The world came back to Michael in a head-splitting cacophony of sensations. A  bitter coldness against his skin, the pained screech of bedsprings, the dank scent of stagnation, the sharp clank of metal against metal, and the maddening beat of his racing heart. His labored breath rattled in his tight chest as he struggled against the sensory overload. But a wave of nausea crashed on top of it all as acidic bile burnt his throat.

 He tried to clear it, but it only evolved into a fit of coughing. The pathetic noise filled the room as he fought to get control of himself. Eventually, it subsided, and he would have straightened up if not for his restrained right arm.

With bleary eyes, he squinted up to see a rusted headboard and a set of handcuffs.

"You've gotta be…" his voice rattled out. He pulled at it, but the frame, for all its sketchiness, did not budge. Before he could complain more, his stomach turned, forcing him over the side of the bed as he spat up bile.

After coughing a few times, he cleared his throat and assessed his situation. Well, their situation. Alexander was somewhere nearby. A good sign. As when their connection was severed in the forest, it had left Michael with too many unanswered questions. The familiar background static provided some stability and comfort even if they couldn't communicate over it.

"Brody..." Michael felt like an idiot for not figuring out this betrayer sooner. He had been right there the entire time.

A spark of rage flared up in him as the stilted air kicked to life. Forgotten anger remerged but was forcefully drenched out. He had to keep control of himself; he was not in a position to indulge in such emotions. Perhaps in the future... he thought with satisfaction of the joy it would bring him to bury a punch into the bastard's face. But then quickly shook it away. Such things were for later.

Now adjusted to the dark, he found that it was just him, the bed, and cardboard boxes. A lot of cardboard boxes. They must have shoved him in here for quick storage.

He looked over his cuff. While the restraint was new, the headboard it connected to was less sturdy. He roughly tugged at it, but the frame still didn't move. Unperturbed, he groped around and found that a single screw attached each metal beam to the bed. His fingers slipped off the screw, but if he could find something flat, he could loosen it. One of these boxes must have a useful tool.

Almost everything was within reach of his legs as he stretched out. A pained grunt escaped him as his right leg throbbed. The large bandage was already crusty with dried blood from when they moved him. Now new red spots formed. Unfortunately, it was hard to be careful as he hooked a box with his left foot and dragged it in.

It was medium-sized and rattled loudly when pulled across the concrete floor. Michael hoped that was a good sign as he awkwardly rifled through it with his foot. The angle and the dark made it difficult to recognize everything inside, but he guessed it was plumbing fixings from their shape and feel. After a minute of searching, he failed to find anything useful, so he pushed it to the side and started over.

Several boxes later, he found a flat metal card just thin enough to work at the screw. His hand trembled, but he absolutely could not drop it. There was no guarantee he'd get a second chance. However, with each turn of the screw, it almost slipped out of his grip. On the last turn, he held his breath. Finally, a light clatter broke the silence.

The screw was out.

With the rail weakened, he pulled at it until the bar popped free and the cuff slid loose. One objective down. Now for the rest of the escape.

Under normal circumstances, Michael would have used the darkness to his advantage. After all, his abilities worked best in it. But, as he summoned a small shadow, a sudden oppressive energy seized his body. It ensnared him, suffocated him. Not easily harassed, he pushed back. But the more he struggled, the more it smothered him. It was as if it was trying to absorb him.

The realization returned him to his host body. His blood whistled in his ears, a near-deafening roar, and he gave up the battle of wills as he fell back. The shadow whisp dissipated, taking the pressure with it. But the oppressive feeling lingered as he touched his throat and found the skin tender.

Was this what Alexander had experienced early? Michael had given little thought to it before, but he couldn't deny the dreadful familiarity after his encounter. No, he knew what it was. It just made no sense.

"We need to get out of here," he whispered.

His first attempt to stand failed as his right leg collapsed and sent him back onto the bed. Every inch of his body reminded him it had hardly been three days since the Blue Room Incident. Hunter's healing was faster than an average human, but only by a hair. He regathered himself and looked around. Much to his luck, he found a crutch leaned up against the wall. Perfect.

He crawled over and grabbed it before straightening up. His leg throbbed, but he could stand. He pulled a few more boxes over to the bed and rifled through them in hopes of finding anything useful. While he was still in his hospital gown, it at least had large pockets. He found a small compact mirror, along with a flashlight and box cutter.

He tested the blade and found some sticky substance crusted on it. But a knife was a knife. He also found the most crucial thing of all, a headband. His hair was a mess, but now it was a mess out of his face.

He shoved everything else into his pockets as he stood and went for the door. Now, what were the chances they locked it? He then corrected his question. It was more likely they asked themselves, 'what were the chances he would get out of bed?'

The door opened with ease as Michael peeked around the corner using the mirror. The hallway was empty. Still, he looked a few more times before stepping out. The moment the crutch hit the linoleum his chances at stealth were gone. A small squish followed each of his steps, and when framed in the hallway's silence, it was deafening. Hyper-vigilant, he walked as lightly as he could, watching for any angle that an enemy could come from. Though he was momentarily distracted by a brightly decorated message board. In large pre-cut letters, it spelled out 'Banyan's Hallow High' across the top.

Well, he knew where he was. Though he had never hoped to return to this place outside of a visit to the Banyan Maiden, it wasn't the worst place they could be. With an otherworldly ally close by and no tangible realm locking them in place, it meant things were a lot easier than before. All they needed was a car to escape.

Limping down the hall, he kept his ears strained for any early sign of trouble. At every corner and intersection, he used his mirror to check for patrols. But the entire floor seemed empty. While passing a half-decorated classroom door, he found a map of the building. He was on the third floor in the eastern wing. That was the best he could get out of it as they designed the place like a puzzle with intersecting hallways, few internal windows, and crisscrossing overpasses. If he could, he would have pried the map off the wall, but he would make do with memorizing it and following the glowing exit signs.

It took a bit, but he had finally reached the staircase when he heard a thunderous crash close by, followed by loud cursing and more banging as the broom closet next to him jumped but didn't open. More cursing followed.

"Ashe, you—" A muffled cry rang out, and Michael recognized the voice. He opened it, and Shelly fell out. She caught herself on her side as her bound arms pushed against their restraints to break her fall. However, she still kicked out, causing him to trip to avoid the hit.

"Look here, you motherfucker!" She flew up but abruptly stopped when she recognized him. "Oh, shit!" She stumbled and fell back to the floor with a thud.

"Shhh," Michael hissed while reaching into his pocket and pulling out his box cutter. It became clear that the blade was caked in blood under the harsh fluorescent lights, but the ropes needed to be cut.

"Just hand it to me," Shelly whispered, sitting up so that her hands were towards him. Once she had it, she made quick work of her binds. Triumphantly, she hopped up and kept the blade after taking in Michael's lackluster appearance.

"How did you end up here?" He asked.

"That bitch. They used something on me. Knocked me right out."

"Great," Michael sighed. "We need…"

The sound of movement interrupted him as their senses went on alert. They exchanged glances and slid back into the closet. Jammed together, they listened to the approaching footsteps until they stopped in front of their door and banged against it.

"Keep it down in there-"

Shelly flew out, slamming the door into the man's face before turning around and forcing him in a chokehold. Michael followed but couldn't do much to help. However, he didn't need to as she bashed the guard's head into the floor and choked him until he no longer moved. She then took the rope and tied him up.

After she had his hands and ankles bound, she ran a bit of cord as a gag and searched him.

"Is this what happened to people who didn't agree to your business proposal?" Michael asked with a raised eyebrow and smirk.

"It got the deal done," She joked as she checked the gun she got off the man. "Eight bullets. Damn mages. But bullets are bullets."

"I'll handle the shooting."

Shelly looked at him, the sarcasm evident on her face as she handed him the walkie talkie. "You think you can impersonate him?"

Though he had heard little of the man's voice, he had many lifetimes of practice, so he would make it work. Michael adjusted himself when a call came through.

"Did you shut her up?" A voice crackled over the device.

He gave a simple confirmation.

"God, she's a nosy bitch. They heard her all the way down on the first floor. Well, since you've already made the walk to the east wing, go check on that Oracle as well."

The siblings looked at each other.

"Alright," Michael replied before muting. "There's no way."

"What? It can't be that Mama's here too?" Shelly stared at the walkie talkie, distressed.

"She left with Brody awhile back…"

"But I got a call from her like three days ago. She was still with the Council. This must be another Oracle."

"Brody's working with these people."

"Wait!" Shelly struggled to control her volume as she looked at him wide-eyed. "Brody? As in Brody Harrison? As in Grace's dog dad?"

"Yup," Michael nodded.

"That motherfucker. That's why his girlfriend… or boyfriend… um… Ashe knocked me out."

"Boyfriend?" He looked at her, confused.

"Yea, like I mentioned early, they knocked me out. It was right after I got something from the car for them too. I walked in, and well, she didn't look the same, a lot taller and built, and you were over their shoulder. I got a glimpse of their face, and it did not look like her, but they were in the same clothes. Anyway, before I could even register what was going on, I was out cold. Next thing I know, I'm in a broom closet."

"Ashe… Ashely… Ashely Lee," Michael restrained a groan. "You've got to be kidding me?"

"What is it?"

"Let's go find this Oracle first. Then we need to get Neil."

"Neil's here too?" She suppressed her shout. "Who else? Peter? Imani?"

"Don't curse it," he sighed.