seem to die completely.
Audrey
Matti glanced between the elevator (the cramped, confined box with only one entrance or exit, that could easily be sabotaged to send them both plummeting to their deaths) and the stairs (energy waster, narrow to impede their fighting abilities, could be shoved over railings or pushed backwards easily resulting in major injury).

"Well, elevator or stairs? I can't say I'm particularly fond of stairs—" They didn't need Margo to tell them they weren't in good shape, not when they were keenly aware of it themself "—but tactically, they could be a better choice. If an exhausting one."
Timothy
◆ "Figures they wouldn't hear." She scowled. "They were up on, what, the thirteenth floor? Thirteen angels, thirteenth floor... Thirteen minutes until the end? There's definitely some symbolism at play here..."

□ What a weirdo. She was faced with a still-functioning elevator, its call button still faintly illuminated from behind polymer turned a shade of daffodil with age, and a dilapidated stairwell, which wasn't even guaranteed to go all the way up, and she was trying to figure out why it was thirteens across the board. Weird kid. Walking up to the stairs, she took a few steps then descended as quickly as she'd ascended, shaking her head and spitting out the remainder of her cigarette underfoot.

▪︎ She looked at Matti, then pressed the elevator button.

◆ "Stairs are a no-go, at least down here. They don't feel stable." She spoke. "And this building, as far as I could dig up online, was still maintained until around 2009, so this elevator is likely still in much better shape than the stairs. Sure, it's a bottleneck, and they might have cut the cable, but... It's our safest bet."

◇ The sound of rummaging, a flick, an exhale. Margo stepped into the elevator, and said a prayer. She figured she'd need it wherever she was going.
Audrey
"Unlucky 13," Matti murmured, stepping into the elevator next to Margo. *Ascending in order to step into hell*, they thought. *Ironic.* 

They watched Margo pray as they ran their fingers over the wall of their compartment. They felt the compulsion to do the same, but swiftly suppressed it. They didn't fear death. They couldn't. They could only find solace in the fact that when they died, it would be their time, and their work would finally be done.
Kristen
The diode-lit floor number ticked steadily up as the elevator ascended.

1. 2.

The elevator was quiet, very much so, except for the exchange of words between Mattias and Margo. None of the usual whirring or buzzing one might expect from an old elevator. Just silence.

3. 4.

The ascent seemed it would take a while.
Timothy
◇ **DING.**

■ "That's... Floor four? Maybe five. I'm not keeping track; not in a rush to get to the top." Margo grumbled, now slumped against a wall perpendicular to the sliding elevator doors. "Y'know, I hoped I'd have been able to get a gun before things came to this. Before we found ourselves out here, in a sketchy elevator, riding it to a penthouse full of God knows how many murderous brainwashed angels. I was hoping I could just... End it all with a heater, but now I'm the one getting iced." A grim laugh. "Remember, if things go south, you get the fuck out of here. Don't stop running until you're back at the Cradle, even if it kills you. They're only getting one of us, and I'll make sure of it."

◆ "Also, you should flip your sight on. Maybe you'd have more lucky now."
Audrey
Matti laughed faintly— *Heater, getting iced*— but quickly sobered under the weight of the atmosphere. They could tell Margo that they wouldn't, not for anything, leave her behind, but that wasn't what she needed to hear right now. 



"I'll try my best not to disappoint. Though there's not much I can do if I plunge through stairs that probably haunts the nightmares of OSHA." Waiting a few moments, just enough for their nerves to settle, they tried to open their Sight.
Kristen
Matti's senses unfold. The world is laid bare before him, in all of the elevator cabin's miniature glory. Every minute sound, every tiny bug on the walls, every step is clear.

The elevator's ascent continues.

5. 6.

What is also clear to Matti, very early, is that the elevator is slowing down. Nowhere near the destination floor. His senses detect a very slight shift in pressure, in balance, in the weight of his own body, and that's enough to tell.

If they act fast, Margo and Matti have a moment to react before the elevator stops.
Audrey
"Margo—" Their hand slammed flat against the side of the elevator. "—it's stopping. We're not there yet. Margo *It's stopping*." 

They pushed themself to the side, just out of the center of where the doors opened. Silently shaking. Dredging up memories of teeth and dogs and flashlights.
Timothy
◆ "What the...?"

□ Though not as in-tune with the world as her partner, Margo felt it clear as day in her chest: the elevator was slowing, past the fifth floor. At the rate things were going, she figured it'd stop somewhere around the sixth floor; but why? Had the backup generator run out of power? Or perhaps an outside source had severed the lines. Whatever the case, Margo knew that things weren't going to keep on rising much longer, and her mind snapped to action. Punching the sixth floor button, she hoped that maybe, just maybe, it'd come to a stop there and let them out.

▪︎ It was far from ideal, but maybe the stairs up this high had been spared much of the disrepair that had befallen the first floor's flight.
Kristen
The elevator rolls to a gentle stop.

**7**, the display reads, and the doors open with the metallic purr characteristic of an elevator door. Very quickly, the reason for the elevator's stop becomes apparent.

Elevators are designed to get as many people where they need to go as quickly as possible. As such, if the elevator is in motion and is called for the direction it's already moving in, it will typically stop to collect more passengers. Under normal circumstances, this saves time by "Merging" Multiple groups' travel time from floor to floor.

Under these circumstances, it allows just about anyone to intercept the motion of an elevator before it reaches its destination.

Two of the Angels are standing outside the elevator. Matti and Margo don't recognize them, but they seem to recognize Matti and Margo. Sort of.

"Margo and... Alex, presumably," One of them says. "I believe the instructions were explicit. Margo was supposed to come alone. Margo, you'll be going to the 13th floor. I see you already found it. Alex, if you'd please follow us."
Audrey
"No, no, **Fuck** That." There was a plunging sort of despair in their chest, swooping and diving like the eagle devouring Prometheus, but instead of their liver it ripped at their heart. They knew logically they shouldn't have trusted Frida. That it might have been a façade— even that she might have been captured, that the meeting may have been a set-up. But they had hoped— hoped against hope, and now that had probably led them and Margo to their graves. It was *Their fault*. Maybe these people really were angels. Maybe this anguish was their god's punishment for going against their creed. "I'm going with her. I'm not leaving. Like **Hell** I'm letting you separate us."

A loop burned under their skin. *Woods, dog, flashlight.* They bared their teeth in a mocking grin. *Try me,* It said. *Try.*
Timothy
◇ And as the elevator came to a stop at the seventh floor momentarily, Margo could already sense it.

□ Not due to her powers. If anything, she'd been hesitating to flex her parahumanity since the pair had entered the building behind the siren song of a Swedish greeting. Rather, it was an unshakable malaïse in her gut, a rolling boil that kept her every moment tense and awkward and pre-occupied with the situationally useless question of if she was about to shit herself. It wasn't important. It never was. The doors slid open, and two angels stared the pair down.

▪︎ Margo simply looked at the pair, her eyes unwavering in their ferocity, like a wary predator sizing up their territorial disputant.

◆ "You... Heard them, Alex. I'm sorry. We're in their court, we've got to play by their rules." With that, and unless Matti put up a serious fight, Margo would simply fling them from the elevator, with a huff and the flexing of arms chiseled into physiologically perfect limbs over the years, and once alone she'd hit the thirteenth button with a liberating sigh. She had nothing else to say, unless Matti continued to put up a fight.

▪︎ She expected him to, but it was a hellbound soul and two angels telling him to simply step back, and thus... How much could he really fight back?
Audrey
*No, no no no no **No**.* 

"Margo. *Please,*" Matti croaked out. They made a feeble attempt to grab onto her, but couldn't muster the strength to get a good grip. Their hands shook. Every fiber of their body was wrought with tension that rapidly faded to shivers. They'd been prepared to fight the Angels, prepared to stand at Margo's back. Instead, she'd plunged a knife into theirs. They felt sick. They felt *Sick*. They knew she wanted to help them. Protect them. Make sure she was the only one in danger. 

*But I'm **Still** In danger,* They wanted to scream. *You're leaving me alone, you're **Abandoning me.*** They watched helplessly as the doors closed, blocking Margo from their view. As the elevator hummed to life, their soul dropped to their stomach, taking all their will to fight with it.
Kristen
Aaaaaaaaaaand cliffhanger time

I'm available now if either of you wants to take it
Audrey
I can also start stuff after y'all're done / when you're free