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The feline never met the child to mourn near them. While his back is turned his eye never left Liliath, watching as life slowly slips away from her young, mortal body. He snapped his gaze away and rubbed his neck, already feeling exhausted. The sadness and grief the people around him emanates affected him, and he too felt their loss.

This sucked, but he knew he couldn't do anything nor do something to help her. Everyone dies, even children. What he didn't understand is the why of it. Why is she left here? A warning? A sign? A mistake? The smell of fresh blood and salty tears interrupts his senses. He wou— what did she just say?

"Seo? That brat?" Bronze exclaimed in disbelief, completely breaking his "cover" by staying quiet.

"We now know the muderer, then? And it is not the beast but another survivor?" Niskali asks, voice oddly cal-- no, not calm. Cold. As cold as deep space, if not even more frigid.

"Then we will find her, and for her cowardice in slaying a child, my blade will send her to the Cryu-Dzien. May her soul burn as fuel in the goddess's engines once I do so," he vows, voice filled with an indescribable tranquil fury.

Raven gapes at Liliath as the child heaves her last breath, barely processing this revelation. "Seo? She k...she..." A guttural growl rises in the cat's throat and she forgets about running her mouth. She flexes her claws, hoping Niskali will let her get a blow in before he tears the brat apart.

Lisa listens in stunned silence, shuddering at Niskali's tranquil fury and Raven's low snarl. Both of their reactions scare her for opposite reasons, and as she carefully lays Liliath's cold, still hands across her chest, she murmurs to Raven, "Remember what our enemy can do."

Raven snaps at her, bristling. "I don't care if it was the shapeshifter or the real Seo; I'm gonna claw her eyes out."

Lisa snaps her mouth shut, swallowing. A huge part of her feels exactly the same way, but going on a manhunt with murderous rage at the front of their minds will end in disaster, especially for someone as unjustifiably reckless as her familiar.

"In time," Niskali says, his voice still that bitter arctic cold, eyes narrow beneath the frozen silver visage of his mask, "While we all would seek her death by our hands, blades or claws, what we seek in the end is her death. I suspect this place will bring that plenty quickly, one way or the other. And if not? We prepare. We focus. A true warrior is not guided by rage, but by wisdom. Let us not strike with the fire of anger, but the confidence brought by patient meditation."

Vincent crawls toward the shattered window, body low to avoid being seen. It listens to the ensuing conversation as joy fills its heart to bursting. So much fun, to hear them cry and rage at the death of the innocent, and although it didn't have to lift a claw to send a spark, it would be so easy to fan the flames into a raging bonfire.

"All I have to do is let them know we're here, hiding," it hisses to Seo. "What do you sssay? Feel like meeting the business end of the dragon'sss blade?"

Helynah thinks for a moment and mutters something to explain that she can probably take a door off the hinges. She doesn't ask Victi why; the vixen's condition makes her concerns obvious.

"If it isn't too much trouble, can you show me which room's not been checked?"

"I do have a reason for standing despite having left a bunch of paw-skin on the evidence room's floor," she replies slightly snarkily, "It's like walking on hot gravel... anyway, down here."

She walks toward the hallway with the cells and other room somewhat gingerly, hoping those stupid painkillers would kick in. Assuming they were even compatible with her biochemistry.

I suppose no one could be trusted. The feline thought darkly, his footsteps leading him away from the others to see if he could think clearer. One more thing that he could think of right now is if 'survivor's could kill each other, is this Vincent that they're so afraid of also one? Is the actual goal to kill all survivors and be the last man standing?

Bronze sighed, shaking his head. If so, then why are people still popping up? Or was he unluckily the last? His tail lashed in annoyance. He needs answers to get out of here, and this place couldn't even provide any. He have to talk to someone who at least knows something.

"In time," Raven muses. "The sooner the time, the better." She takes one last look at Liliath's face. In death, her expression marking her pallid cheeks is one of calm, of relief. At least they can all take some level of comfort in the fact that Little isn't hurting anymore.

Probably.

She tears her eyes away from the body and searches for something to pay attention to. She sees Bronze, skulking off into the darkness. This raises some suspicions, but she refrains from acting on them in favor of finally, finally comforting her mistress. She shoves her rage to some spot in the back of her mind and summons a weak purr. Lisa places a weary hand on the cat's back and strokes her matted fur. Raven takes this opportunity to assess Liz's demeanor.

Unsurprisingly, she's a total mess. Back hunched. Eyes hollow and bloodshot, her gaze unfocused. She stares at Liliath's corpse without really looking at anything in particular. Most likely, she's lost in a twisted thought spiral and seconds away from a panic attack. Whether that judgment is right or not, Raven nudges her hand out of the way and climbs into her lap, giving Lisa something to keep herself grounded.

Helynah grimaces at the analogy. "Maybe you could just point me the- nevermind." As Victi tip-toes painfully down the hall, Helynah follows, mentally bracing herself for what evidence might remain in that room.

Vincent follows Bronze's movement with its eyeless head. "Hmm..." A new face, sort of. Looking a little lost, a little terrified. Perhaps it should go alleviate some of Bronze's fear or at least figure out what's going on in that scaredy-cat brain of his. Vincent casts a grin in Seo's direction, leaving her to wonder what it plans to do, then it slinks outside through an employees-only back door, to meet the mammalian without alerting the rest of the party.

"Pain tells me I'm either still alive or that I succeeded in making a god personally hate me, so it's fine," Victi says with a slightly pained laugh, "That, and I'd get bored just waiting. The cells we can just see into, so yeah, this room. Or, well, I assume this room."

Clearing his throat, he sheathed his rapier and scratched the back of his head. The feline sat down on the pavement, but is still on his feet. Bronze stared at a wall, his arms crossed above his knees and his face wearing a vacant expression.

Death lurks at this very place. What happens to the people who die here? Where does their soul go? He casted his gaze heavenward after he threw himself that question, facing nothing but emptiness. A cold reminder that he has to get out of this place.

As his train of thought goes, he asked himself again what this place is and why is it made, yet the lack of answers irritates him.

Commotion! Noise! Anger! From enemies? Mother's hated? Not yet, just fur-thing. But Mother's Hated wears every face. Every face. Carries something smelly. Hated hides scent. Hated? Hiding as fur thing? Examine? Find Hated! Kill for Mother!

[The buzzing bursters have found the group.... or at least Bronze so far. They stare at him from a nearby roof, their antenae waggling as they try thinking about going down to smell him better past the perfume-filled water gun's stench. This is a complicated plan for them. It may take a minute for them to work it out all the way.]

Vincent closely watches Bronze's gestures, observing his despondent face, his gaze cast skyward, and his well-hidden frustration. It very nearly steps into the light, unconcerned with the rest of the group until a cautious glance up reveals the twitching antennae and translucent, flickering wings. It hisses quietly with contempt. Those creatures, most annoying creatures. It'd scamper up there and kill them now if not for the fact that their bloated bellies brimmed with something that's likely toxic and/or corrosive, based on what their mother was able to do.

Besides, there must be a reason the environment hasn't squashed them yet.

It silently curses them and their mother for bringing such terrible inconvenience to its playground. Now, Vincent moves more cautiously. Those creatures are stupid as it has thus far observed, so a simple disguise should fool them easily enough.

It thinks. Who does the cat-man trust?

Probably no one, as would be natural.

Who does he hate?

Seo'd work, but chances are he'd sound an alarm- actually, excellent idea. It could lure them all inside a building and....

Hah! Do you hear that one? We'll save it for later.

...

So who isn't here?

Aside from Bronze, it sees the girl's body, the dragon, the four-legged cat and the fuzzy-eared girl. So that leaves the soldier boy it'd last seen unconscious, the trident-bearer, the vixen, most of the fallen, and then some.

None of its choices are exactly risk-free, but Vincent's okay with that. Whatever it does will surely cause more mayhem at little risk to itself as long as the bugs don't discover who's hiding behind the fresh face. It chooses a form at random, turning into a scrappy young woman with a mess of red hair, a character who nobody, not even Vincent, has seen for quite some time. "She" leans against the wall and with a calm but urgent tone, says, "Hey, over here."

It was a creeping sensation; an unexplainable sense that snapped him out of his trance. Bronze felt like he was being watched from afar, which is possible since they are pretty easy to find in a deserted street. After all, what else can attract a predator's attention?

He reminded himself that said predator has the ability to think and reason. It can lie, and by far knew that it has limitations in strength and power, but why does he feel uneasy? He shot a glance back at his mourning associates and frowned. They're more likely not fit to deal with danger right now, maybe he should convince them to go back to the... police station? Is that what they said? That place.

As soon as he was about to open his mouth and get the dragon's attention, he heard another voice from behind him. The feline froze, but not in a terrified way. He clutched the watergun in his left paw as he turned around.

Another one?

He didn't react. He just stared at her and waited for what she could possibly do.

Vincent narrows its eyes, thinking. It has his attention, now what? It shoots a glance past Bronze and at the creepy crawlies stalking them from the roof, still struggling to puzzle why the hell they're still alive.

Then its eyes widen as it reaches something of an epiphany.

These creatures, as far as it has observed, were birthed for the sole purpose of hunting and killing it (how ironic.) They know nothing but murderous hatred for their target. They know no compassion, caution, or fear and have barely enough intelligence to complete their designated task. When they pursue him, it has observed that they charge poised to rip their bodies open, spilling their deadly contents with no concern for collateral damage.

This, perhaps, is why they have been spared.

It hatches an admittedly crude plan and sets it into motion without a second thought. "She" gasps with shock and stumbles a few steps back, trembling in mock terror. Vincent's eyes lock onto the unfeeling creatures lurking on that rooftop and it raises a quivering finger to reveal their presence to Bronze.

This one, fear? No point. Not hated. Not important. Not to kill. Should not fear. Cannot tell if hated. Kill hated, no mistakes. Die for mother! Not for nothing. Mother must be died for.

[They..... really aren't very intelligent, but they can tell what fear is! Not why they cause it to the ones they aren't going to kill, though.]

Helynah cracks a genuine smile at her quip. It's gallows humor: the kind of joke that shouldn't be funny, but helps them both cope with the horror of their present condition. It helps Helynah, at least, stomach the dread of whatever lies beyond the door as she turns the handle and slowly pushes it open. She's a little surprised it hasn't been locked. She opens it halfway, then remembers why Victi can hardly walk or breathe without near-crippling pain. She stops and peers inside, unwilling to fully enter at the risk of getting a few new scars to call her own, or worse.

By worse, she means whatever happened to that poor sap melded to the wall.