I can't think of anything to say... soo...

Warnings --->

WC: ~1100

Enjoy!

Impulse struggled against the bonds, trying to tear the ropes that held him in place. Electricity flew off him, sparks that caused people to jerk their hands away before trying again.

Impulse glared at the person in front of him, his yellow eyes glowing dangerously. He knew it was hopeless but... why not be annoying?

"Where did the other three go?" someone else asked, cracking a grin from Impulse.

He knew exactly what had happened.

And regretted nothing.

Hels, Grian, Iskall, Xay,

I'm sorry, but you all should all be back in the Nether.

"I think they escaped out a window or something," another scientist answered the first's question.

"This kid has been Missing for years," the man in front of him breathed. "Check the records, we should get the parents back in the picture."

Impulse flinched, and mumbled a 'please don't', barely heard by the man. He made a dismissive hand gesture, presumably canceling his previous command.

"Alright, fine," the guy agreed. "Anyone you'd like to see instead? We can make arrangements."

Two faces flashed in Impulse's head, and he glanced away, shaking his head 'no'.

Remember the protocols.

Remember the rules.

Don't let anyone you know see you.

Or it'll be too hard to turn back.

It's better if they think I'm dead anyways.

Impulse pushed away the memories, and focused on one of the many times they had been drilled on protocol for a scenario in which they somehow got stolen back.

"Sit down, you three," Hels grumbled, earning a sigh from Iskall.

"Lecture time, featuring 'Professor Hels'!" he said with mock excitement.

"This is important," Hels insisted. "Iskall and Impulse, you've already heard this one, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it again. Grian, you just joined, this lecture is crucial."

"He does LECTURES?" Grian shrieked.

"Yes, he'll drone on for hours," Impulse complained mockingly.

"Oh god," Grian's comment drew a sigh from Hels.

"If you three think you get lectured a lot," he snapped. "Then you'd do absolutely horribly in my place."

"Good for you," Iskall grumbled. "Can we get this over with?"

"Impulse, if you somehow get back to the Overworld, what do you do?" the question earned a groan from Iskall and a sigh from Impulse.

"This one doesn't make any sense!" Impulse cried. "We're never going to be back in the Overworld, why do we need to know what to do in an impossible situation?!"

"It's not impossible," Hels flared back. "Now answer the question!"

"Talk to no one," Impulse recited in a bored voice. "If you see someone you knew, avoid them at all costs. Stay away from people, but try and make your way to the nearest 'dropspot' where someone can help you."

"Yes," Hels nodded approvingly. "Iskall, what's a dropspot?"

"Disguised Missing headquarters," he replied. "All of them have a butterfly garden outside, and they can be anything, from a shed to a school. You'll be pulled towards them, mentally, because of the magic suction inside of them."

"Butterfly garden?" Grian echoed. "Why?" Iskall shrugged.

"So that they're more identifiable from a distance, I guess," Iskall offered. "I don't know." Hels sighed.

"Because we have a nature-based agent working at each one," he grumbled. "And they like the butterflies. As well as the identifiability, that's also part of it."

Hels then continued on with his 'speech' or whatever Impulse was supposed to call it.

Little did he realize how helpful it'd be later on.

Impulse smiled softly, now happy that he knew what to do. If Hels hadn't thought to teach them about that...

Impulse probably wouldn't have been able to say no earlier.

Just wait.

Get your chance.

And run.

A sudden memory flashed through him, and Impulse's eyes lit up with determination and hope.

Well... maybe there's another option.

If it works.

It might not, but it's worth a shot.

"Excuse me?" Impulse called out, catching the man's attention. "If it's still possible.."

"There... actually is someone I'd like to see."

It's been years since Hels has let himself cry.

Stifled tears, reluctant drips of water, yes.

But a good, hard cry?

One that Hels allows?

He can't remember the last time it's happened.

The moment he dropped into the headquarters, fuming, he stormed to his room and slammed the door, before slumping against the crimson wood and burying his face in his knees, which he had hugged to his chest.

I've really failed this time.

I've just lost two members.

Two.

I... I told Xay to go.

And Impulse...

It's my fault.

I should've just attacked.

Why, why aren't I brave enough?

Why am I not smart enough?

Why don't I think?

Why did they have to be stuck with someone like me as their Head?

I'm not a leader.

I'm not an adopted brother.

I'm not reliable.

And I'm not okay.

Hels lifted his head and wiped away the tears.

I can't just give up.

I can't cry.

I can't stop and mourn.

Hels took a breath, then opened the door, heading back into the main room.

I can't mourn...

Because they're not dead.

And I'll make sure that it stays that way.

Iskall glanced at Hels, eyes widening at the knight's tearstained face. Grian, who was next to him and had his face buried in Iskall's sweater, didn't seem to notice his appearance.

"I'm going to get Xay," Hels said gruffly. Iskall nodded his acknowledgement, giving a small, watery smile.

Hels flew up, out of the headquarters, and flew over the Nether, scanning the area for a certain figure.

What am I even supposed to say to him?!

'Hi, sorry I yelled at you, y'know, when I got so furious I lost control and I also blamed you for a possible death, nothing much. Anyways, wanna have a really awkward day with me? We'll go back to the headquarters and everyone will stare at you, but it's fine. You'll be fine.'

Hels sighed, scouring his brain for some sort of solid plan.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the ghost-like creature almost creeping up on him.

Until he heard it.

An earsplitting screech.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was sent flying out of the air and into a warped tree.

Hels rubbed his head, quickly slipping behind the tree and a few more to assure that the ghast couldn't hit him any more.

He glared at the spots on his arms that would surely bruise because of the harsh landing. Doing a mental check, he was pretty sure that the injury was mild, and didn't need any attention, at least by his standards. Hels opened his elytra, only to facepalm in realization.

Of course his elytra had been ripped when he crashed.

And of course he didn't have a spare on him.

This is going wonderfully.

Hels sarcasm for the soul.

-Storm