Official RP Thread: The Evolutionist's Stone (2)

[Celadon's Penultimate]

Instantaneously, another rift in space-time. Torres and Charisma set foot firmly on the ground. The assassin looked at Torres.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. Well, uh, not ANY time, but--"

"Yeah, I get it." Charisma chuckled, "Alright, now, I have some business to take care of. See ya; take care."

"You, too." A third rift in space-time, and Torres was gone back to whatever it is teleporters do on their spare time.

"Okay, girl", Charisma breathed to herself, "You made this mess, now time to clean it up." And with that, she was ready to get started.

A quick infrared scan of the layout (in case any invisibles or camouflagers were lurking about), a periscopic glance through the trees overhead and she headed toward the five-story government building, making sure to keep behind bushes and trees and walls. When finally she was in range, she ducked behind the bushes that lined the wall of the outer gate. She looked to the camera overhead, and the one across from it. Her eyes lit and she launched an optic blast at the furthest camera first, then the one directly above her (fortunately, the security guards weren't doing their jobs, so no one caught on when the cameras went offline).

Seeing that the cameras were down, she shifted back to the infrared spectrum to make sure there was no laser field. Surprisingly, there was none. And so, she grabbed the bars of the gate, stuck a leg through and slipped between them. She made her way up to the door, and realized that there were two more cameras. She grumbled under her breath and thought to laser-blast the cameras, but then realized it was too close to the building to avoid being heard and blowing her cover. Instead, she decided to sear the cameras with her Heat Vision.

Now that her way had been cleared, she shifted her vision yet again to X-Ray Vision and scanned the inside of the first floor. Taking into account the number of people and their locations, she thought quickly of a plan to systematically take them out. But first, she would have to get in.

"Think, think, think..." Charisma mumbled internally. Finally, a thought popped into her head.

The buzzer rang at the receptionist desk.

"Yeah?"

"Delivery for a Ms. Drummond. First name Delia?"

The receptionist looked to the grid of cameras and noticed the two front feeds were offline. She thought to question it, but then figured it was a job for the maintenance man, and disregarded it.

"Sam, can you get the door? The maintenance man will have to fix the two cameras out front."

Sam grumbled begrudgingly and headed to open the door. Before he could peek his head out to see who it was, however,  Charisma took the opportunity of the opened door and kicked her way in. The others got up and looked around in panic, but all to no avail. Before they could think to do anything to defend themselves, or escape, the Optic Assassin was upon them. After taking out the cameras she had spotted, there came several optic blasts to several foreheads, a couple throwing knives to a couple hearts, and finally only Sam stood (as Charisma had saved him for last).

He thought to plead with her for his life, but she quickly put a hand up.

"No need to beg; you're going to die regardless. So, this is how it's gonna go. You could try to run screaming, and get picked off like a wild animal, or you could cooperate with me and be spared...for now."

The intern quivered like a beaten dog, looking around at the bodies of his former co-workers, before agreeing, "O-okay. What do you need me to do?"

She reached into a small pouch in her dress and tossed the intern a familiar plastic case.

"Are these--?"

"Not normal contacts; Optic-Adaptive Eye Contacts. You put them on, and whenever I get to a place where I need an eye scan, I can use them to mimic your optic pattern."

"Bu-but, but I don't have access to any high-security areas. I-I'm just an intern."

Charisma faked disappointment, "Oh, that's just too bad."

Another laser blast penetrated the intern's forehead, and Charisma walked over to the body, taking the contacts case back. Without another word, she was on her way to find somebody who could actually help her bust out the supers she had wrongfully helped to imprison.

[Wish]

Jack was now hanging upside down awaiting torture. How did this happen? Very simple, he was ditched........left; abandoned by both his friends and his enemies. Soon the door opened and he was about to be tortured.

"Hello, Mr. Jack Ryder. What a predicament you are in", stated a thuggish looking man, "I'm Neil. And YOU...are going to tell me everything I want to know."

The floor underneath Jack let go to reveal a trap door with water; Jack was surprised.

"You look nervous." said Neil, "Well I have good news for you, its not the sharks feeding time yet. We'll just have to make do with plain water."

Jack panicked a the thought of his head about to be dunked into the water; he held his breath. But his chains started burning red hot and he was forced to let out a scream. Cue Jack gargling  water on his way down. He coughed as he was being pulled back up.

"As you have figured out, my ability is to heat metal. Many people do not realize how painful hot metal is. It's nothing fancy but its excruciating." said Neil walking away.

Neil picked up a crowbar.

"Relax, I wont hit you with this; this is to brand you."

He waved the superheated crowbar near Jack's face menacingly.

"Now, tell us where that girl teleported off to." said Neil in a gruff threatening voice.

"I told you already I don't know." said Jack.

Neil applied his brand slowly to Jack's back and then dunked him back into the water.

"I don't think I need to explain that heating something then cooling it will break it. Where is the girl?" said Neil in a louder voice.

"I don't know." yelled Jack.

"It's a shame....you had such a nice pretty boy face too."

"Wait...wait....I know where she is." said Jack, almost pleading.

"Where?" asked Neil.

Jack strained to think of something.

"Too slow." said Neil.

Neil touched Jack with the burning crowbar on his other side only to get shocked and passed out on the ground upon contact. Jack was nearly frothing at the mouth from his close encounter and because of his shock.

"You're lucky I could find this place," said Jolyne.

Cute music was playing on the background. Jack for once was glad that he had that tattoo. Jolyne touched the half-demon Jack and ported him off his chains, onto the floor. Neil, still only barely conscious, hit the alarm. Jolyne grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him past the closing doors. She opened a window.

"Let's escape in style," said Jolyne.

They both simultaneously jumped down the side of the building, and screamed at the top of their lungs. Halfway down, there came a deafening silence. Jack opened his eyes and noticed that they were no longer in mid-air, but standing firmly on the ground, half a mile away from the government building. Jolyne looked exultant, but Jack was less ecstatic.

"Why did you ditch me, back when we were surrounded by snipers?"

Jolyne calmly replied, "Wouldn't you have done the same thing if you could teleport and were surrounded by guns?"

"No", said Jack defiantly.

"Whatever. I got some leads while you were up in that torture room." said Jolyne.

"Like what?" said Jack, still angry.

"Well, it seems that your friend has been keeping a secret bank account.", said Jolyne.

"How did you find out?" Jack became suspicious.

"None of your business..." Jolyne snapped.

"So?"

"So... we'll just stake out the bank and get him when he makes the next deposit," Jolyne finished.

Jack sighed, and then turned to her again. "Something tells me there's another reason you want to find this guy other than to remove this tattoo."

The teleporter cursed in her head; Dang, she was caught, "...Well, the President wants him to fix something--something private," said Jolyne, "Even I don't know what it is.

==The White House==
The President could barely contain his eagerness to see his latest commission finished; slowly, he removed the cover of a piece of artwork. It was his picture and, like him, it was becoming old and grey.

The President's ability was immortality but only his body was immortal his soul was old. With an old soul, he could not enjoy life anymore and he felt himself losing his humanity.

He eagerly awaited the arrival of the Artist to hopefully rejuvenate himself.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==Boston==
Meanwhile, as the teleporter and the half-demon conspired, their prey was nearly walking right into their hands...

"Anita, are you sure we should go to a bank in SAVAGE Territory to do business?" a voice inquired, unsure. The Artist. He and his banker friend, Anita walked quickly down the street toward the Lillith Savage First Bank of Boston.

"Yes, I'm sure. Besides, it's the only place you can do business where the security isn't as high. This time of day, they're changing the guard."

"Fine. But if I get caught--"

"Relax, AJ, you're fine." Anita adjusted her glasses and pushed back her brown hair, "Just get in and out as soon as possible. As long as you haven't stirred up any problems with Mistress Lil's rules, you should get in and get out no problem." With that, the two went inside to do some business.

The man in the first booth waved them over and greeted them.

"Hi, yeah, we need to deposit a rather, uh, large amount. That won't be a problem, will it?"

The teller pointed to the sign next to his booth, "All sums larger than $250,000 must be cleared with the bank manager or one of his associates. You'll need to go to the back."

And so that they did. When they reached the end of the hall, they reached the door that said "Manager" and Anita knocked.
The door opened and they were welcomed inside to take a seat.

"Alrighty then. Good afternoon; what can I help you with?"

"We need to deposit a rather large amount of money. Like say, in the millions." The Artist blurted. The bank manager stared at him a second before finally reaching down into his bottom left drawer and pulling out a sheet of paper.

"Fill that out."

The Artist was just about to put "Adam Bradley Jacobs" before Anita quickly caught him and whispered to him, "Jacob ADAMS! Jacob ADAMS!"

"Oh, right." He whispered sheepishly back to her, and finished the information correctly, before handing it back to the bank manager.

"Hm...interesting."

"Something wrong?" Anita volunteered, noticing the manager's face.

"Oh, no, nothing. I just have to...make a call."

Anita fidgeted in her seat, sure that something just wasn't right, "Uh, do you mind if I just go to the bathroom?"

The manager's face fell, "Oh, yeah sure...this'll just take a minute."

Anita got up, and noticing that Adam wasn't following, yanked him up after her, "Come ON." she whispered.

"Wha--why? The guy--"

"He's calling in directly to Overlady Savage. She and every other Overlord have knowledge of all fugitives of the law. Come ON."

The bank manager turned back from the phone, noticing that the two were about to make a break for it, and called to stop them. When they had escaped his grasp, then came the alarms. They blared loudly, alerting all security that whoever emerged from the back hall was, basically, target practice.

Adam and Anita were met with five security guards, as the bank patrons scattered out the door. Adam looked to either side, and without a moment's hesitation, reached into the drawing pad he kept by his side at all times, and pulled out the very shiny-looking new glock.

Lucky was her name. A lovely gun that never ran out of bullets. A fact that Adam exploited, causing each security guard to duck for cover. As they fumbled for theirs, Adam kept firing off HIS gun as he and Anita made a break for the door. As they finally made it outside, the two headed as quickly and inconspicuously through the crowds as they could. They finally stopped when they reached an alley two blocks away.

"Oh, my goodness, that was close," Anita panted, much to Adam's agreement.

A familiarly-gravelly female voice replied behind them, "Closer than you think."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

Charisma quickly turned to her right, and strutted down the hallway of the government building, keeping an eye out for any potential hindrances. Two guards appeared at the end of the hallway, and approached her with haste. She kept her right hand close to her side, ready to disable the two with a couple throwing-knives. They passed her, however, without a hitch. By the time they had realized the body count that she had started to amass in the lobby, she was well around the corner.

However, that didn't keep them from sounding the alarm. The loud thing blared on all sides, alerting the others to be on their guard. Charisma cursed the thought of deviating from what she knew as an assassin.

"I knew I should have killed them." She muttered to herself.

But then, she realized two very important facts: one, she once worked with these people. Anyone else she encountered would think she was on their side. And two, the first two guards had no idea where she was by now. And in this big government building? Stealth would definitely be on her side. With that in mind, she quickly darted down the longest corridor she could find, and tried to blend in with the panic of the others. She asked questions like the rest, and feigned confusion and bewilderment, all the while keeping an inconspicuous eye out for the place where the supers were held.

"Benny, you go and try to find out what's going on," She said finally to one of the scientists as she spotted the holding area, "I'm gonna make sure that the others haven't found some way to sneak out of holding."

Benny nodded nervously and went off to do as he was told, and Charisma hastened to the holding area. She looked at the small box beside the door and noticed three identification mechanisms: the card slot, the keypad and the optic scan station. She called over a tech and asked him to open the door for her. And within a couple seconds, the tech entered the keycode.

"There ya go. 3515-0725."

And Charisma was inside.

The alarm only barely penetrated the inner walls of the holding area, so the supers only had the faintest hint something was wrong. They failed even to notice her presence as Charisma stood just outside of their cells. She cast her vision about, and looked at each of the prisoners held within. They all looked either insane or villainous. And yet, if she were to trust Jack's words, they were all awesome allies, fiercely loyal. So, finally trusting her heart of hearts instead of a killer instinct, he fired off a powerful laser blast at both camera in the room, and fired off another to disable the hard drive of the power-neutralizer matrix. The doors slid open, and in an instant the supers emerged, cautious, wary and ready to take down the folks who had put them there. That included Charisma.

At the mere sight of Charisma LeVeaux, a vaguely familiar animal mimic lunged forth and curved her hands as though to mimic the pincers of a crab.

"Bad..." Vicious spat hatefully, "Very bad..."

"No! No!" Charisma quickly corrected, "I'm here to let you go! I realized my mistake."

The others looked at her quizzically.

"Oh, really?" Kitty challenged, "Well, what made you have your change of heart?"

"I don't have time to explain. We have to go. Now. Before they realize something's up."

"Bad." Vicious repeated again, this time narrowing her eyes and sniffing her unexpected savior for the pheromone that denoted fear; she listened sharply for a change in heartbeat. She knew deep-down Charisma had  to be lying.  

But Eugene wasn't so sure, "Well, maybe she's telling the truth. I mean, weirder things have happened."

The others nodded in agreement, except for a speedster and a girl in red. The speedster, Duke Serpi, spoke up first.

"I don't trust her half as far as I could throw her. She's a liar, that's what she does. She lies, sneaks around and kills people. And since none of us is dead, and she's not tryin' to hide from us, that leaves only one other option."

The others looked at him, with an air of hesitant agreement, and then back to Charisma for the counter.

"I know you all must hate me. But Jack told me--"

"You know Jack?" Eugene asked, "Did he send you here?"

Charisma shook her head, "He told me about you all, but I looked you all up myself."

"Well, that's a shock, so says Tock." said Tock, still patting her thigh.

But the rest of them had no time to get in their inquiries. The guards were upon them. They burst through the doors, catching Charisma with the captives, and thought not even to question it.

The first guard just lunged at Kitty, and tackled her to the floor.

"NO!" cried Vicious, before grappling him with one her hands (still curved like a crab's pincer) and slinging him off of her handler, into the wall. She roared fiercely at the second guard and pursued him out into the hallway with cheetah speed, before finally catching him in her teeth with a rattlesnake reflexes and delivering black mamba venom. Following her example, the rest of the supers followed the feral out into the hall, guns blazing.

Quentin sped out into the hallway, a mix of happy and sad that his powers were back, before putting his feelings aside for the moment and dealing with a few of the security guards and techs. Alongside the second speedster, they took down quite a few, in a small amount of time, and were ready for more.

Tock looked defiantly to either side, but Eugene stepped in front of her. Hoping his heroism wouldn't get him killed, he raised his hands, and the three guards that antagonized them were transfixed by his wicked power. He worked his fingers strangely, as he never had before, causing the guards to react in accordance. Finally, he got the idea to control their movements for his own purposes. He raised his hands, which raised their hands. He mimicked the act of holding a big gun, like those they had. He aimed the "gun", causing the guards to point their weapons at one another, and then they fired at the same time he gestured it.

Meanwhile, Vicious found herself making a good time of her fight. She seemed almost to attract strongmen, cowards who figured they could take on a young girl, and perhaps put her in her "place". But this was all to her benefit (as it provided a most effective workout). That in mind, she kangaroo-kicked a strongman in the neck, then bounded to face another and take him out with a goat's headbutt to the head. And when the guards had become too numerous, she gave off a shrill cicada call, which easily drowned out the noise of the alarm. The guards, who stood closer than her allies, were immediately knocked out, given the sound was much greater coming from a girl than a cicada.

Kitty, on the other hand, had already made her way around the corner, and was clearing a bloody path to the nearest exit. Fierce claws protruded from her hands, and she tore mercilessly through guards, techs and scientists alike. A few attempted to escape around the corner, and those she dealt with in the manifestation of a throwing knife to the neck. Seeing no more targets to take down, she dug her fingernails and toenails (still talon-like claws) into the wall and clambered along them, headed for the cameras that were mounted up to high for her to reach and disable otherwise.

As she did this, however, she failed to notice the impending rush of reinforcements that had been sent in to deal with them. By the time they had caught her attention, a shot caught her in the forehead, and she fell from the wall in a heap.

The girl in red caught sight of Kitty being shot down, and it infuriated her. She didn't even know the girl, but seeing anyone shot or hurt made her fume. So, with a look of firm determination, Delilah Short became the Red Blur. What started off as a ballet pirouette in appearance ended up looking like the Tasmanian Devil from the Looney Tunes. She whirled like a living tornado, whipping up a wicked wind, and then sped toward the crowd hatefully knocking the guards into walls, or grabbing them into her gyration and letting them out, disoriented. She even grabbed a few as she spun and slung them across the corridor.

Inspired by Delilah's sheer power, Kitty jumped up and decided to help the living whirlwind in anyway she could. The few which had escaped the deadly force of Delilah's vortex attack had been snatched up by Kitty's claws and dealt with swiftly. When Delilah saw finally that she had no more opponents to deal with then, she took a double-take at Kitty.

"Wha-what?" I thought you were--"

"Nah. I'm good." She smiled at the gyrator, "But thanks for takin' 'em out for me. 'Preciate it." She ran off to search for more baddies to take out, as the last of their current batch was being disposed of.

"I found a way out!" cried Charisma finally, and Quentin pressed the computer key to shut off the alarm.

"GoodImsodamntiredofthisplace..." replied Quentin.

The supers followed her out the door, hoping they would be met with no more resistance. When they realized that their opposition had either been dealt with, or was fleeing in terror, they let their guard down slightly, and Charisma sighed.

"I have no idea where we can go from here."

The others looked at her and uttered sentiments of the same dismay, except Quentin.

"Whatifwejuststayhere?" he suggested.

"NO!" Uttered Vicious, disgruntled at the very thought.

"Wait." Eugene got to thinking, and faced the others, "That's not a bad idea. We could stay here. And maybe reprogram some stuff, to turn it into a place of our own."

Charisma thought about it a second, "Any of you good with tech?"

"Sure there's a technopath or a mechanist around here somewhere..." Kitty shrugged, "So...we're really gonna take this place for ourselves?"

"Pretty much," Charisma responded, "This place would be perfect to give you a place to clean up, rest, and even get some training and exercise in. There's a gym on the second floor down, and a supply closet full of stuff you can use to make yourselves comfortable."

"Well, what about you?" Duke demanded.

"Oh, I have to go. Another errand. Reconnaissance. I'll be back before tomorrow, if I can help it."

So the supers went back inside, released the rest of those imprisoned, and told them of the plan for their newly-wrested base of operations.

[Sinrus]

Half an hour later, four people entered the Artist's studio. It was a low, whitewashed one story building in Southie, undistinguished and rather bland. Or at least, it would have been if not for the colorful graffiti streaked over every wall. Most building owners would have put a stop to the practice of using the studio itself as a canvas, but the Artist, far from seeing it as vandalism, liked to think that it encouraged artistic talent in the neighborhood kids. Anita was never quite sure, but she had a sneaking suspicion that more than a little bit of the graffiti was Adam's work anyways.

Inside the studio was dark and cluttered. Almost the entire small building was taken up by a single disorganized room, and what was left was a single walk-in closet full of art supplies. In this space, the Artist lived and worked, and, more often that not, ate and slept as well. Sketches and paintings covered every level surface and were pinned to the vast majority of the vertical ones. Clotheslines ran from one wall to another, more sheets of paper hanging from them so thick that they half-dimmed the overhead lights. For furniture, several art-covered tables stood haphazardly in the middle of the room, and a single chair leaned up against the corner. Anita gingerly moved a stack of paper from the seat and placed herself in it as Adam moved to a large desk against the opposite wall, pushed some loose sheets off his workspace, turned on a lamp, discovered a half-finished sketch of a whale, and busied himself with trying to finish it.

God only knows how long this may have gone on for, but thankfully Anita cleared her throat loudly after only half a minute, reminding Adam that he had guests. With a start, Adam pushed the whale sketch away and leaped to his feet, turning to face the two intruders into his disorganized life, who had until now been awkwardly glancing around at the artwork.

"So, Miss Isonov, Mr. Ryder," Adam began, "Since you're already here in my studio, what is it that I can do for you?"

In the corner, Anita sniffed. She was far from satisfied with Jolyne's insistence that she was not, in fact, here as a government agent, but rather against presidential orders. But she had convinced Adam, and so there had been no going back.

"We need tattoos removed," Jolyne answered. "This remote-thing on me, and the collar on him."

"I see," Adam answered, dancing with practiced ease through the stacks of paper to stand by Jack. "And what about the rest of these tattoos? Are they to go as well?"

"No," Jack broke in. "Leave the rest of them. Just get rid of this shock collar."

"Right-o," Adam replied buoyantly. "Removals are easy. This will take only a second."

Placing a hand on Jack's neck, the Artist activated his power. Jack felt nothing but a slight sucking wherever Adam touched, as if he was holding a small vacuum cleaner to his skin. Adam made a full circle around him, and then stopped, holding up his hand just in time for Jack to see the last traces of color run down his fingers and dissipate. He couldn't see his neck, of course, but somehow he knew that the tattoo collar was gone.

Adam moved on to Jolyne next, sponging up the ink from her skin until the controller had vanished. Adam announced that he was finished, and they were free to go. Jack thanked him. And then all hell broke loose.

Then Jolyne thanked him. "I appreciate the assistance, Artist," she said, the backdrop of a squad of government agents breaking through a wall lending her words a slightly sarcastic tone. "But unfortunately the president has further need to employ you."

Turning to the squad leader, she ordered "Detain the Artist and bring him back to HQ. Take the woman too, I suppose. She could prove useful, I suppose. And as for you, Jack," Jolyne snarled, whirling back around, a gun suddenly in her hand. "You're not quite off the hook either. The president seems to find his conversations with you interesting. I'm sure he'll enjoy-"

And just like that, Jolyne collapsed, snoring. Damien caste stood in the doorway, hand outstretched.

This was the cue for the shooting to begin. Anita seized Adam by the arm and threw the two of them through the open door, into Adam's supply closet. He drew Lucky, his glock, and began to exchange fire with the agents, as all around them, animated drawings screamed silently and ran around the edges of their frames, trying to find shelter from the bullets tearing through their canvases.

Meanwhile, the rest of the rescue team poured through the doorway. Ben came first, playing a deep, sustained chord on his double bass that caused a disk of red energy to appear before them, shielding the group from the incoming fire. Next, Byne and Flores barreled past and threw themselves into the fray. Wayne followed, sighting down the barrel of his gun at whatever unfortunate target had attracted his attention. Finally, there appeared a dark skinned woman who Jack didn't recognize, and stood with Ben behind the force field.

"Hey, Ben, it's good to see you!" Jack roared over the clamor of the battle, coming as close to embracing his old friend as he could without interrupting his playing. "And you brought Byne, too!"

"Same to you, Jack!" Ben shouted. "And this is my friend, Francisca Vera Borges Santos!" He inclined his head toward the woman standing nearby.

Then as suddenly as the battle had began, it came to a pause. The leader of the government squad had taken Byne from behind and now held him in the traditional hostage position, with a wicked combat knife pressed against the man's throat. "One more move," the leader growled, "and I'll kill your friend here."

Wayne looked at Ben. Ben looked at Byne. Byne shrugged. Ben nodded. Wayne pulled the trigger. The squad leader crumpled, a bullet in his forehead. Byne fell backwards in a shower of blood spewing from a jagged hole in his neck.

Before anybody had time to react, Ben had scooped up Byne's corpse and was running for the door. The rest of the group followed on his heels, just as a hail of bullets started up again.

Ben's voice came back from over his shoulder: "Jack, you guys have to get out of the city! Throw these goons off your tail! We'll split up, hope to see you again soon..."

And with that, their reunion ended, less than five minutes after it had begun. Turned transparent by Wayne's power, he, Jack, Damien, and Flores took a sharp right. Francesca and Ben, still carrying the temporarily deceased Byne, veered left. As the sounds of pursuit tapered off in that direction, Damien announced that he had to stop for a breather.

Jack was half listening during the planning session that followed. Part of him was thinking only about how the others would get away. Byne would be back up within a couple hours, and with a newly impenetrable throat in the bargain. Ben could take care of himself pretty well, but against the forces of the government and Overlady Vandal-Savage, who was sure to be hearing about this fiasco soon, Jack worried that the musician would be able to provide for both himself and Francesca.

The other half of Jack was listening to and nodding along with the plan as laid out by Wayne: they were heading to the nearest train station, turning themselves transparent again, and sneaking on board the express to Indianapolis. There they would be continuing their mission to save the world.

Jack fully tuned back in only just in time to hear the last annoyed comment from Flores:

"C'mon baldy, Logan Airport is so much closer. Why do we have to take a train? Nothing good EVER happens to us on trains."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

When Jolyne finally came to, she cursed under her breath. She had had them all in her reach; potential allies Wayne and Jack, and potential lackey Adam Jacobs (or was it Jacob Adams?). She cursed, twice, three times, and finally hoisted herself to her feet. She wondered in which direction any of them had gone in. Contemplating her next move, the prospects didn't seem bright.

She couldn't just 'port to them; she had no idea where any of them was.

She couldn't alert Overlady Savage; the President wanted them for himself.

And she certainly couldn't tell the President; he'd have her head.

So, she put herself into the mind of the Bassist. The world's second best assassin. The very leader of the superhuman rebellion. Hadn't Jack mentioned something about the Mover before? That had to mean Indiana; Indianapolis specifically. The Artist could wait, Jolyne decided; she had bigger fish to fry. And if she didn't, then most surely the President would let HER fry in their place. As though the mere thought of confronting the President empty-handed again had boosted her capability, she teleported to Logan Airport to alert the pilots of the supers, who she would now depict as hated fugitives of the law. And if their public enemy status got them apprehended in Boston, then she would have no need to let word spread beyond that.

Yep, Jolyne thought, that's a plan.

==BEN'S PARTY==

The Bassist and his Brazilian buddy hastened through the numerous back alleys; the hefty black man led on purely by Francesca's wit, which helped her determine which streets were most likely to provide escape routes and hiding spots.

Francesca led as best she could, frantically calculating where to turn, in relation to how close the gunfire seemed to be coming from and how tired they each seemed to be. It was only when a car passed the alley opening in front of them that they realized the gunfire had stopped completely.

Francesca panted, "We...we lost them. They're way back there somewhere."

Ben looked up to his shoulder, realizing that Byne was coming to. He patted his shirt off, in a futile attempt to clean what had been so grossly bloodied, and then set Byne to the ground, so he could get his footing. What they feared to be resumed gunfire turned out to be a passing chopper, and so they finally eased up a bit.

Francesca looked around, thinking of somewhere they could go and not be noticed. They were pretty close to a bank a couple of restaurants and...

"Aha!" Francesca's eyes brightened with her 'eureka' moment, and before she could proper explain what the hell she had in mind, she quickly entreated, "Byne, do you have a knife or something?"

He searched his pockets, only to find a pen.

"All I have is a--" Francesca grabbed the ballpoint pen from Byne's hand and quickly lunged it into his neck, much to the horror of both her comrades. Ben pushed Byne back to the ground to protect him from her.

"The hell are you doin'? You ain't even Francesca Vera Borges Santos, are ya? I bet you're a shapeshifter or somethin'!" He brandished his bass, ready to blast the impostor, but Francesca put her hands up.

"Chill, stupid. He's gonna be fine." She looked past Ben to Byne, who was still recovering from the shock of having been stabbed (as though he had been ready for it anytime before), "Right?"

He put his hand to the wound, wide-eyed, and then looked back to Francesca, without a word. Noticing the signs of impending death, Francesca looked over to Ben, "Help me get him over to that walk-in clinic."

Ben took a double-take, and looked back to Francesca as he realized that, once again, her ingenious mind was working in a way his mind had yet to comprehend.

"He's gonna be dead by the time we get him there!"

"Not with that little wound. Give it a couple minutes. By the time we get over there, his wound should be just big enough to warrant a band-aid and a kiss on his boo-boo."

Ben looked at her, unsure, for another instant, and then, as Byne's body was building up immunity to ink-poisoning and pen-stabs to the neck, the two assisted him across the street to the clinic for temporary shelter from their pursuers. Francesca's quick thinking was right on time, keeping them from the sights of two supers as they neared where the three had just been standing.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

==OVERLADY VANDAL-SAVAGE==

An immaculate piece of architecture, Savage Manor was, of course, the best kept home in all of Boston. The Savage Lady, despite her sadistic and insatiable blood-lust, made sure her home was neat at all times. There were times, however, when she loved to get down and dirty (vile, even). These times alone did she allow her house to be sullied; and she figured if it was going to be sullied, it might as well be by the blood of those she despised anyway. That way, she got rid of enemies, and got to have her wicked brand of fun at the very same time.

"Good afternoon." She looked condescendingly from her chair, which was situated atop a set of steps, like a throne.

"G-good afternoon..." her victim answered from the kneeling position that his shackles afforded him, not making eye contact.

"Good afternoon WHAT?" she raised her voice only slightly, but that change in tone hinted to the guard to brandish his weapon in case the captive decided to get smart.

"G-goo-good afternoon, Mistress."

Lillith smiled, pleased with the word as it escaped the captive's lips, "Better. Much better. Now...tell me, Grady, do you know what treason is?"

He nodded, causing her face to fall from her condescending glee.

"I don't...understand...nods." spat the Mistress through gritted teeth.

He spoke up sheepishly, "Yes."

"Ah, much better. Alright, so if you know what treason is, GRADY, why did my men catch you sneaking along the walls downtown? That's very sneaky, Grady. Treacherous, even. And I don't like treachery. It's a nasty word, and it sticks to th roof of my mouth like bad peanut butter..." she smiled a bit wider as he hung his head, "Tell me, what exactly did you have in mind that you would risk sneaking past supers with Superhuman Accuracy and Telescopic Vision? Must've been awfully important..."

Grady shook his head, "No...I just, I just don't like being watched."

Lillith sat up in her chair, seemingly amused by the decree.

"'I just...don't...like being watched.'" Lillith played with the words on her mouth, as though tasting them, "Interesting. I don't think I've ever heard that one before. Alright Grady. I'll tell you what. I'm going to cure you of your...fear of being watched. That's right, I'm gonna cure you, and it won't cost you one red cent."

Grady's eyes widened, and by the way the Overlady smiled, one would feel confident in guessing that she could see fear visibly emanating from him, like an unpleasant stink from the hide of something dead. She snapped back to a face of frigid disregard for human life and motioned over to the guard that stood by the door of the 'throne room'. He acknowledged her and then called to the chef down the hall. The chef brought in a very large two-pronged fork and left back to the kitchen. Lillith played the fork in her hands a second, and then bade Grady come hither. At Mistress Lil's inclination, the guards that towered over his kneeling form knelt down and undid the shackles. Grady hesitantly took a few steps forward until about six feet from the Savage Lady.

As he imagined a last-ditch plan of escape, all hopes of pulling it off were ceased with a single motion; the Overlady reached forward and only touched him on the forearm. She drew nearer for an instant to relish his fearful look as his body had been immobilized, immediately reprogrammed only to move at her will. It was then that she picked the fork up again and handed it to Grady. He accepted the fork against his will and held it with both hands.

"You don't like to see that you're being watched? You would have to be able to see others yourself, to tell if they were watching you or not. I think YOUR watching others is the real problem. So...do something about it. And make sure it's a complete job."

Momentarily, the man's pained shriek would be heard all down the hall.

After the quivering and traumatized man was escorted out to Lord-knows-where, a servant came in to clean up the mess, and Lillith stopped him before he left.

"Could you get a jar for these? I'd like to make sure his wife gets them safely..."

[Wish]

==Post omitted==

[Celadon's Penultimate]

Jolyne made sure that she hadn't left behind any of her equipment; fortunately, they had no interest in anything she had. So, with that, it was off to the Airport.

She had expected the place to be crowded, but it way more crowded than she had expected. She could barely stick her hand out without bumping into someone, or getting her hand knocked away by those who mistook her for a pickpocket among the chaos. She looked around for any familiar faces in vain, and then began to push her way through the crowd as best she could. She would have simply teleported to the highest point and tried to keep a watch out, but this dense crowd would make it hard to see without being up close and personal (no matter how smelly or rude the closeness might be).

She saw several heads of white hair, several shaved heads and several scowling faces, but none matched those of Jack, Wayne or Flores. She pondered where they would be, and how in the world she could find them.

==Wayne's Party==

The four pushed their way through the crowds gruffly, hoping they could find a terminal that hadn't been filled.

"Why is this place so packed?"

Flores looked around, trying to find Damien's face to answer, "I'll bet they're from the Mover's territory. Sh*t's goin' south over there in Indianapolis, so this must be the next best thing."

"An evil, sadistic, torture-happy control-freak like Savage? She's the safest option?"

"What are ya gonna do? She provides good health benefits."

They slogged through the crowd with that in mind. Fortunately, the majority of the people were getting off, so there was still hope of getting the hell out of dodge.

Just as the four arrived at the desk, the clerk further down announced over the intercom,"Terminal 12B now boarding."

"Four for 12B. That's Indianapolis, right?"

The clerk looked back at the flight schedule board, and back to the group, "Oh, sorry, just as I thought. You're looking for 11B. 12B's New York. Flights to Indianapolis are canceled. I'm sure you heard about the various protests and riots there, so--"

"Yeah, yeah," Wayne held up a hand nonchalantly, eyes trained on the board, "Anyway we can get to some city adjacent to Indianapolis? Avon, maybe or Castleton? We really have some important business there, and it's best we get there quick as possible."

The clerk didn't even bother to check her books or the board before responding, "Sorry, no. We're more than likely booked on all those flights. You know, loved ones trying to reach their embattled relatives. Closest I could get you is probably lower Kentucky."

Wayne swore, and the little boy behind him asked his mother what the dirty word meant; "Alright, then I guess we'll, uh..."

"PSSST!"

Wayne stopped mid-sentence, and turned to face whoever was psst-ing. A tall, dark-haired man jumped over the crowd and waved to him from about twenty feet away. Wayne pointed to himself to make sure he wasn't mistaken. Getting the confirmation, he pushed his way through the mass or people to meet the man who sought him out so.

"You wanted me for something?" he demanded.

"Yeah. I overheard you talkin' over there. You're trying to get to the Mover, right?"

Wayne took a half-step back, "Why?"

"I know you guys are rebels against the Overlords. I wanna help; I can get you there. Fast. Like, 'hold your breath, count to ten' fast."

Wayne looked over to Damien, Flores and Jack, and waved them over to where he was. They introduced themselves, and the mysterious dark-haired man introduced himself.

"Piotr Kosimov. Teleporter extraordinaire..."

"You mean we came all the way here, when we had a teleporter with us the whole time?" Flores groaned, 'If we were gonna teleport, we coulda just tried to get TORRES to take us!"

But Cosmo, as he was affectionately called by friends and loved ones alike, explained that his power was slightly different. In fact, vastly different. And if they were willing to trust him, he'd show them just HOW different. Naturally, the group was suspicious, and thought to ask just why they should accept his help. But their answer quickly came. Jack noticed her first, making her way closer and closer through the crowd.

"Jolyne!" Jack alerted just above a whisper to the others.

In unison, they quickly agreed, huddled closer together than was already being forced of them by the jam-packed airport, and the group was off.

It seemed at first like one of Torres's quick jaunts, but in an instant, everyone would know that it was not the same. Opening their eyes, the looked around to see...they were staring into the pitch-black void of outer space. A comet whizzed past an enormous unknown planet, as though just to remove any doubt they had. They were in space.

"What the--?"

No time to explain about his personal Dyson Sphere, Cosmo decided, and with another space-time rip, the group returned to Earth at the outskirts of a park. The sky was gray, stormy-looking, but soon they realized it was smoke. Turning around, they watched as the buildings were being torn apart, and the people rallied and rioted in unison, in the name of the utmost hatred that they shared for their so-called leader. They shouted and fought and vandalized and looted, all wishing the Mover was watching, in the hopes he'd despair to the point of a heart attack.

Indianapolis.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

The supers watched amazed, as they had never seen so many superhumans in an uproar, and had never seen so much carnage without also seeing an Overlord somewhere on the scene. Blasters launched bolts of energy into the crowd; telepaths shot visible bolts of psionic energy at foes; strongmen tore through buildings and others made sure they dealt as much damage as their abilities would allow.

The others only barely turned to face one another before Flores had bolted off from into their midst, to join the anarchic uprising.

"Well, personally," Cosmo spoke up, watching the half-crazed strongman head off into what promised to be a bloodbath, "I think we should all take a cue from him. See you guys later, I gotta go kick some a**."

With a smile and a gleam in his eye, Cosmo blinked off and reappeared in the distance, squaring off against a flier. At Cosmo's inclination, Wayne, Jack and Damien looked at one another and hurried off into the fight.

Jack looked around at all the disgruntled supers and tried to discern good from bad, but soon figured out that nobody could really tell the difference as of now. All emotional tensions had come to a boil, and no one knew who was on the Mover's side, or who was against him, or who was just there for the heck of it. His musing was quickly cut off by a lightning bolt that streaked just a few inches in front of his nose. He looked at the sassy electrokinetic who had thrown the arc his way, and it was decided. She had chosen him to be her dance partner.

As Jack tangled with her, Wayne had his own problems. He and Damien had headed off to deal a shady-looking group that seemed to be up to no good, and they had gotten themselves in more trouble than they seemed able to handle. There was about twenty of them, and they all looked the same, causing Wayne to mistake them for a replicator. Big mistake. When one was shot in the leg, he simply hobbled weakly over to the rest, and they melded together to form the man's TRUE form. Thirty feet tall, a good two or three tons, easy. This wouldn't be pleasant.

Flores, however, was having a bit more fun with his sparring partner. A strange bird, he was, with a long, prehensile tongue. Blond, with a playful gleam in his blue-gray eyes. Flores cocked back his fist and hoped to smash the little freak in his jaw (he seemed as good a target as any to whale on in the turmoil), but that tongue darted out like that of a frog, and latched onto the strongman's foot; he yanked Flores up, and whirled around, slamming him into several other supers before hurling him bodily to the ground with a hard thud. Flores struggled to get up to his feet, but the tongue darted out again.

Flores looked behind him, thinking that the tongue missed him. Instead, it caught another super by the neck who intended to sneak the strongman from behind. Slightly muffled by virtue of his outstretched tongue, his blond opponent remarked, "Nobody kicks your a** right now but me."

And taking that as a hint that they were still on opposing teams, Flores grabbed hold of that sticky tongue with a wicked smile, much to the blond kid's dismay, and slung him by it, hurling him off into some other section of the massive crowd.

"D*** weird kid."

[667]

"Weird kid," echoed a nurse in a far-distant clinic.

"What do you mean?" asked her compatriot.

She gestured at the pale, but not yet blue, body on the gurney before her. "Look at this guy. Took a sharp implement to the neck, but it took him forever to kick it. And even now, ongoing coagulation is evident. It's trying to heal."

"Sweetheart, all the texts are wrong. There's just too many metabolisms to keep track, you know?" The other nurse walked over to the door and invited the first to the bar across the street. As they left, they had to duck by some doctors in ill-fitting coats.

"Nurse," the black one ground out.

"Doctor," she replied.

"Doctor," echoed the other, female, doctor.

"Yes. Doctor. Two doctors," the black guy said.

"Two doctors indeed," said the woman doctor.

The nurses left, rather confused. Ben and Francesca let out monolithic sighs and went inside the autopsy room. Franscesca checked a watch made of machined cuckoo-clock parts and the filaments of lightbulbs. "He's been down for 70 minutes now. Is this normal?"

Ben danced imperceptably from foot to foot. He felt naked. "Depends. You just caused some standard physical damage, but there's also the ink. I can guarantee THAT'S never been in his heart." Just as his voice finished echoing off the walls, the blackness of the corpse's veins began to fade to blue and the veins of the temple began to flush.

Byne sat bolt upright and gasped painfully. He rubbed the milkiness out of his eyes. "What the hell, Francesca Santos?" he cried.

She immediately moved to shush him. "We were being followed. So I got us in here, and made us stay for however long it took you to die and get better. They've gone on, I can guarantee you."

Byne didn't know whether to kiss her or slap her. He decided on the middle ground. "Who were they?"

Ben replied, "It really doesn't matter, Byne. We've got so many people on our ass--it could be Lee-Lee, or Lilith, or some of the Mover's guys. It could even be Fred Anullin."

Francesca's eyes widened. "It IS Fred Anullin. I guarantee you."

Byne swung his legs off the gurney; thankfully they hadn't had time to undress his prostrate form and he was at least wearing his pants. "What makes you say that? The guy is literally in bed with Lee-Lee. They're at least on good terms because they like the way the other's face looks in the moonlight. Why would he have guys after us?"

Ben's callused hands began to gesture. "Just because he's been her lover doesn't make them the same person, or even close." He sighed as the weight of a thousand nights fell back on his shoulders. "It's supposed to work like that, but sometimes...sometimes it's just filling a need. Like eating, or drinking." He stared at the thick skin of his fingerpads and let the autopsy room be sterile for him.

Francesca broke it. "Maybe it's not Fred, but he definitely tipped Lilith Vandal-Savage off. We're her problem now." She grinned sharply. "I'll bet that Ivan musta sparked some of that old manful jealousy. An avatism if I ever saw one."

Byne was struck with the knowledge that these would be huge leaps of faith for anyone for whom the world wasn't a spiderweb of connection. He sighed and took his own leap: "What do we do next, Francesca?"

%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&

She explained this as they dove down alleys and dodged eyes.

"See, guys, Vandal-Savage is nothing less than a snake. Her ability let her control anything with a mind; literally anyone could be a sleeper agent. She's got eyes everywhere, especially in this city. I guarantee she knows that we've escaped her sight." She halted, looking down a black-and-white corridor to a smoggy destination. They bolted for it, the only sound being footfalls and the flat thumping of Ben's bass on his back. They broke through the fog to find themselves in a screaming factory.

The noise was massive, but Francesca's dry voice sliced through the clanking. "We got to get out of this town. Everything is an eye or an ear. We can't make a rebellion."

Byne grabbed her thin arm. "Are you saying we GIVE UP without TRYING?"

The machines' grinding was his answer. Francesca just broke free and started walking again.

Byne turned to Ben. His eyes were impossibly heartbroken but also unnaturally sober. "She's right. She's always right. Vandal-Savage would tear us apart and not even smile. The only way to get around this is to have people we know she hasn't touched--and those people are us three. Face it, man. Boston's a goner."

He ran after Francesca. Byne's armored heart died a little bit, but for good.

%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%

They made it out of the city and into the suburbs. The houses were all pink pastel and all perfect. The three walked under streetlights and stepped over cans. Ben was puffing and grunting and sweating drops from the top of his shaved head. He raised a hand and waved for a stop. They did, under a lamp thudding with moths and glaring orangely at their faces.

Francesca eyed the moths.

Ben paid them no mind. While he was resting, his fingers worked idly with the zipper of his case, his hands at the neck of his huge bass. As he sat in the damned town under the godforsaken light in the painted neighborhood, Ben's hands worked at the instrument.

The whole world against him, his life barely in his hands, every childhood friend forgotten and no parent's love impressed inside him, and with God's green earth being scorched beneath man, Ben played anyway.

It was sweet and deep.

%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%

They went into the country. It unfolded before them like a gray moss rug. The sky was gray as Byne's deathmask, the trees as skeletal as Francesca's skull, the crows black like Ben and shiny like oil. They saw a man, a farmer.

Byne sighed a bit and hailed him. The old man came running; he held a trowel soiled by dirt. He started to talk to them warmly, kindly. Every one of them was invited into his farmhome; he fed them with a thick stew and with milk from a mournful cow.

They were telling jokes when the phone rang, and the old man picked it up mid-laugh. It choked. A nightshade-silken and yet shatteringly female voice flipped a switch deep inside his brain and the toxin planted in his body when he was young caused his mind to drop out like a murderer from the gallows.

The old man swung at Byne with a letter opener. Byne reacted too fast. His savagery was young, but the old man's body was about to break like a windowpane at the barest suggestion.

Byne suggested.

They buried him and let his cow go before heading deeper into the wilderness.

%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&

The pine trees were huge.

They'd managed to go into a woods. Civilization was not far enough behind them to forget, but it did seem that among these massive trees and these small shrubs and these choked weeds there could be a haven here. Francesca's goal was simply to escape as fast as she could; Ben and Byne only knew that they were headed west or northwest. Still, it wasn't as though they couldn't see her point.

Especially after the paratroopers.

They weren't conventional. One dropped like a stone and stood to his full height seconds afterwards, stepping out of his crater with a lithified foot and shrugging shoulders as smooth as a gargoyle's. Byne attacked, bounced off. The stone man raised his fists to crush, but Byne got his forearms up in time--hard as steel or at least harder than rock. The assailant's arms broke off at the wrist and as he cried in dulled pain, Byne swung his arm like a club at his head. His bone won again.

Francesca was ambushed in her toilet. The wraith managed to catch her with her pants down, literally but not figuratively. As he solidified to interact more lethally with her throat, he was met by a sharp stick to his own neck. She finished up and left him to rot.

Ben was ambushed by a thing that looked much like someone he had once loved. He took it apart to a cloud of vapors and a pile of carbon with no sign of pain.

They were in the Pine Barrens.

Vandal-Savage was the least of their problems.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

Wayne's face turned into a scowl as the supers went back to pummeling each other.

Flores re-tightened his hateful grip on an elastic.

Jack and his lovely opponent resumed their fight.

Damien busied himself felling fliers with his ability.

Cosmo took back to jaunting through the air to take on his flying foe.

But as they all battled these people who were their enemies for no reason at all, all but Cosmo recognized a familiar sight that they hoped never to see again. Stomping through the crowd, slamming and smashing supers left and right, a forty-foot-tall giant barged through the masses with an evil grin on his face. A normal-sized man clung on to the size-shifter's front belt loops for dear life, and thrust people out of his way with a forceful wave of his free hand. Was that--

"Phil and Willis", Wayne ground out, before delivering a swift punch to a shapeshifter's gut.

The duo grinned hatefully at the "lowlies", as their former boss would call them, and gladly kept one another safe from any harm they were threatened with. If they were weak, they were stomped on and kicked aside ; if they were strong, they were telekinetically slammed and hurled out of the way (and fliers, if they dawdled, were swatted down, or literally plucked from the air and thrown elsewhere). Any opportunity to harm the innocent, and perhaps claim a throne for themselves, the two were in. They would work out the details of who would actually rule later.

Wayne looked around through the crowd as his opponent struggled against his headlock; any inanimate object moving, or people moving against their will would tip him off to the presence of the twin dominators, Bruce and Bruno.

Not seeing signs of the two, he finished the shapeshifter with a gunshot to the forehead and turned invisible. Ducking behind one of the many cars that had been overturned in the uproar, he fondled his pockets for a light grenade. One left, he realized with a grimace. He looked over the car's hood, and aimed precariously for the giant. Tossing it into the air with all his might, his projectile would not reach its target, instead being rapt up by an avian flier who had swooped down just in time to accidentally intercede.

"Toss it at the giant!" Wayne exclaimed, annoyed. But, too late. The avian had taken wing, and was too busy trying to wonder what it was to discard the invisible light bomb. Wayne felt he had no choice. He simply lay in wait imperceptibly, dodging the passing supers as need be, and let the light-sensitive explosive reappear about twenty feet away from his giant target. The avian barely escaped the blast, leaving a few feathers scorched.

Damien put forth his hands to down the down-covered no-good-nik, but Wayne stopped him, turning visible again. He whistled to the avian as he passed overhead yet again, and put his hands up, hoping the bird-brain would get the drift. He did. Wayne's ride quickly swooped down, scorched feathers and all, picking up the world's second best assassin by his talons, and took to the air yet again. The giant Willis and his telekinetic buddy Phil could wait for now; the two would pair up to take down as many other baddies as they could, even if their alliance was only temporary.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

The Mover looked at his monitor intently.

"Savages, all of them; and the fact that Lillith is welcoming them into her territory consequence-free is no help. Did I ever tell you how I've always despised how she runs things?"

"Yes, Overlord. Now, I expect that you'll be wanting the report on the projects you ordered?" Eddie Bryant shuffled papers nervously in a futile attempt to organize them.

"Ah, yes, how are my girls, Maiden and Virago?"

"Well, Virago is a girl after your own heart, like you ordered. Her telekinetic abilities are getting stronger by the day. She's very smart, too, as planned."

"And her memory?"

"Blank as ever, other than what we tell her."

"Good, good. The fail-safe is a definite must. But...what about the weapon itself?" The Mover asked, enjoying the thought of the two working together to do his bidding.

"Oh, Maiden is just fine. A bit broody, and serious, but I think we can use it. Might I ask, though, sir...why give her such a powerful superhuman ability? I never got the chance to ask before, but it's been weighing heavily on my brain..."

The Mover blinked, thinking of an adequate answer for the poindexter to be satisfied.

"Just power-hungry I guess. A psionic of that magnitude, at my disposal? Who wouldn't want that sort of power? That sort of influence? She'll be the best weapon to ever cross the face of the earth. And if she gets out of line, Virago will straighten her out."

Eddie blanched, "And...how do we straighten Virago out if SHE goes bad?"

The Mover whirled around with a scowl, "What do you mean? Is she showing signs of--?"

"No, sir. Like I said, she's blank as ever. Her memory was completely wiped. Only YOU have knowledge of her true identity, far as our intelligence can gather."

The Mover smirked momentarily, "Then, show them to me."

The lab rat hurried back off to see about the two lovely weapons. The two, Maiden and Virago were a welcome sight to him; he'd hoped they wouldn't be sulking in their rooms, or (in Maiden's case) in the bathroom at the disdain of being observed.

"What do you want, Lab Rat?" Maiden grumbled.

"Oh, nothing, ladies; as you were. I've just come to set up the surveillance for the Overlord."

Maiden's face fell from even the scowl she usually had plastered across her face,and she apathetically resumed reading the book she had dedicated herself to, named simply: Quantum Physics.

Virago, on the other hand, was more upbeat than her blond counterpart; she brushed back a tress of brown hair from her face, and asked the poindexter to play a game of Mancala with her.

"No, not now. I'm really busy."

"Doing what?" Virago asked quizzically, "Anything I can help with?"

"No. It's really important that I get it done quickly and efficiently."

Virago sunk back into her seat, and decided instead to go back to her Rubik's cube. She reached a hand forth, causing the quizzical cube to levitate; a few twists, a few turns, a mid-air inspection of all the sides, and Virago finished yet another. She sunk further into her seat.

"This is boring, Eddie. Don't you have anything else for us to do? It doesn't even have to be fun; I just want to keep busy, really."

Eddie faced her briefly, and turned back to the TV, tossing the remote over his shoulder.

"Go nuts, V. I really need to find the surveillance cable."

Virago's face fell, "Well, fine. If you want to be snippy about it, it's in your left pocket."

Eddie patted his lab coat frantically, before feeling the solid lump and doing an annoyed face-palm. Virago clicked the TV on, and Eddie went to the other one to hook up surveillance. Virago listened quietly a few minutes, before something caught her eye.

"Good evening, I'm Travis Washington, live in Indianapolis for the 6 o'clock news. Today,we bring you to the site of mass rioting and looting. Most humans have fled, leaving their super counterparts to wreak havoc as they see fit. Fliers, strongmen, ferals, shapeshifters and the like--they've all gone awry, and there's very little anyone can do about it Except get rid of the Mover, and he isn't intent on going anywhere anytime soon. In fact, it's rumored that his scientists and techs are working on a brand new project just to keep the unruly supers in check. Project M.A.I.D.E.N, that is Matrix of Artificial Intelligence Designed for Elimination and Neutralization, and its counterpart Project V.I.R.A.G.O, that is Virtual Intelligence Reticulated as a Gynecologically-correct Operative. The details of the two projects are unknown, but speculation is mounting. More info about potential information on the products at 11."

The room was silent. And then...

"What is that man talking about, Lab Rat?"

"Now, now calm down, Maiden. You know when your temper gets out of hand--"

"What are YOU going to do if my temper gets out of hand? Tranquilize me? Hurt me? Neutralize me? Last thing I heard, that was MY job. Or so I'm told..." Maiden narrowed her eyes hatefully, and the gravity seemed to flux around her, causing the table at which she sat to grow heavier, while the papers that littered it grew lighter.

"Now, calm down, Maiden, Eddie was just--wait a second. Weapon?" Virago paused. "You mean, you had us here on purpose? You told us that you found us. You offered to help us control our abilities. You...you LIED!"

The door slammed with no apparent cause, and the electricity began to flicker. Eddie backed up as the two approached menacingly and nearly tumbled over the chair behind him. When finally they had cornered him, he looked around for some way to escape. The only solution?

"ALERT. ALERT. UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL IN THE LAB. ALERT. ALERT. UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL IN THE LAB." The panic button on the wall blared loudly. When the reinforcements arrived to try to take care of the problem, however, they would find nothing but the poindexter unconscious and the room in shambles. Perhaps two of the most dangerous beings on earth were now on the run.

"You WHAT?!" The Mover was fuming, "I leave them in your care as experiments, and you turn them into house pets? Two superhumans capable of wiping out a town in three hours flat, and they roam around your laboratory unchecked? Virago not in her anti-telekinetic chamber? Maiden not in the psionic holding room? What sort of idiot--?"

"Uh, genius level intellect, sir."

"Don't test me, brainiac. I'd rip you in two if you weren't so d*** valuable."

"Don't worry, sir, we can fix this."

The Mover stopped his tirade, "How?"

"The two don't get along very well. They'll more than likely split up. And when they do, Maiden will be defenseless against psionic attacks, while Virago will just need the Anti-Telekinetic Squad to bring her down. All will be well. See, I really did think of everything."

The Mover menaced the genius, wondering if he really was what he claimed to be.

"Do it quick."

Working together, the two would reach the streets in a half-hour. Maiden looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and she was off.

"Where are you going?" called Virago.

"None of your business, V. I happen to be a free woman now. My life is mine. No more mind-numbing experiments. No more confinement 'for my own good'. And best of all, Princess, no more YOU. With these powers, my life will be perfect."

Maiden took only a few more steps before hearing, "What makes you think I'll let you?"

She stopped on a dime, and replied over her shoulder, "LET me? I'd like to see you stop me!" She trudged on defiantly, intent on leaving behind the life she had refused to get accustomed to, despite it being all she remembered. Her shoulder felt a tug, although Virago was a few yards away.

"You and I need to stay together. It's the only way that we can avoid being re-captured." Virago crossed her arms adamantly.

[Sinrus]

It was time for them to move on. They had more important things to do in Indianapolis than screw around in the chaos. So the supers disengaged themselves from their opponents and waded in towards the center of the city.

The riots were organized around a center point, a sort of fulcrum where the madness and free-for-alls of the outskirts solidified into a definite purpose. Here there were clearly defined sides; riot police in dark uniforms, forsaking any pretense of being peace keepers, beat the crowds back with everything from nightsticks to huge flaming hands. Bands of riot police roamed the city, crushing pockets of demonstrators wherever they were found; but this was still just a series of skirmishes on the side. The main attraction was still ahead.

And then, all of a sudden, they came upon it. The Mover had constructed himself a fortress of black stone in the heart of Indianapolis. It was a horrid, Gothic creation; all dark windows, sharp spires, and crouching gargoyles. Protruding from the face of the citadel was a great balcony, of the type from which speeches are made by a leader to a great crowding multitude in a courtyard below. Today the leader was absent from his post. The great crowding multitude was, nevertheless, still there.

This multitude was very unlike the kind that would come to listen to speeches, however. Where speech-goers would have flags and banners, this crowd had stakes and torches. Where speech-goers would cheer, this crowd shouted obscene and threatening exclamations of hatred. This crowd covered the courtyard of multicolored stone to an inch, and was still pressing forward. They were restrained by a thin, bedraggled line of riot police; undoubtedly the best of the best, because despite being outnumbered by a ridiculous margin, they had still succeeded in holding back the rioting demonstrators from the Mover's black citadel.

With a cry of joy, Flores threw himself into the crowd. The rest followed suit.

An uncountable amount of time went by. Shouting and smoke filled the air, fire and fighting filled their minds. And then with a jolt, the whim of the crowd forced them together again, near the edge of the courtyard, away from the press of the riot. That saved all of their lives.

This was because, on the balcony above, a lone figure had appeared. She was a girl, seemingly no more than twenty, with pale skin and near-white hair. The rioters did not respond well to the appearance of a member of the enemy; no sooner had she stepped into view than an arc of purple energy flew towards her, seeming to snarl as it went. The girl squealed and ducked, the bolt zipping past her and burrowing through the stone of the fortress.

Encouraged by her fear, the crowd launched a furious barrage on the balcony. Unnoticed by any of the protesters, the riot police took this opportunity to slink away into the building and nurse their many wounds.

Meanwhile, the stone of the balcony defended the girl from the worst of the attacks. She quickly regained the courage to stand, and although almost immediately a lock of hair was singed off her head, she bore a fiercely determined expression. She reached out a hand and, just like that, the attack stopped. A veil of calm settled over the crowd.

The shouts turned to mutters and attacks fizzed and died in midair. Through this temporary atmosphere of peace, Wayne chanced to hear one low voice growl, "Shit. It's her. Come on Snipe, we're getting the hell out of here. Now."

Hearing this, Wayne quickly decided that it formed a good case for them to get the hell out of there as well. He conveyed this message to the others in low tones and began to drag them from the crowd.

It was lucky that they were so near the edge; in hardly fifteen seconds, the entire group had extricated itself from the crush. The two who Wayne had heard earlier were running off as fast as their legs could take them; deciding that he had already committed himself to copying them and that it would stupid to stop now, turned the group transparent and took off in pursuit.

Behind them, the girl had mustered the strength to perform her duty. The air seemed to become like mist, yet not; heavy and slow, but clear and dry. Ripples appeared and twisted, like snakes in the water, tranquil, but still threatening. And then they struck. The air currents stopped abruptly and launched themselves at the courtyard, splintering into a thousand tiny shards of invisible, yet tangible energy, striking like a barrage of arrows into the pacified crowd. In an instant, they vanished.

The sheer weight and volume of the bodies held each other up for a moment. But then, slowly and inexorably, they collapsed. The courtyard had become a graveyard.

The girl swayed and collapsed. From the fortress emerged a servant, who gingerly carried her back inside.

Below, an invisible hand swept the courtyard clear of corpses.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

"My ability is just fine to avoid re-capture." Maiden scoffed.

But Virago wasn't so sure. She seemed to get a giggle out of the fact that Maiden thought she could get along without her for more than ten minutes. The genuinely jovial smirk on Virago's face made Maiden's face fall into a scowl. Her eyes glazed glue and, if one had the audacity to get close enough, they would see strange codes streaming across her eyes. Her hands glowed the same blue, and with the raise of her arms, pillars of earth erected themselves from the surrounding concrete. At her inclination, the pillars detached themselves and went flying toward Maiden's rival, full force.

"Laugh at that!" Maiden spat.

CRASH. A plume of dirt, rock and debris rose from where Virago stood. But as Maiden proceeded to walk away again, another telekinetic force extended from behind to reach her, this time, shoving her across the street, causing her to go headfirst into a car.

Maiden used her power to get to her feet, and dust herself off. Whipping her head around furiously, she noticed that there stood Virago in the middle of a crater, protected by a faintly-glowing purple forcefield. Maiden narrowed her eyes, and Virago smirked again. This was going to be good.

Her opponent's face curled into a smile, coming to the same conclusion. It had been a while since Eddie had been foolish enough to let them spar in his laboratory, and they certainly could do with the exercise. As though by some intuitive psychic agreement between the two, they took fighting stances and the battle was on.

Maiden raised her hands overhead and pounded balled fists onto the ground, unleashing a powerful seismic ripple in Virago's direction. Virago took the backlash, relieved slightly by telekinetic protection, and threw a bolt of telekinetic force at Maiden. Maiden flew back into the same car as before, leaving a second dent. As she tried to pull herself from the second dent, she looked up, only to realize that yet another car was hurtling through the air toward her. Frantic, she had no other choice. The second car crashed on the first, and when Virago looked through the debris cloud, Maiden phased through the heaped cars back onto the street.

"Clever, Virago," Maiden huffed, "But, it's gonna take more than that--"

Virago outstretched her hand yet again. Maiden looked down, not feeling the telekinetic force this time, and scoffed.

"Maybe I'm stronger than I thought. Either that, or you missed."

Virago, right hand still outstretched, pointed behind her, and gave Maiden only time enough to turn around before bringing the car heap hurling forward at Maiden. As though a giant, invisible baseball player had just come to bat, Maiden went hurling through the air, and had to stop herself a few feet before she impacted with a live telephone wire.

She eased herself down from the impending danger and Virago readied herself for more. Aiming to please, Maiden looked around for something to throw at her foe. Seeing nothing suited to do as much damage as she wanted, her hands began to glow blue, and she decided it was time to just make her own weapons. Her hands aglow, she sped toward Virago, and began to pound on the telekinetic's forcefield with all her might.

Virago watched her nemesis pound the field with smug delight, but soon realized that Maiden would be the one laughing if she didn't do something quick. The field began to ripple and crack. Virago looked to either side of her, trying to find a quick escape route. Finding none, her eyes went aglow, and numerous tentacles extended from her forcefield, seizing Maiden forcefully. Directed by Virago's hands, the free tentacles touched the forcefield, restoring it to full strength, and then rejoined the other tentacles to constrict Maiden. Taking her by the arms and legs, Virago looked up at Maiden, and contemplated where to toss her.

Coming to a quick snap decision, she began to spin the forcefield around, swinging Maiden around with it. Faster and faster it swung, faster and faster, until it rivaled the speed of a sports car at top speed. Reaching the fastest that her power would allow her, Virago released tension in the tentacles. Maiden went clear over the buildings.

==WAYNE'S PARTY==

Wayne waded through the masses of supers, trying to follow the two who obviously were intuitive enough, or informed enough, to know that the girl in the balcony was trouble. No good. They were lost in the crowd as soon as they were discovered, and soon they would fade from mind. Something much bigger would quickly catch everyone's attention. No sooner than the supers seemed to reach the peak of their hostility and unbridled wrath, did Maiden come crashing down into their midst. A powerful ripple of psychic power erupted from the site of her landing, throwing numerous supers, and Maiden pulled herself up, yet again.

"Damn her..." Maiden grumbled, looking to either side.

Her hands aglow, she smacked aside the numerous superhumans fool enough to think that she had come there for the brawl. As they encroached in heavier numbers, however, she knew there was bound to be a telekinetic in their midst. She rose into the air, and formed her psionic energy into a large hand. The hand flexed a second and then formed into a fist, pummeling the ground. The same hand rose again, caught a metalman, and slung him around, beating the others away. But this wouldn't be able to hold them off long. Maiden drifted back to the ground, forcefielded, and trudged through the masses to make her way closer and closer to the outskirts of the city.

She didn't even care that she had no idea where the hell that was. The supers were all getting on her nerves, especially the one called Virago. How she hated that telekinetic goody-goody. Always doing as she was told, ever-grateful to that sniveling poindexter for something he didn't even do. Feeling that it was her responsibility to be nice, and be good, and make Maiden do the same. What made her feel like she could be the boss, Maiden would never know. But now, that would be over. All she would need to do, all that would be needed to be free of this terrible place and all the terrible memories it held, would be to find a teleporter. A flier. Hell, even a jumper or a digger; any super with a transportation type power would do. She would be glad to boost their powers temporarily, in exchange for them to help her leave for good.

Out in the distance, supers shouted in dismay as they were blasted aside by a familiar purple energy. Another blast aimed toward the ground, and Virago hurled herself into the air toward Maiden to continue their duel.

[Wish]

==Post omitted==

[Celadon's Penultimate]

Heels clomped hard on the ground. The supers in their immediate area took cover, except for the tanks, the fliers and the teleporters. The showdown would finally be over between them, and a winner would be decided at last. The two squared themselves, narrowing their eyes and menacing one another, and the psychics in the vicinity could clearly feel a disturbance.

Maiden glowed blue, and Virago glowed purple.

With an uncharacteristic war cry, Virago cocked her hand back into a fist and went charging for her adversary. Maiden put up a blue-tinged shield and stood her ground.

Reasonably frustrated with the field Maiden put up, Virago slammed the fist into the ground a few feet in front of Maiden, and catapulted her into the air. Again, Maiden stabilized her flight pattern, and hovered there for a second, not wanting to give the telekinetic time to spy her. She dug down deep within herself, and let out a monstrous wail.

A supersonic scream so devastating that it shattered many eardrums, many windows and many pairs of glasses. It blew a great deal of supers back, even a few of the tanks who dared remain in their midst. But not Virago. Virago heard the devastating sonic assault perfectly, but fortunate for her semi-circular canals, they had been cybernetically fortified with soundproof nanocytes, meaning the sound had been negated in her eardrums once it went to high.

Maiden cursed. Had Virago been specially designed just to defeat her? It seemed so. And yet, she knew there must be a way that she could take down the telekinetic goody two-shoes.

"You d*** goody-goody! All you want to do is take me down so you can look good in the Mover's eyes!"

"What?" Virago replied quizzically.

"You heard me! You only want to control me, just like you were programmed to do! Like the Mover wants you to do!"

The supers in the area stopped in their tracks. The frightened ones came out of concealment. The tanks leaned in and cracked their knuckles.

"You mean this b***h works for the Mover?" a random super called out in outrage, "And she's trying to take you back to be experimented on?"

Maiden nodded, arms now crossed, a stare accusingly pointed directly at Virago, who didn't take the accusation well. She looked around to the others, hoping they would believe her plea to be heard.

"What?! That isn't what I had in mind at all!" Virago rebutted.

The supers encroached menacingly close.

"I only wanted us to stick together!"

"For what?!" the supers snarled at Virago, growing threateningly closer and closer.

"To take him down! You forgot, Maiden, he used me too!"

The supers slowly but surely backed off. Finally realizing that Virago was no longer on the Mover's side, and coming to the unanimous agreement that the Mover was a royal pain in the a**, the supers all huddled together, with a forcefield put up by Maiden. Now was the time to take down the Mover.

As the supers plotted the Mover's demise, Wayne came crashing down bodily, and bounced off of the field with an amusing noise. His avian friend came tumbling after him, and the two vocalized in unison their new-found hatred of telekinetics, causing Virago to turn briefly from the huddle, which distracted their meeting of the minds.

"Excuse me," Virago spoke up, looking down at the two in a heap, just outside of the forcefield, "What in the world were you two doing?"

Wayne stumbled to his feet.

"You see that big guy over there?"

Virago nodded.

"That there is Willis, and old friend. On his belt-loop, he has Phil, another old friend. While I tried to kick my BIG old friend's a**, my REGULAR sized old-friend laid a wallop on my NEW friend here. Whats your name kid?"

"B-B-Bobby." The avian coughed, brushing himself off.

"Yeah, he laid the smack-down on Bobby, which lands us over here in the middle of your, uh...say, just what the hell ARE you-all doin' over here?"

Virago looked back to the others, "You think these two can be trusted?"

They looked to one another, and supposed so with a unanimous shrug.

"We're putting together plans to take down the Mover...you think you can help us?"

Wayne thought to himself a moment with a faint smile. He looked back to the Avian, Bobby, who nodded, readily.

"When my other friends get here, you can fill them in, but for now, tell me what you've got so far..."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

The Mover looked out of his window, as his squads mobilized to take down Maiden and Virago.

"It can't be long now. Isn't that right, Eddie?"

"Uh, yes, sir. It shouldn't be long. Well, unless..."

The Mover whirled around, "Unless? Unless what?"

Eddie gulped, "Unless...they've found a way to work together...in which case, I would go into hiding."

A telekinetic hand slammed him against the wall, and the Mover neared with menace, "HOW LIKELY IS THAT TO HAPPEN?"

Eddie choked out, "Not likely, sir...just weighing our options." and dropped to the floor.

And as he finished weighing their options, Virago and Maiden slowly made their way closer and closer to the manor of the Mover. Fortunately, now, however, they were under the combined cover of Wayne's Transparency and Maiden's Imperceptibility. Phasing invisibly through the crowd made their walk much shorter, and being totally inaudible was definitely to their advantage.

For a split second, they were perceived by a clairaudient, who turned to look straight at them. He had caught them. But, hearing their thoughts and their intentions, a smile crept across his face, and he was silent about what he had picked up on.

Finally the group would reach the steps of the manor of the Mover.

"Alright, here's the plan. Damien and Maiden and Jack and I are going in to the left wing. Flores, you go with Virago down the right. Bobby, you take Jared and Sophie to release their prisoners. When they're out, they'll be out for blood, so let them in on the plan, too, and when you're done there, you can meet us in the Mover's room, on the third floor."

The groups split up. Time to take down the Mover.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

When the train finally arrived in Chicago, it was a great relief to Ivan and the gang. It was expected they could at least blend in with the other oppressed and find some sundry comfort as they had with Louisiana. Perhaps see the sites, explore a little and kick a little bad-guy butt if things went according to schedule. And yet...

Here they found no such feeling of comfort. Fitz had a creeping tingle that crept up and down his back; the hair stood uncomfortably on the back of Ivan's neck; Tessa got bad vibes all around; Pierce played electricity in his hands to downplay the air of fear and unease that haunted his subconscious; even Nadia got a chill down her spine.

"Hell, this place is...creepy. I wonder if the sky is always this gloomy here." she remarked, hoping she'd remembered to bring a coat.

"Ah doubt it," Fitz attempted to reassure her, "there's no way the sky could be stuck like tha'. It's probably jus' about t'rain."

"Do you feel any drops? 'Cause I don't feel a spark of electricity in the air. Not a bit." Pierce shuddered.

His reasoning seemed a bit more ominous than sarcastic, and so the gang left it at that. But perhaps his serious expression and the tone of his voice confirmed what they all were feeling at the time. It was unsure in their midst what exactly made them feel so uneasy.

Was it simply the shocking transition from laid-back, down-home New Orleans to the morbid, socially-oppressed and apprehensive air of Chicago?

Did they somehow know what the Overlady of this place had in mind for them? They certainly felt as though they could guess. They imagined what manner of tortures could await them if they had been foiled in their attempt to dethrone the Overlord known fretfully as the Raven Lady. Her reputation certainly preceded her, and gave pause to any attempt to attack her head on.

But here they only imagined her fearful countenance, and even Ivan got the willies. Certainly there was a reason for it. As if deciding finally for the entire group that they had thought enough about how frightened they were of the Raven Lady (and what she could possibly do to oppose them), Ivan spoke finally.

"We need to find some place to sleep already. I'm train-lagged, dammit, and I ain't got time fer thinkin' about the atmosphere." He trudged ahead of the rest, with Fitz trailing behind him hesitantly.

"Ya mean, you feel it too? The creepy air, ah mean."

"Yeah, I feel it, TOAD." Ivan snapped, contention aimed only at himself for his subconscious cowardice, "An' I don't like it. Somethin' ain't right. Even the weather ain't right. It just...ain't right."

With a nod of dismal agreement among them, they were off into the streets, and would find a hotel, after a good two-mile walk. The others sat down yet again and it was up to Ivan to get them somewhere to sleep.

"Oi, mate, you gotta special or somethin' on rooms? We need somethin' cheap fer four people."

The clerk's face fell into cynical disdain.

"No offense, uh, 'mate', but this here isn't a restaurant. Ya can't have it your way. You pay full-price for the room or it's MY a**. I don't have time to haggle, and I'm not gonna."

Ivan glared at the thin-framed glorified bell-boy. Obviously younger, and must not have had a power, because when Ivan menaced him, he flinched, although almost-imperceptibly. He decided he would work it. He leaned in, eyed every part of the boy that he could see, and narrowed his eyes with an air of bullying menace. He clenched his hands into fists, one of which rested on the concierge bell and crushed it into a ball.

Seeing he had gotten the boy's attention, he started again, "A'right. Let's try this again. I need a room. I need a discount. I ain't got money. I ain't got patience. Whaddya say? Wanna help me out?"

The boy hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. He turned frantically to find a two keys before a voice stopped him.

"No need for the hostility, boys." A dark-haired man smirked; beside him stood a brunette with glasses, "Name's Adam. If it's okay with you, brother, I'll pay for your room."

Ivan looked at him quizzically, "...What? You pullin' my leg?"

"Nope. No prob, Bob. Long as...uh...we can room with you guys in return..."

[Celadon's Penultimate]

After checking a couple more times to make sure Adam would be okay with paying, and checking a few places for hidden cameras, he accepted the offer. The three made their way over to the others with the news.

"A'right, guys. Room's been paid for. And you guys owe our new friends, Adam and Anita, a space to sleep."

"Why'zat?" Fitz inquired.

"They paid fer everythin', that's why. Now, just fer askin' stupid questions, ADAM takes whatever bed YOU choose."

Fitz grumbled under his breath and then followed the others as they made their ways up to their rooms. The grumbling stopped, however, when they reached their room.

The accouterments were lovely. The minibar was full, and indicated to be free. The beds were plush (although there weren't enough for all of them); the TV guide had a star lineup, and room service was always no-charge on a first-nights' stay. When the boys came to, they drooled boyishly over their newfound temporary mini-heaven. Within minutes they would be fighting over whose turn it was, and who beat who, in the video game they had rented for the night.

But soon enough, the energy in the room wore down; they were all still very tired, no matter how much any of their minds were amused by the creature comforts they enjoyed. Before anyone truly noticed anything, Ivan was slumped across one bed snoring, Adam across the other bed muttering softly in his sleep, Pierce on the floor with a controller still in hand, and Fitz in the chair from which he played the role of scorekeeper. Mark lay asleep in the chair opposite him, with a complimentary laptop still open on an online manga site.

Through the air of sleep that passed over them all, Tessa's mind was still at work however. From the girls' room, across the hall, Tessa's mind crept from her sleeping head, over Nadia, around Anita, out the door, across the hall and into the nearest mind she found.

"Helloooo?" Her mind called out sweetly, "Pierce?"

"Nope, just Fitz." The Irishman's voice called out just behind Thought-Tessa, giving her a start.

"Oh, Fitz, ha, you scared me."

"Lookin' fer Pierce's mind fer some late-night mental...uh, fun-time?"

"What?!" Tessa mind-blushed upon being discovered, "Pfft...of course not. I'm just, ya know...bein my nosy self. I gotta go, bye!"

Her mind left Fitz and crept over Ivan, and around Mark until she hit the next mind.

"Pierce?"

No verbal answer came. Instead she saw around her a new mindscape illuminating. It was unlike any Pierce had ever dreamed up in the past. The sky was an unnaturally clear blue. The water was pristine, and she could smell the salt that sloshed about in the current. She sat a half-mile from the foot of a mountain on one side, yards away from endless ocean on another, and the moon was replaced by giant ringed planet too close to be scientifically possible. The blue of the sky fades darker and darker until it unveiled the dark of space, illuminated by diamond-like stars in the sky and the occasional comet whirring past.

"Pierce...?" Tessa could find no other word.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and it was clearly not Pierce.

"You like it?" Adam looked out into the vast expanse he had created in mere moments.

Tessa nodded, awestruck at the sheer artistic perfection. Its symmetry, it's geometry, its layout all seemed to be marked imperceptibly by Adam's masterful hand.

"Wha--how did you make all of this?"

"How else? My mind works that way. Did you know that colors go beyond the spectrum of what human eyes can see? Well I saw those colors once, in a dream, and haven't been able to get them out of my head since. I paint flowers in infrared and ultraviolet, and colored the sky with burnt turquoise; that planet, I call it Minerva, is a color my dad called aurora bright. And the water, at the very deepest depths? Clear. Not black. Not white. Clear. It reflects whatever color light comes into contact with it. Pretty cool, huh?"

Tessa looked around, and touched a flower, hoping it was as tangible as it was tantalizing. A smile crept across her face slowly, and she decided to stay there for a while, testing the depth of the world Adam had forged. Never before had she encountered a mind so literally brilliant; she had to have that reality as long as she could.

But it would not be so. She reached for the strange alien fruit that Adam had designed, and they vanished. In a puff of aurora-colored smoke, the illusion was illusory again, and Tessa had been ejected from the dream, yanked back across the all into her own subconscious. Snapping back to the waking world, the blond telepath looked around to see that the electricity was fluctuating. Was it Pierce, she wondered, maybe sleep-electrokinesing, or even angry that she had visited Adam instead of him? No, she realized, for never before had his sleep-electrokinesing brought about a disruption in her telepathy.

And yet here she was, thinking hard as she could, with not so much as a peep from another mind to be heard. She put her ear up to the wall to listen to what was going on in the hallway. High heels passed down until finally they got to the point where she could see the wearer walk past the peephole. A tall, slender, light-skinned black woman, with long, straight hair. Her manner was prim and proper, even perhaps a bit stuck-up. And next to her, a black woman of similar description, with the exception of not being prim and proper; in fact, the first girl's rosy-lipped counterpart looked downright slutty.

Yet here the two were, clad in all black, and making their way down the hall, much to Tessa's dismay. And they seemed to be talking about something. What, Tessa couldn't tell. And so she resolved to open the door, but by the time she had, the girls had gotten to the stairwell, and were headed downstairs. To follow them would be too obvious. And so, for a short time, Tessa put aside her impulse to snoop; she would visit Adam again a short while, the visit Pierce, and then be visited herself by the overpowering need to stop all this visiting and get some sleep.