"Don't you think maybe we should wait a while this time, Luta? I'm hungry and this constant attacking is wearing me down," said the voice of a physically young, but otherwise mature girl. Destra didn't want this senseless destruction, but she'd seen that Luta could care about people, too. After all, the older girl had taken care of the blonde-headed child before they'd come to the surface. This place had been a wretched hive of scum and villainy, true, but Destra didn't think anything deserved death.
Though there was certainly a lot of death since Luta went crazy. "No! They all will die, for the terrible cost they've given." The pink-haired one's response caused Destra to sigh, but still she followed Luta through the destroyed remnants of a former city. A few moments passed without either of the two talking. A lot of moments were like this, lately. Awkward, wrong. "Fine. We can eat," Luta muttered, and lowering her voice to a stage whisper said, "freaking girl's going to slow me down."
"Shut up, Luta, I'm still young!" came the faux-furious response. Both shared a laugh, and Luta punched open a door to a mostly destroyed restaurant. The splintering wood crashed against the wall far on the other side of the building. "Yum, food! Om nom nom nom," Destra mimed the act of eating in a humorously exaggerated fashion. Luta just walked in to the back, finding some precooked food. It would be gross, she thought, but they didn't need to eat much to survive.
"Here. Eat."
"Yum."
Later, they stood outside another city. "Luta. I'm tired," Destra's voice was indeed coated with the drawl indicative of a need to sleep. Luta simply nodded, and the two found a simple place to stay the night. As time went on, Destra found herself feeling worse and worse about their situation. She wanted more friends, and she wanted no death. More importantly, she wanted Luta to be the kind person Destra remembered her being. And underground, ten others were starting to awaken.
They would feel a pull. The computer would react swiftly, rushing them through modes of conversation, teaching them the basics of their abilities, giving them their mission. For the first few hours, at least, there would be no thought. Just learning. Mass learning. The computer needed to hurry, hurry. Destra needed the rest of the group, and needed them fast. So, rush, rush. They can learn more on their own, in clashes and in downtime. Just so long as they learned what they absolutely needed.