#against the world.dir

[psychangels]

Against the World

Pressure

Libby checks her phone for the first time since she got to camp. 44 unread texts. Most of them are from Dad. The ones that aren't are from Mom. 3 missed calls; one for each day she's been here. All from Dad.

She sighs. She marks all of them as read; sends both of them a, "K;" and sets her phone aside.

No point in reading them. It's always the same needless worrying and nagging. Be careful! Be good! Have fun! Try to keep your anger in check! Don't threaten the counselors! Blah, blah, blah! Ugh.

Her fingers curl into fists. Why can't they just leave her alone? The one good thing about this dumb training camp is that it's supposed to free her from their nagging. But they just.

She punches her pillow.

Won't.

Again. It makes a soft thump.

Let.

And again.

Her!

And—she rears back, glaring at the pillow—again.

Huffing, Libby rams her face into it. She lets out a muffled scream. It's further dampened by the loud chirring of insects outside. Still, it manages to sound loud in the dark quiet of the cabin.

Then, with a frustrated grunt, she throws it across the room. It makes a quiet thud as it hits the wall. Another when it falls to the floor.

"...Libby?"

She jolts. Her head snaps in the direction of Digby's whisper.

"...What's going on?" he asks.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Digs."

There's a pause.

"M'kay...night..."

She sighs. "Night."

Crossing her arms, she waits to see if Ross will react, too.

Her fingers twitch. So does her face.

He never does. Despite that, she can't get herself to relax.

As quietly and carefully as she can while feeling as though she'll explode any second, Libby creeps out of bed.

The floorboards creak loudly. Each groan and whine only makes her scowl deepen. Her hands clench into fists. At least Digby and Ross never say anything or get up.

Pausing at the door, Libby pulls her boots on. They're rough against her skin. But it's better than walking on the dry grass barefoot.

The moon greets her as she walks out, providing her with just enough light to see. Stars twinkle overhead. Fireflies mimic them around her. A gentle breeze rustles her long hair. The bugs are even noisier now.

It's such a lovely night. Too bad she can't find it within herself to appreciate it.

Stomping along, she uses her power on all the plants nearby. The grass lengthens. Trees gain more branches, their amount of leaves doubling. Flowers bloom. Weeds properly sprout up. Brambles become thicker and thornier. Bushes get bushier. Berries sprout and ripen. Roots spread farther.

They should be thanking her. She's the only reason this camp looks as nice as it does. But no! They can't even be happy about that!

She could tear this whole place down. Make the trees bend until they break, crushing the buildings. Have the vines pull whatever's left apart. Grow the brambles so thick nobody could even try to repair any of it.

She could.

Libby pauses. Somehow, she's found her way to the lake. Right at the steps of the dock.

Brow furrowing, her shoulders rise up to her ears.

She thickens some of the grass around her, turning the thin blades into fat tendrils. They coil around the dock's supports. With a few good yanks, they tear out from under the planks above. The pieces splash as they fall into the water below. All that's left remaining is the stairs.

With a sigh, she lets the vines drop. They lie on the ground in heaps.

Then, with the tiniest of smiles on her face, Libby walks back to the cabin to get some rest.

[psychangels]

Against the World

Surface

Libby surveys the Infantry atrium. Her eyes are half-lidded.

There's Anna, Kian, Anh, Digby, and the rest of the usual suspects. They're all off doing their own thing.

She sighs. Another boring year...

...And then she notices the new person. Her eyes widen.

They're standing next to Digby. Talking to him. Something almost everyone else in the room never does unless they have to.

Unlike everyone else, they're not dressed casually. Not that they're wearing a costume—but they look...spiffy. Albeit in a worn, patchy, hand-me-down sort of way.

One brow quirked, Libby makes her way over to them.

Digby looks at her as she approaches. "Oh, hi, Libby."

"Hey, Digby."

In turn, the new kid turns to her.

She almost stumbles.

Moles. Thick, wavy, dark ginger hair. Dimples; the remnants of a great, big grin. Warm, brown eyes.

If she'd of known the new recruit was this cute, she would've actually bothered to show up when she was told to.

"You must be Hayday!" they say. Their voice is oddly raspy.

Her eyes widen a little. "Uh...yeah. Hi." She pauses for a moment before remembering to actually introduce herself. "Name's Libby, though."

"Got it." They nod solemnly. "I'm Aquamarine. My name is Roscoe—but you can call me Ross."

Her eyes narrow. Aquamarine...why does that sound familiar...?

She frowns when she notices him staring.

"...Take a picture. It'll last longer." "...Oh! Heh, sorry."

He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Um...Ross?" Digby suddenly speaks up. "Yeah?" "Can you go back to telling your story?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure! But I should probably start over if Libby wants to listen."

She looks at Digby. He looks back. There's a smile on his face; his eyes are bright.

"...Sure. Not like I have anything better to do."

Clearing his throat, Ross grins.

"It all started on a bright, sunny day..."

She quirks a brow. Not what she was expecting. Still, it probably won't be that interesting.

"...and then..."

Libby leans forward. At some point, they sat down on the floor, with her and Digby next to each other and Ross in front of them.

"...he cackled! Mwahahhaha!" Ross' raspiness helps make the laugh sound actually menacing. "And said, 'You thought you could get me monologuing, did you? Well, think again!' Before he ZAPPED them!"

Digby gasps. His eyes are wider than saucers.

Her brows fly up. Libby scoots closer.

"Everyone screamed! They flailed in agony as a hundred watts surged through their bodies!"

"Did they die?" Digby asks, voice quiet.

"Almost," he replies. "Their nerves were totally frayed; hair standing on end and singed; bodies trembling, they stood up tall together..."

Her brow furrows. "Wait. Stood up? I thought they were trapped?"

"I was getting to that!" "Oh. Sorry."

"...As I was saying, they stood up tall together...which is when he realized his fatal error! Zapping them like that caused their restraints to short circuit, freeing them! With a shout of rage, they all raced towards him and beat the shit out of him!"

Her eyes widen cartoonishly. Digby's jaw drops.

And then, she bursts out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?" Ross questions, brow furrowed.

"I...wasn't...expecting...you...to...say...that!" Libby manages to respond through her laughter.

The tension in his face dissolves. With a smile, he chuckles.

"Ahh...man...you're lucky Anh left a while ago," she says once she's stopped and caught her breath. "She would've gotten on your ass about that."

"What? Why?"

"She doesn't like it when we swear. Says we're too little for it. And it's unprofessional," Digby explains.

"Wow. Really?" Libby nods. "Yep. They're all kind of like that." "They all dislike swearing?"

"No...that they think we're too little." he frowns, his gaze falling. "We don't get to go on patrol or missions much. Just stay here and talk over comms. And, um, training. Lots and lots of it."

Ross purses his lips at that, his nose scrunching up.

"Oh, and we get to go on food and drink runs," she adds, "and play messenger! Which is always so much fun." She rolls her eyes.

"So...we don't get to do any actual hero stuff?"

"Pretty much. Unless they really need the extra power, but they don't wanna send in the big guns."

"...Oh."

He looks away. Crossing his arms, his brow furrows. All the energy in his eyes from earlier is gone now.

"...Er...sorry." She averts her gaze. "But it's better we broke it to you. It's not like anybody else is gonna tell you. They'd rather keep you hoping, when really all it is is that they're waiting for your fourteenth birthday or...whatever."

"...It's...it's okay. Thanks for telling me." "Yeah. Sure."

A few moments of silence pass.

Standing up, Ross offers them both a weak smile and a hand.

"I know we just met and all, but...well, at least we're all in it together. Right?"

Her brows go up. Digby's mouth opens slightly. They glance at one another.

Matching smiles on their faces, they each take one of his hands.

"Right." "Mhm."

He grins. Pulling them to their feet, he squeezes their hands.

[psychangels]

Digby checks his phone twice a day at camp. Once when he wakes up, and again before bed.

His second day there, he finds a new text from Sloane in the morning waiting for him.

hey d!! hope training's going ok. love uuu <3 <3 <3

He smiles.

its fine. same as always. love you too sis. hows interragatians going?

She won't respond until later. That's how it always is. Lots of things to do and all. Can't say the same for himself...but at least camp is better than actual fieldwork.

...If she heard him say that, she'd disagree. But that's only because her power is actually useful. And she forgets what it was like to be overwhelmed by it.

When she'd had her trigger event, it was rough. She wouldn't come out of her room. Digby would bring her meals and water. Mom and Dad would've, but they were too much for her, their emotions so heightened. He was the only person she could handle being around.

She'd told him as much one afternoon. He had asked why only he was allowed. It all had come rushing out, alongside tears. Then, she made him pinky promise not to tell Mom and Dad.

Back then, he hadn't understood why she hid it. But...he does now.

Frowning, he sets his phone aside.

"What's up, Digs?" Libby asks, keeping his thoughts from lingering on the matter.

"Oh, um, I just got a text from Sloane."

A loud, hot feeling is coming from her. "Did she say something?"

He blinks. Opens his mouth—then closes it as he realizes what she means. He shakes his head.

Her eyes narrow. Then, her face relaxes. The intense energy calms down.

"Good. 'Cause if she did..." She trails off, and gently punches her hand.

"...What's going on...?" Ross asks as he sits up in his bed. He yawns loudly.

She looks Digby in the eye. Soft, but cool.

"Just got a text from my sister is all. Libby was asking about it."

He blinks blearily at them. His head falls forward. Cold; heavy. Reaching up, he rubs at his eyes. He yawns again.

"Oh. Cool."

Digby's brow furrows.

"...Anyways. We gotta get going. Training's gonna start soon, and the sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can hang out and do whatever," Libby says.

He simply nods. Ross hums.

That night, as he lies down, Digby does his routine check for messages. And, as per usual, there's replies for him.

it's going great! always fun to watch em squirm lmao

how's libby and the new kid btw?? they keeping u entertained?

He sighs.

theyre okay. i like ross. hes nice. i think yuo would like him. we played tag and hide n seek after training today.

There's nothing for him to say to her first text. Nothing nice, at least.

He loves her, but...sometimes...

Setting his phone aside, he pulls his blanket up over his head. He shuts his eyes. And sighs again.

It's not fair. That she gets to use her power for good. That her's doesn't hurt other people. That she's never had to worry about killing anybody—about murdering her friends and family accidentally.

It's not fair that just because she's a hero, he has to be, too. He just wanted to be a normal kid. To go to school. Not have to fight bad guys. Not have to be afraid of hurting the people he cares about. Not have to deal with knowing what everybody else feels all the time.

Sniffling, he buries his head in his pillow.

It's not fair...it's just not...

Against the World

Pressure

Libby checks her phone for the first time since she got to camp. 44 unread texts. Most of them are from Dad. The ones that aren't are from Mom. 3 missed calls; one for each day she's been here. All from Dad.

She sighs. She marks all of them as read; sends both of them a, "K;" and sets her phone aside.

No point in reading them. It's always the same needless worrying and nagging. Be careful! Be good! Have fun! Try to keep your anger in check! Don't threaten the counselors! Blah, blah, blah! Ugh.

Her fingers curl into fists. Why can't they just leave her alone? The one good thing about this dumb training camp is that it's supposed to free her from their nagging. But they just.

She punches her pillow.

Won't.

Again. It makes a soft thump.

Let.

And again.

Her!

And—she rears back, glaring at the pillow—again.

Huffing, Libby rams her face into it. She lets out a muffled scream. It's further dampened by the loud chirring of insects outside. Still, it manages to sound loud in the dark quiet of the cabin.

Then, with a frustrated grunt, she throws it across the room. It makes a quiet thud as it hits the wall. Another when it falls to the floor.

"...Libby?"

She jolts. Her head snaps in the direction of Digby's whisper.

"...What's going on?" he asks.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Digs."

There's a pause.

"M'kay...night..."

She sighs. "Night."

Crossing her arms, she waits to see if Ross will react, too.

Her fingers twitch. So does her face.

He never does. Despite that, she can't get herself to relax.

As quietly and carefully as she can while feeling as though she'll explode any second, Libby creeps out of bed.

The floorboards creak loudly. Each groan and whine only makes her scowl deepen. Her hands clench into fists. At least Digby and Ross never say anything or get up.

Pausing at the door, Libby pulls her boots on. They're rough against her skin. But it's better than walking on the dry grass barefoot.

The moon greets her as she walks out, providing her with just enough light to see. Stars twinkle overhead. Fireflies mimic them around her. A gentle breeze rustles her long hair. The bugs are even noisier now.

It's such a lovely night. Too bad she can't find it within herself to appreciate it.

Stomping along, she uses her power on all the plants nearby. The grass lengthens. Trees gain more branches, their amount of leaves doubling. Flowers bloom. Weeds properly sprout up. Brambles become thicker and thornier. Bushes get bushier. Berries sprout and ripen. Roots spread farther.

They should be thanking her. She's the only reason this camp looks as nice as it does. But no! They can't even be happy about that!

She could tear this whole place down. Make the trees bend until they break, crushing the buildings. Have the vines pull whatever's left apart. Grow the brambles so thick nobody could even try to repair any of it.

She could.

Libby pauses. Somehow, she's found her way to the lake. Right at the steps of the dock.

Brow furrowing, her shoulders rise up to her ears.

She thickens some of the grass around her, turning the thin blades into fat tendrils. They coil around the dock's supports. With a few good yanks, they tear out from under the planks above. The pieces splash as they fall into the water below. All that's left remaining is the stairs.

With a sigh, she lets the vines drop. They lie on the ground in heaps.

Then, with the tiniest of smiles on her face, Libby walks back to the cabin to get some rest.

[psychangels]

Digby doesn't hate training days. But he doesn't like them. 'Cause they're always the same. Just focusing on using his power without hurting anyone.

Right now, he's reading Libby's emotions. She's full of a fiery energy. Plants coil around her, lifting her into the air. With a flick of her wrist, some vines fly towards a dummy across the room. They strike it, making it topple to the floor. And then they keep going, until every dummy is down.

Normally, she's more...um...dour? He thinks that's the right word. And bored. She once told him she thought all the training they do is pointless.

"But it's supposed to make us better," he'd said.

"Yeah, but what's the point if we never actually get to do anything?"

He hadn't had an argument for that. He still doesn't.

But despite that, she's really giving it her all today.

Tilting his head, he picks up on another feeling. His eyes widen as he realizes what exactly it is.

Turning his focus to Ross, he concentrates on him. Libby's energy fades from his senses, and Ross' calmer feelings take their place.

He's watching Libby, eyes wide and sparkling. A toothy grin is on his face. Not training like he's supposed to be. Doesn't seem to want to; he'd rather watch her. Can't exactly blame him.

They're both feeling the same thing, though. It's a soft, warm, sort of...uh...shy one. Easily recognizable.

Huh.

Digby's not really surprised. Not by that, at least.

"Ross?"

He almost immediately looks at him as he replies; "Yeah?"

"How come you're not training?"

Something flickers. Cold. Heavy. Ross' eyes darken a little.

"Oh. Uh. Well." He looks at the floor. "I...I can't."

"Why not?"

"There's...something I need. Without it, I can't use my power."

Oh. That makes sense. But then...

"Why don't you have it?"

"It's not something I can just...bring with me wherever I go."

Ah. Digby nods.

"They told me they'd get it sorted, so I should be able to start training soon! But for now, I'll just watch you guys."

"M'kay."

Something like a firework going off. Ross' eyes widen. Then, as warmth rushes in, he smiles.

It's all easy to map out. Simple as breathing. It's just as easy to not fiddle with the feelings. No heads will burst in here. Not today.

If it were anyone other than Libby and Ross, that'd be different. Not 'cause he wants to hurt and kill everybody else. It's just...harder to not. They're all so overwhelming. Turning their emotions up to 11 is second nature; a response he can't help.

Looking away with a frown, he sighs. Digby wishes he could. But he just...doesn't know how. He has to learn to. Somehow.

So he's here again. Doing pointless training.

Ross gently grabs his hand, offering him a smile when their eyes meet.

Warm. Soft. Sort of shy.

Oh.

Digby gives him a wobbly smile in return.

...Maybe pointless training isn't so bad.

Against the World

Libby surveys the Infantry atrium. Her eyes are half-lidded.

There's Anna, Kian, Anh, Digby, and the rest of the usual suspects. They're all off doing their own thing.

She sighs. Another boring year...

...And then she notices the new person. Her eyes widen.

They're standing next to Digby. Talking to him. Something almost everyone else in the room never does unless they have to.

Unlike everyone else, they're not dressed casually. Not that they're wearing a costume—but they look...spiffy. Albeit in a worn, patchy, hand-me-down sort of way.

One brow quirked, Libby makes her way over to them.

Digby looks at her as she approaches. "Oh, hi, Libby."

"Hey, Digby."

In turn, the new kid turns to her.

She almost stumbles.

Moles. Thick, wavy, dark ginger hair. Dimples; the remnants of a great, big grin. Warm, brown eyes.

If she'd of known the new recruit was this cute, she would've actually bothered to show up when she was told to.

"You must be Hayday!" they say. Their voice is oddly raspy.

Her eyes widen a little. "Uh...yeah. Hi." She pauses for a moment before remembering to actually introduce herself. "Name's Libby, though."

"Got it." They nod solemnly. "I'm Aquamarine. My name is Roscoe—but you can call me Ross."

Her eyes narrow. Aquamarine...why does that sound familiar...?

She frowns when she notices him staring.

"...Take a picture. It'll last longer." "...Oh! Heh, sorry."

He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Um...Ross?" Digby suddenly speaks up. "Yeah?" "Can you go back to telling your story?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure! But I should probably start over if Libby wants to listen."

She looks at Digby. He looks back. There's a smile on his face; his eyes are bright.

"...Sure. Not like I have anything better to do."

Clearing his throat, Ross grins.

"It all started on a bright, sunny day..."

She quirks a brow. Not what she was expecting. Still, it probably won't be that interesting.

"...and then..."

Libby leans forward. At some point, they sat down on the floor, with her and Digby next to each other and Ross in front of them.

"...he cackled! Mwahahhaha!" Ross' raspiness helps make the laugh sound actually menacing. "And said, 'You thought you could get me monologuing, did you? Well, think again!' Before he ZAPPED them!"

Digby gasps. His eyes are wider than saucers.

Her brows fly up. Libby scoots closer.

"Everyone screamed! They flailed in agony as a hundred watts surged through their bodies!"

"Did they die?" Digby asks, voice quiet.

"Almost," he replies. "Their nerves were totally frayed; hair standing on end and singed; bodies trembling, they stood up tall together..."

Her brow furrows. "Wait. Stood up? I thought they were trapped?"

"I was getting to that!" "Oh. Sorry."

"...As I was saying, they stood up tall together...which is when he realized his fatal error! Zapping them like that caused their restraints to short circuit, freeing them! With a shout of rage, they all raced towards him and beat the shit out of him!"

Her eyes widen cartoonishly. Digby's jaw drops.

And then, she bursts out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?" Ross questions, brow furrowed.

"I...wasn't...expecting...you...to...say...that!" Libby manages to respond through her laughter.

The tension in his face dissolves. With a smile, he chuckles.

"Ahh...man...you're lucky Anh left a while ago," she says once she's stopped and caught her breath. "She would've gotten on your ass about that."

"What? Why?"

"She doesn't like it when we swear. Says we're too little for it. And it's unprofessional," Digby explains.

"Wow. Really?" Libby nods. "Yep. They're all kind of like that." "They all dislike swearing?"

"No...that they think we're too little." he frowns, his gaze falling. "We don't get to go on patrol or missions much. Just stay here and talk over comms. And, um, training. Lots and lots of it."

Ross purses his lips at that, his nose scrunching up.

"Oh, and we get to go on food and drink runs," she adds, "and play messenger! Which is always so much fun." She rolls her eyes.

"So...we don't get to do any actual hero stuff?"

"Pretty much. Unless they really need the extra power, but they don't wanna send in the big guns."

"...Oh."

He looks away. Crossing his arms, his brow furrows. All the energy in his eyes from earlier is gone now.

"...Er...sorry." She averts her gaze. "But it's better we broke it to you. It's not like anybody else is gonna tell you. They'd rather keep you hoping, when really all it is is that they're waiting for your fourteenth birthday or...whatever."

"...It's...it's okay. Thanks for telling me." "Yeah. Sure."

A few moments of silence pass.

Standing up, Ross offers them both a weak smile and a hand.

"I know we just met and all, but...well, at least we're all in it together. Right?"

Her brows go up. Digby's mouth opens slightly. They glance at one another.

Matching smiles on their faces, they each take one of his hands.

"Right." "Mhm."

He grins. Pulling them to their feet, he squeezes their hands.

[psychangels]

When they told Roscoe they'd 'get it sorted,' he didn't think that meant they'd create a lake for him. He'd figured they'd make a swimming pool, or just take him to a body of water somewhere relatively close by. Not make a lake.

They finished the dock just this morning. The wood is bright and unscarred. Water laps at the supports. Water that is...shockingly clear. Almost like it is a pool. The bottom is deprived of any plant life, adding to the unnatural, pool-like state. There are no fish. No frogs. Dragonflies aren't darting about just above the surface. There's no cattails to sway in the wind. It's so...still.

He crosses his arms. Chewing on his lip, he stares at the 'lake.'

This all feels wrong.

From the moment he got to the training camp, he's felt this way. He tried to just shake it off. Just 'cause it looks like a summer camp doesn't mean it is one, he told himself. This is serious cape training!

And now there's a lake. With a dock. Not quite as rickety, and certainly not old, but it is wooden.

Just like Sunny Meadows.

Roscoe clenches his jaw. His breaths are getting shorter.

Shutting his eyes, he tries to take a deep breath. It's okay. This isn't camp. Well, it is, but he's not back there. Barney and Louie aren't here. It's just him, Libby, Digby, and the counselors. Nobody who would hurt or mess with him.

It's fine. This is fine. He's fine.

"...Ross?"

He jolts. Turning around, he offers Digby and Libby a weak, sheepish smile.

"Oh! Hey guys! When did you get here?"

"Like, a minute ago. But we've watched you stand here, staring, for a little while now." Libby crosses her arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I was just thinking. That's all."

Digby frowns. "About what?"

"...How...weird it is that it's just us at this big camp," Roscoe lies. "Seems like there should be a lot more people here."

Libby narrows her eyes. Digby blinks.

"...Yeah, I guess it would seem weird since you're not used to it yet," she says after a moment.

"We're the only ones here 'cause they need the others closer by for patrols," he explains. "And they don't take non-Infantry kids to this one. 'Cause of me."

"Oh. That makes sense."

A few moments pass. The silence is filled by the chirring of bugs.

Tilting her head, Libby looks at something past Roscoe. Most likely the lake. She quirks a brow.

"That's new."

"What is?"

"The lake, Digs."

"Oh. Yeah. When'd that get there?"

"They finished it today," he explains.

"Hm. Why'd they even add one?"

"Um..."

He looks away. He knows he should just tell them. They'll either figure it out, or find out during training eventually. But he can't get himself to say it. The words are caught in his throat.

"...For Ross," Digby states.

His eyes widen. Libby's do, too.

"Wait. So that's what it is! Your power's water-based!"

...Of course they'd figure it out now. They're so smart. And he's so...

Her speaking interrupts his train of thought. "Well? Are you gonna show us?"

"R-Right now?"

"Yeah!"

"...I don't mind waiting," Digby says softly.

"Oh, come on! I know you wanna see how strong he is, too."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

Roscoe fidgets with his gloves.

"It's just..."

He takes a deep breath.

"Just what? Spit it out already!"

Standing up tall, he steels himself.

"I don't know..."

I can do this. I can do this.

"Okay," Roscoe declares.

They both look at him.

Then, Libby beams. Grabbing his and Digby's hands, she tugs them both toward the lake. His face heats up a little.

The two follow her with no protest. Though, as they climb up the docks steps, he starts to tremble.

He swallows the lump forming in his throat. His gaze is on the planks beneath them.

The water laps against the edges of the wood. It shouldn't be high enough to do that. It wasn't only a few minutes ago. Neither of them seem to notice, however.

Stopping near the end, Libby lets go of them. She turns to look at Roscoe, her blue eyes wide and shimmering. That great big grin is still on her face.

Digby's brow is furrowed. He's frowning, grey gaze zeroed in on Roscoe.

Oddly, he starts to feel a little calmer. Must be part of Digby's power. Or maybe them just being there is helping.

"Come on! What're you waiting for?"

"...It's called building anticipation," he lies. "Y'know, to, uh, make it more dramatic."

"Dramatic schramatic!" she huffs.

"Okay, okay..."

He breathes in slowly. And turns to face the lake.

It rises easily. Roscoe barely has to think about it.

Breath caught in his chest, he tries to form it into a hand.

It shifts, making a blocky palm. Dripping fingers emerge from it, quickly followed by a thumb. The digits wiggle. Then, he has them curl in, watching as they merge into one mass again for a moment, before they uncurl.

Libby gasps. Digby is quiet.

His chest feels tight. Slowly, he lets out the air he's been holding in.

The hand waves at them. It comes closer, reaching for the three of them. As it approaches, its massive size becomes clearer than the water it's made of.

Roscoe doesn't feel afraid anymore. Even as it stops right at the edge of the dock, towering over them. Yet, he's shaking like a leaf.

It's okay. I'm okay. I can do this. There's no reason to be scared. I shouldn't be. I was doing better. It's just...this is so similar to...

"Uh...Ross...?"

Why'd they have to make this place like a summer camp? Why not have it be like HQ?

"Ross..."

They should've just built me a pool. I can handle pools. I...I can handle lakes. But...I just...it's so...just like...

"Roscoe!"

"Huh?"

Libby grabbed onto his arms, pinning them to his sides at some point. She's up in his face. Her eyes are wide, and her brow's furrowed.

Digby is standing nearby, staring. There's a frown on his face.

The sudden sound of sloshing and splashing as the swirling ring of water that had formed around them falls makes him jolt.

"...S-Sorry. I, uh...I..."

"Are you okay?"

"...Yeah. I just got lost in thought. Don't worry!"

He musters up what he hopes is a convincing smile.

She narrows her eyes. Digby moves closer, his frown deepening.

After a moment, Libby releases him. She doesn't back away, however. Instead, she grabs his hand. Digby follows her lead by taking his other.

"I've had enough of this dumb lake. C'mon, let's go hang out in the lodge."

"M'kay," Digby says.

"Oh. Uh, o-okay. Sure."

She leads the way, tugging him along after. He numbly follows her lead.

Her grip on him is tight. Like she's trying to put pressure on a wound. Digby's is gentler, but still firm. Grounding. Calming.

Roscoe takes a deep breath.

He's okay. After all, he's got them.

Against the World

Libby surveys the Infantry atrium. Her eyes are half-lidded.

There's Anna, Kian, Anh, Digby, and the rest of the usual suspects. They're all off doing their own thing.

She sighs. Another boring year...

...And then she notices the new person. Her eyes widen.

They're standing next to Digby. Talking to him. Something almost everyone else in the room never does unless they have to.

Unlike everyone else, they're not dressed casually. Not that they're wearing a costume—but they look...spiffy. Albeit in a worn, patchy, hand-me-down sort of way.

One brow quirked, Libby makes her way over to them.

Digby looks at her as she approaches. "Oh, hi, Libby."

"Hey, Digby."

In turn, the new kid turns to her.

She almost stumbles.

Moles. Thick, wavy, dark ginger hair. Dimples; the remnants of a great, big grin. Warm, brown eyes.

If she'd of known the new recruit was this cute, she would've actually bothered to show up when she was told to.

"You must be Hayday!" they say. Their voice is oddly raspy.

Her eyes widen a little. "Uh...yeah. Hi." She pauses for a moment before remembering to actually introduce herself. "Name's Libby, though."

"Got it." They nod solemnly. "I'm Aquamarine. My name is Roscoe—but you can call me Ross."

Her eyes narrow. Aquamarine...why does that sound familiar...?

She frowns when she notices him staring.

"...Take a picture. It'll last longer." "...Oh! Heh, sorry."

He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Um...Ross?" Digby suddenly speaks up. "Yeah?" "Can you go back to telling your story?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure! But I should probably start over if Libby wants to listen."

She looks at Digby. He looks back. There's a smile on his face; his eyes are bright.

"...Sure. Not like I have anything better to do."

Clearing his throat, Ross grins.

"It all started on a bright, sunny day..."

She quirks a brow. Not what she was expecting. Still, it probably won't be that interesting.

"...and then..."

Libby leans forward. At some point, they sat down on the floor, with her and Digby next to each other and Ross in front of them.

"...he cackled! Mwahahhaha!" Ross' raspiness helps make the laugh sound actually menacing. "And said, 'You thought you could get me monologuing, did you? Well, think again!' Before he ZAPPED them!"

Digby gasps. His eyes are wider than saucers.

Her brows fly up. Libby scoots closer.

"Everyone screamed! They flailed in agony as a hundred watts surged through their bodies!"

"Did they die?" Digby asks, voice quiet.

"Almost," he replies. "Their nerves were totally frayed; hair standing on end and singed; bodies trembling, they stood up tall together..."

Her brow furrows. "Wait. Stood up? I thought they were trapped?"

"I was getting to that!" "Oh. Sorry."

"...As I was saying, they stood up tall together...which is when he realized his fatal error! Zapping them like that caused their restraints to short circuit, freeing them! With a shout of rage, they all raced towards him and beat the shit out of him!"

Her eyes widen cartoonishly. Digby's jaw drops.

And then, she bursts out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?" Ross questions, brow furrowed.

"I...wasn't...expecting...you...to...say...that!" Libby manages to respond through her laughter.

The tension in his face dissolves. With a smile, he chuckles.

"Ahh...man...you're lucky Anh left a while ago," she says once she's stopped and caught her breath. "She would've gotten on your ass about that."

"What? Why?"

"She doesn't like it when we swear. Says we're too little for it. And it's unprofessional," Digby explains.

"Wow. Really?" Libby nods. "Yep. They're all kind of like that." "They all dislike swearing?"

"No...that they think we're too little." he frowns, his gaze falling. "We don't get to go on patrol or missions much. Just stay here and talk over comms. And, um, training. Lots and lots of it."

Ross purses his lips at that, his nose scrunching up.

"Oh, and we get to go on food and drink runs," she adds, "and play messenger! Which is always so much fun." She rolls her eyes.

"So...we don't get to do any actual hero stuff?"

"Pretty much. Unless they really need the extra power, but they don't wanna send in the big guns."

"...Oh."

He looks away. Crossing his arms, his brow furrows. All the energy in his eyes from earlier is gone now.

"...Er...sorry." She averts her gaze. "But it's better we broke it to you. It's not like anybody else is gonna tell you. They'd rather keep you hoping, when really all it is is that they're waiting for your fourteenth birthday or...whatever."

"...It's...it's okay. Thanks for telling me." "Yeah. Sure."

A few moments of silence pass.

Standing up, Ross offers them both a weak smile and a hand.

"I know we just met and all, but...well, at least we're all in it together. Right?"

Her brows go up. Digby's mouth opens slightly. They glance at one another.

Matching smiles on their faces, they each take one of his hands.

"Right." "Mhm."

He grins. Pulling them to their feet, he squeezes their hands.

[psychangels]

Roscoe doesn't check his phone. There's nothing to check for. Not since he left home, and his old phone behind.

He puts Dad's number in. Stares at it. His thumb hovers over the call button.

A few moments pass.

He backspaces and turns it off.

Tucking it into his pocket, he walks back over to where Libby, Digby, and him have been training. The former is too busy vine whipping the training dummies to notice his return. The latter immediately looks up at him.

"What're you doing?" he asks.

"Just...taking a break. My power can be...uh...exhausting sometimes."

"Oh. Yeah. I get it."

Roscoe sits down next to him. Digby leans into his side, wrapping one of his arm's around his. The corners of Roscoe's mouth quirk up a little. He tilts his head down so that it's resting on top of his.

Quietly, they watch Libby train.

The counselors keep giving Roscoe funny looks. Reminds him of how Fabian would look at him. Judgemental. Disgusted. Hateful.

His skin crawls.

"...Quit staring, you assholes!" Libby shouts.

Their eyes widen—and then they look away to focus on her.

One of them—Bob—says, "You shouldn—"

"Shut up. Don't care. We've been over this a thousand times, and it's never gonna work! So just shut it!"

His jaw clicks shut. Scowling, he turns and walks away. The other counselors follow.

A moment passes.

"...Thanks," Roscoe says.

"No problem. If they keep being dicks, lemme know."

He smiles. "I will."

Checking the calendar to find it's Sunday, Roscoe starts gathering up his dirty clothes. In the midst of adding a pair of socks to the pile, he stops.

...There's no reason for him to do this. Nana and Mom aren't here to do laundry. He's not even sure if there's any kind of washer or dryer out here, anyway. Not that that ever stopped them...

His vision gets blurry. He sniffles.

"...Ross?"

Jolting, he drops the socks. Tears slide down his face as he hurriedly goes to pick them up with trembling hands.

"Y-Yeah?" he asks. He cringes as his voice cracks.

There's a brief moment of silence. Just long enough for him to add his socks to the pile of clothes.

"Do you know where the machines are?" Libby asks.

He swallows the lump forming in his throat.

"...No..."

"I'll show you. We should probably do our laundry, too, anyways. Right, Digs?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. Uh, th-thanks."

"Sure. We both know this place like the back of our hand, so..."

"Mhm. Just ask if you need to know where anything is," Digby says.

"I...I will."

Wiping away his tears, Roscoe smiles weakly.

Against the World

Pressure

Libby checks her phone for the first time since she got to camp. 44 unread texts. Most of them are from Dad. The ones that aren't are from Mom. 3 missed calls; one for each day she's been here. All from Dad.

She sighs. She marks all of them as read; sends both of them a, "K;" and sets her phone aside.

No point in reading them. It's always the same needless worrying and nagging. Be careful! Be good! Have fun! Try to keep your anger in check! Don't threaten the counselors! Blah, blah, blah! Ugh.

Her fingers curl into fists. Why can't they just leave her alone? The one good thing about this dumb training camp is that it's supposed to free her from their nagging. But they just.

She punches her pillow.

Won't.

Again. It makes a soft thump.

Let.

And again.

Her!

And—she rears back, glaring at the pillow—again.

Huffing, Libby rams her face into it. She lets out a muffled scream. It's further dampened by the loud chirring of insects outside. Still, it manages to sound loud in the dark quiet of the cabin.

Then, with a frustrated grunt, she throws it across the room. It makes a quiet thud as it hits the wall. Another when it falls to the floor.

"...Libby?"

She jolts. Her head snaps in the direction of Digby's whisper.

"...What's going on?" he asks.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Digs."

There's a pause.

"M'kay...night..."

She sighs. "Night."

Crossing her arms, she waits to see if Ross will react, too.

Her fingers twitch. So does her face.

He never does. Despite that, she can't get herself to relax.

As quietly and carefully as she can while feeling as though she'll explode any second, Libby creeps out of bed.

The floorboards creak loudly. Each groan and whine only makes her scowl deepen. Her hands clench into fists. At least Digby and Ross never say anything or get up.

Pausing at the door, Libby pulls her boots on. They're rough against her skin. But it's better than walking on the dry grass barefoot.

The moon greets her as she walks out, providing her with just enough light to see. Stars twinkle overhead. Fireflies mimic them around her. A gentle breeze rustles her long hair. The bugs are even noisier now.

It's such a lovely night. Too bad she can't find it within herself to appreciate it.

Stomping along, she uses her power on all the plants nearby. The grass lengthens. Trees gain more branches, their amount of leaves doubling. Flowers bloom. Weeds properly sprout up. Brambles become thicker and thornier. Bushes get bushier. Berries sprout and ripen. Roots spread farther.

They should be thanking her. She's the only reason this camp looks as nice as it does. But no! They can't even be happy about that!

She could tear this whole place down. Make the trees bend until they break, crushing the buildings. Have the vines pull whatever's left apart. Grow the brambles so thick nobody could even try to repair any of it.

She could.

Libby pauses. Somehow, she's found her way to the lake. Right at the steps of the dock.

Brow furrowing, her shoulders rise up to her ears.

She thickens some of the grass around her, turning the thin blades into fat tendrils. They coil around the dock's supports. With a few good yanks, they tear out from under the planks above. The pieces splash as they fall into the water below. All that's left remaining is the stairs.

With a sigh, she lets the vines drop. They lie on the ground in heaps.

Then, with the tiniest of smiles on her face, Libby walks back to the cabin to get some rest.