Aura affecting secondhand

Undoing his power, noting his battery time remaining, he listened for two more footsteps, shielded the ear closest to the pair with one hand, then activated the detonator.

The explosions from these localized charges weren't large by any means, but the crack they produced was sharp and satisfying. Every ounce of weight he carried while using his power was a burden that made every step forward harder. Something like a grenade was too heavy, too obvious.

Secondhand waited, one hand still at his ear.

"Capricorn!" the voice was hoarse, shaky. "Capricorn!"

He remained where he was. It was tempting to see the results, to figure out how to better approach things in the future, but poking his head out risked being seen, and he had to wait roughly a minute before his power was available, unless-

The fear aura washed over him, and his heartbeat skipped, his thoughts stumbling over one another. Every ache and pain he had from wading through the mud was exaggerated as he used his power instinctively, prematurely, because terror wasn't something he was used to by any measure.

Rather than burn himself out and find himself slowed but unable to walk, he switched on the battery. It was at forty percent, and he burned it down to fifteen percent to get himself fully situated in the slowed time.

It didn't help. The fear soaked into him, took the strength out of him, and made his fingers fumble at the buttons for the battery.

He grit his teeth, bearing it, stepping away from the wall.

***

Not the goat-Capricorn, interestingly enough. The fish. They must have changed or been changing.

The fear made his tired legs tremble, and made his hands shake enough he didn't trust them with his tech, to turn on the next audiobook or adjust visual settings.

In the midst of a silence where he heard only his own grunts, breathing, and muttered, gasping swears, he placed one foot in front of the other for what might have been thirty or forty-five minutes of time to anyone else. All through a mind numbing panic that radiated from the two heroes like light radiated from the sun.

Bitter, angry, his thoughts spiraling out as he endured it all, he told himself that at least she was more scared than he was. Or she would be, when time started again. If she and her friend weren't done for already, they would be when his team got to them.

And the only thing better than a scared pretty girl with tears running down her face was a scared pretty girl with tears on her face that had pissed him the fuck off, completely at his mercy.

He trudged on.

Fuck, he thought. The Fallen were rubbing off on him. Not that he had been an angel before, but… he could only spend so much time with people who let him do anything he wanted, however he wanted, without getting a little fucked up. Fuck.

He endured the pressure of fear on top of the pressure of air. A weight of emotion grinding him down and throwing him off balance, a wall of air in front of him.

- Dying 15.y