-------------------------------------------- Generation X #15: Freedom Part 3: Hunter/Prey Written by Andy & Lee, May 19 1996 Editor: Marysia -------------------------------------------- =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= DISCLAIMER: This is a project of the X-Writers. We have neither asked nor been given permission by Marvel Comics to do this. They get to get all their rights and we get to keep ours, but they have the copyright, now, don't they? Don't bother sueing us. We can barely afford college, like we'd have something extra? Ha. X-Writers is a non-profit organisation. WARNING: This is a story. This is only a story. Had it been a recounting of issues from real life, spandex would be in style, and we be living at the Xavier School for Gifted Students and working as janitors by night. NOTE: This story may contain cuss words, questionable morals, killing, death, blatant acts of kindness, brief scenes of nudity, kissing, friendship, angst, original ideas, risky business, and all sorts of thought provoking questions regarding the cosmic powers and our unique advantages in becoming higher than our base animalistic selves. You may be inspired to write your own works of art and break the Oppressive Chains of Society so that your mind can run free. This story may even win a Noble Peace Prize, bringing together warring factions of estranged brothers and sisters and leading them to a long needed era of peace. SPEECH: " ... " words. << ... >> telepathic speech. '' ... '' thoughts. 0.o o Lee at the computer one too many hours. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Prologue << Wake up. >> The call comes too insistently for her to ignore, and she wakes, however reluctantly. "What do you want?" she says, tiredly. This game was growing old. << Have you made up your mind yet? >> "You know my answer," she replies. << I thought you'd see it that way ... >> Sitting up, she brings a hand to the back of her neck, feeling the stiff muscles beneath her fingers. She bites back a harsh comment and instead concentrates on loosening and relaxing her muscles. << What? No witty repartee? >> Scathing amusement liberally laced the mental voice, but she didn't respond to the bait. << Very well. I will return anon. >> The voice disappears again, but the damage has already been done. She is up, now, and can't go back to sleep if she tried. Confinement chaffed her, though as far as such things went it was a gilded cage. Standing up from her old bed, she moves from one end of the cell to the other, physically and psionically testing the barriers of her prison. Very little can keep Emma Frost confined, so this cell was much better designed than those she'd visited in the past. Physically, the door is locked and barred from the other side, and there are no windows or ventilation ducts. Psionically, it resembles a perfect mirror. Vaguely spherical and extending slightly behind the physical walls, all psionic energy directed against it would be flung back at the wielder. However, this only applies to those inside. Those on the outside are not limited by the psionic wall. In a sense, it is much like the one way mirrors in interrogation rooms. There is almost something very familiar with the layout, though, and this gives her a clue into its deconstruction. She carefully examines the integrety of the mirror. Like spider webs, when you find the origin of the thread, one hard yank will bring the whole thing down. --------------- Act 2, Scene 1 "Wooo-hah! ( Woo-hah! ) I got you all in check." - Busta Rhymes Later that day, specifically, forty-three minutes. The small town outside of the Frost Academy is only known by the students as a place to get away, to escape from the tedious school work and angst and become normal kids for a day. Nice and homey in that way that small towns in New England are, it boasts a surprisingly high amount of culture. Most of this is probably due to the fact that while it is small, many of its neighbors are the rich, reclusive types; people who don't want to live in the big city or who are on vacation in their 'summer' or 'winter' homes but who still enjoy a good movie, play, or day in the park. So while there isn't a lot of area to look over, it still had plenty of nooks and crannies, places where a resourceful villian could stash a White Queen. << Take a left 'ere. >> Jono busily scans the surroundings both mentally and physically. While his powers are still very untrained, he can sense the presence of another mutant mind, especially one like Emma's. He's familiar with her, and she's so powerful that he would recognize her almost immediately. "C'mon, chico, you think she's gonna be on Bourbon Street? Drunk?" Angelo looks out the driver's side window and frowns slightly. "I wouldn't say it's impossible, but it ain't likely." << No, but yeh saw what happened in her roo -- >> Jono's voice trails off at the end as the jeep they're riding in takes a sharp right as Angelo turns a corner. << ... in her room. >> "Yeah, like, looked like a total _twister_ hit it!" This is Jubilee. Jubilee is thirteen. Don't mind her, it's a phase. We hope. If not, hide your children and run for cover. The ultra-sly, cherry red Jeep Cherokee tears around the corner, and as the boys and girl slam into the side of the car like a sack of potatoes flung against a wall (*tunk*), we are all treated to a neat-like flashback scene, complete with wavy dream-like effects and cheesy violin music. ---------- Her room is pure virgin white, pure virgin white like white silk, as white as Nelson. The singers. Remember them? 'After the Rain'? Remember? Maybe not. Anyway, they were _white_ boys! They were honkies! Much like the room. This room was the same tint as Titanium white. Like snow. You get the picture. The walls, the bed, the furniture, the paintings ( 'White on White' ) ... right, white, tight! Okay. Now, being that the room was whiter than Michael Jackson (think about it), the kids what walked into it looking for Emma were certainly in for a shock. It was still white, sure. But it was white like crack rock, tumbled and twisted and bent out of shape. Her dresser was overturned, the clothing blending together and on top of each other, each one not having a point where it began or ended, just *white*. Apparently, some-one had been in here looking for something. And, apparently, they had *not* just casually looked for it. What was so important there, in the room, that they had to find? The kids weren't sure, but they were going to find out just where these obviously violent for the fun of it guys had taken Emma. ----------- So now the flashback ends with the same wavy transition effect, and once again, they're sitting in the front seat of this same jeep listening to the beat of the music and, yes, yes! Yes, and they're pulling to the side of the road, drawn like a magnet to the curb. << Ange - why're we stopping. >> Jono glances around curiously. "Cause, we need to - " Angelo replies. "Are we gunna be here for, like, _ever_??" Jubilee taps her fingers on the arm rest, chaffing at being regulated to the back seat while the two guys -- what a sexist world! -- sat up front and got to make all the big decisions. It's not as if she couldn't kick their collective asses in the 'find a clue' department, anyways. But, well, the price of youth is to be unheard. Angelo pauses as Jubilee interrupts him. After a moment, he continues, "We need to get out and -- " ** ******** ***** ***BANG*** *** ********** **** But, as it turned out, they didn't hit a clue -- a clue hit them. Hard. And caused a clue-shaped dent in the jeep. --------------- Act 2, Scene 2 "There's no 'i' in team." "No, but there _is_ an 'i' in 'semi-automatic weapon'." "Tell me one more time what I'm supposed to do," Cordelia whispers, hunched over in a small alcove off the subterranean tunnels. "Easy," Mallory replies. "Just make like you're trying to be very quiet, sneak over to the tower, and try to get to the top. That's all you do." Cordelia's eyes narrow as she tries to spot the flaws in this deceptively simple task. "It doesn't sound that easy," she says. Nodding reluctantly, Mallory readjusts the sniper rifle on her back so that it doesn't stick into her side. "Well, you're right. Nothing's ever *that* easy. You have to try not to get caught, but look convincing enough to make them try. You have to dodge the bullets once the firefight starts, but make sure that it does start. You have to keep safe, but make sure you're a convincing bait." She pauses and smiles over at the younger girl. "But, hey, for a girl like you, it won't be that hard at all." She smiles shakily. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she says in a less than thrilled voice. Glancing down the corridor as far as she cans, she strains her ears. Two groups had left earlier, one going north and the other heading around to the southwest. Cordelia and Mallory are to wait for them to be in position, during which time Mallory is to make sure nothing happened to their bait. Then, when they're ready, Cordelia has been instructed to head along the tunnel, up the access hatch, and over towards the tower. A perfect ambush site, Sean said. Nothing could go wrong, Sean said. They won't suspect a thing, and even if they do, the rest of the group would be around to make sure she was safe, Sean said. Cordelia begins to think that maybe there's a better way to get in good with the teacher. A way that involves slightly less exposure to possible bodily injuries and death. --------------- Act 2, Scene 3 "Tag! Tag you're it. Gal's panic." - Gal's Panic The clue is shaped like a lightbulb, probably because it _is_ a lightbulb. The kind that falls from street-lights for no apparent reason, probably because it _had_ just fallen from a street-light for no apparent reason. Well, for now, at least, the reason seemed hidden. The lightbulb had shattered on the hood, scattering into a good few dozen pieces. It does little other than to startle and quiet the occupants of the vehicle. However, Jono, being the tall, dark and handsome one, goes to investigate the cause of this particular occurrence. Why the tall, dark and handsome ( well, okay, sort of handsome. He's missing his face, but no-one really cares about that bit) gets out to investigate was simple -- the meek shall one day inherit the earth, and, well, that gives Angelo a four to one chance of surviving to one day Rule The World. Placing his boots firmly against the dark ground, Jonothon stares up into milky blackness. Stepping onto the top of the Jeep, he pushes high on the balls of his feet and reaches up to touch the shattered edge of the broken streetlight. Apparently -- his fingers sought out a small hole and a piece of fabric which, upon retrieval, turned out to be white silk. Actually, the silk had been there since a week prior, when three birds began building their nest atop the large metal light. However, Jono is outrageously ecstatic. Which is quite a sight -- imagine a lad without a face, who is grinning. Right, exactly. << A CLUE! >> he shouts mentally, which isn't true, but who's gonna tell him? "FAT CHANCE, DUDE!" Okay. Maybe Jubilee will. --------------- Act 2, Scene 4 "Can't catch me, not where I'm gonna run, you can't find me where I hide ..." - They Might Be Giants Monet rounds the corner quickly, arms stretched ahead, her body hanging in mid-air. Behind her, the rest of the team try and keep up as best they can. "Whoa, girl, slow down!" Paige puts on an extra burst of speed, breaking to the front of the two person pack. Just a few minutes ago, Monet was spaced out and unmovable, surrounded by her team mates, at approximately the same time that the older members of their group were moving to surround the tower in an attempt to flush the intruders out. Whether it works or not, these four -- Monet, Everett, Paige, and Penance -- will never know. Monet took off back down the corridor of the underground tunnels, and Everett and Paige started running after her as fast as their little feet would take them. Everett tries to reach out with his powers and synch into Monet's flying abilities. Either they are too far out of reach or he needs more concentration, though, because he can't seem to get a fix on her. So, deciding to do things the old fashioned way, he just keeps up with Paige. Trailing behind them, almost as if she isn't a part of the group at all, Penance follows. Monet lands at the entrance to the service tunnel, a tunnel system under the mixed dormitory. Motioning for Paige and Everett to join her and be quiet, she reaches out for the latch and turns it. "This way," she whispers cryptically. Glancing at Everett, Paige gives him a 'I don't know about this' look. He shrugs, though, willing to trust Monet. Ever since the events at the island, he trusts her wholeheartedly. Funny, considering he knows next to nothing about her. Sometimes, though, it's simply enough to trust your team mates without wondering why. So, when Monet rushes through the portal, Everett follows without hesitation. The service tunnel was older than the tunnels below it. Back when there were far more students at this private academy, maids and other people who ran the day to day affairs of the dormitory would use these tunnels to move without being seen from one end of the dorm to another or to get to the underground service departments such as the laundry room. True, the kids were far more spoiled than their counterparts at public academies, but considering the amount they paid to attend, and therefore the amount the service personnel were paid, little things became inconsequential. Back to the present. Monet, who, if Jubilee were here, would suddenly have the new nickname of 'Dirty Monet Harry', kicks in the door that leads to a lesser used area. Dutifully following, the three would be heroes slip into the room. --------------- Act 2, Scene 5 Cordelia steps through the access hatch and pulls the large, unwieldy equipment after her. In an attempt to look credible, she'd been made to carry a communication pack. No obvious weapon can be seen on her body, but the general consensus had been that the intruders would assume she had some sort of mutant powers, so weapons would only have drawn unnecessary suspicion. Truding through the well manicured undergrowth, she distastefully pushes aside brances and shrubs. A single thread continually ran through her mind, telling her she shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be here. There. Up ahead lies the tower; only a few dozen more yards. There are no unusual sounds, so she hopes that maybe this bait was for nothing after all ... Putting her left foot on the first rung, she swings herself up the ladder. As she rose higher, she looked out over the school grounds, pausing for a moment to check the surroundings. Still nothing. Hmm ... maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Trying to make herself a small target while simultaneously scurrying up the ladder as fast as possible, Cordelia concentrates on her hand and foot holds. She almost reaches the top when a shot rings in her ears, the sound a sharp slap against the quiet. Hesitating, indecisive, she pauses, her mind overloaded with such a variety of conflicting signals that she isn't sure which way to turn. In the brush below her, a man takes careful aim, the butt of his tranquilizer gun snug against his right shoulder. The first shot had been to make the young mutant to freeze, and it appears to be working. The next shot will take her between the shoulder blades. Sure, the distance she'll fall will be quite a ways, but they can always patch her up later. His index finger carefully pulls against the trigger, and he takes a deep breath, then holds it. Steady now, he completes the motion. The shot flies forth from the underbrush and, to the soldier's chargin, slaps into the side of a solid sheet of ... ice? His eyes widen. Scrambling for his radio, he says, "Abort, repeat, abort. This is a -- " Whatever his next words would have been, no one will ever know. A single shot through his throat effectively cuts off his words. It tears through the delicate flesh, rending cartilage and skin, but doesn't damage the spine. A clean, careful shot. He passes out immediately. Loading another cartridge into the chamber, Mallory allows herself a grim smile before turning to her next victim. The smile isn't one of over confidence, or even pleasure, for that matter. It's a smile of someone who knows that this will end with a minimum of bloodshed and killing, especially on her side. A pragmatic smile. --------------- Act 2, Scene 6 "Oh the wolf's in the woods, and the children and heading for harm But sometimes the wolf is just a false alarm, sometimes the world just opens up its arms... " - Oysterband "Told you." << Shut up. >> Jonothon mentally projects, leaning against the glass pane of the window. Jubilee turns 180 degrees in her seat, a task that she, and only she, is capable of doing. Her upper body is pressed completely against the back of the seat, her lower body strapped in and facing forward. Now that she's finally got the front seat, she's not giving it up. "I told him," she announces, smugly, to all who'll listen. Of course, this won't help her get heard any more, but since she wasn't being listened to in the first place, what'll it hurt to gloat a little? "We know you did, chica." "No," she says, facing forward again. "I _told_ him it wasn't a clue. I told him fat chanced." << Will you shut _up_? >> "Nope!" she shouts cheerfully. "And you can't make me!" Finally, she thinks, a crack in the nihilistic, stoic, nothing-ever-bothers-*me* armor. This is an opportunity that shouldn't be passed up. "Hey, look, chico," says the grey-skinned boy at the wheel, the one who looks like he hasn't shaved in a month or so. "It was a mistake! Could'f happened to any of us!" "Yeah, like, right, we _all_ could have mistaken a _bird's_nest_ for Emma! Like, *sure*!" << Could'f happened to any of you, >> Jonothon intercedes, << but it happened to me. >> There is a pause. Angelo, for all his good intentions, can't fight that one. "True," he says after a moment, his voice soft. Jubilee turns forward in her seat again. She thinks, perhaps, that he's had enough, and, maybe, realized the folly of his ways. He's wrong, of course. It couldn't have just happened to anyone. Only someone who was so completely arrogant and sure of himself could do it, could ignore what everyone else has to contribute and simply go forth with the strength of his own convictions. An admirable trait, as she very well knows, but one that is meaningless without common sense and experience to go with it. Not that she has it. She's not completely unrealistic. But, maybe, she knows enough to recognize who does or doesn't have it. There is more silence. The jeep slides home slowly across the rain-slicked roads of Massachussetes, the vehicle gliding over the streets like a marble on a sheet of ice. --------------- Act 2, Scene 7 "It's not that we didn't get along, it's that you were always wrong." - Dance Hall Crashers Imagine their surprise when they spot two guys around the corner, hunched up and trying to make themselves invisible, obviously camped here for the night. Monet reacts first, as always, and while Everett is synching to Monet and Paige is husking to a more combat-friendly form, she's already joined the fight. Fists leading the way, she rears back and punches the first across the jaw. There's a sickening crack. Not one for subtlty is our Monet St. Croix. The other man has, by this time, raised his weapon. His young, wide eyes and inexpert handling of the high powered rifle shows, to Paige at least, that he probably hasn't been at this for a long time. She feels a twinge of sympathy, but then remembers why they're here. They started it. Taking aim at the dark skinned girl before them, the man-child attempts to take down the flying girl with a few dozen rounds of armour piercing bullets. There's something almost sickeningly pathetic by the way he cringes. Monet dodges to one side, and most of the bullets fly past her. They make a sharp metallic sound as they connect with Paige's new body. The sound disturbs her, but she'll think about that later. She glances behind her for a moment, looking for Everett, but can't see him. Well, no time to think of that just yet. Scrambling to stand, the soldier faces Monet across a pitifully small area. His eyes are clouded, as if he's sure he doesn't want to do this, but sure, also, that he has no choice. Time freezes as he pulls the trigger at point blank range. From her vantage point, caught, too, in the time slip, Paige can only hope that Monet is, somehow, bullet proof. An idle thought -- 'why can't I just worry about something normal?' -- intrudes. A door slides out from behind the soldier. He turns, wildly, bringing his rifle around and firing at the same tmie. Monet takes instant advantage of this and carreens into the young man, knocking him down. The form of a young, spikey haired girl slips out from behind the door, fingers curled. With both soldiers down and apparently out cold, the four students gather. "Well, now, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Monet says with a small, amused smile gracing her cold features. "I don't know," Everett says. "I'm just glad Penance found that side tunnel and thought enough to go through it and come around the back. I don't want to think what would've happened if he'd been able to fire at you." Paige nods her agreement, but Monet gives Everett a less than flattering look. "He would've have been able to do it," she says, cryptically, and offers nothing more. "Let's not worry about that right now," Paige says. "I'd like to just get these guys back to the base and lock them up so we can find out what happened to Miss Frost." Her voice is light and quick, as if she's hyperventalating. She's not, but her tone makes Everett look closerly at her anyways. He's curious, but she doesn't have an answer just yet, so she just smiles and shrugs the discomfort off. "That is a remarkable idea, Miss Guthrie," Monet responds with no little sarcasm. "Think you two can handle that one on your own?" She takes ahold of the man with the broken jaw and slings him over her shoulder, making sure he's out by applying a precise amount of force to his skull. She's nothing if not precise. "We'll do just fine," Everett says, sparing Paige the trouble of responding to Monet how she really wants to. "Grab that end, will you?" He speaks in an undertone to Paige, not particularly caring for Monet at this point. He remembers how she was during the trip and can't seem to reconcile that person with the one here, now. Working in concert, the two students manage to hold the boy soldier between them and head off towards the rendezvous point. Penance ranges ahead, leading the way back to camp. Up ahead walks Monet, alone but for the limp package she carries. --------------- Act 2, Scene 8 Sean surveys the field before him, his hands resting against his hips. One hand creeps up to his neck, and he gently messages his throat. His voice is killing him, a fact that nags against the back of his mind. All things considered, though, they've come through this very well. Only two were unaccounted for, now. He walks down the small hillock, between the trees and to the clearing on the other side. Stopping beside Bobby, he looks down at the enemy soldiers. A few of them are in bad shape, and the white gauze around a soldier's throat catches his eye. Jack glances over at him and nods, a signal not to worry about these poor fools. 'Belle, the girl he brought with him, handles herself confidently, patching them up as best she can given the conditions. "What did ye learn?" he asks Jack as he moves next to him. Glancing around, he wonders where Cordelia has run off to, but with the immediate threat neutralized, he can't worry about her just yet. "Not much," Jack admits. "There are seven of them here, but there are two others hiding somewhere. From what I gather, those other two aren't as bad as these folks, so we're okay." He pauses. "And they don't know where your headmistress is hiding. Supposedly another man was here, before. A telepath. He left with her and a few other soldiers back when she was captured." Sean nods, his mind blankly buzzing around thoughts too vague to read. "Alright, well, let's clean up here and then examine our options," he says, turning on his heel and walking back towards the Infirmary. --------------- Act 3, Scene 1 "if man is 5 if man is 5 if man is 5 then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6 then the devil is 6 and if the devil is 6 then god is 7 then god is 7 then god is 7 this monkey's gone to heaven" - Pixies Mondo relaxes against the couch and hits another button on the remote control. The television channels flip and on the screen appears four men dressed in baggy grey outfits with large flame-thrower type devices strapped onto their backs. In the distance, a rather large marshmallow man is walking down the New York City streets, destroying all in its way. Mondo is intrigued -- not because he's never seen this show before (c'mon, who hasn't?), but because he realizes that marshmallows (and maybe a full meal to go along with it) would be really good right now. Hours have gone by, and the members of each individual team have checked in according to schedule, but no one has been able to find anything of interest. Now, Leech, who is manning the communications counsel, is beginning to get worried, wanting to do *something* other than just sit here. Sean and the others left them here and told them that under no circumstances were they to leave here for any reason whatsoever, so of course he has to stay put, but he worries anyways. A buzzer sounds and, with it, a face appears on the counsel video screen. It is Monet. "This is Monet. Two intruders have been detained. However, Miss Frost is not among them. We will be returning shortly." Before Leech can get a word in edgewise, the screen goes blank. Looking over his shoulder, he smiles at his best friend, Artie. A flashed picture hangs in the air, a thumb's up sign, and Leech nods happily. Another sign flashes, one of a worried looking Artie and Leech, and to that Leech just nods, not willing to share his worry at this point. --------------- Act 3, Scene 2 "A bath," she says. "I'm going to go back, get a bath, and just hide in my room for a few days." Bobby and Mallory share an amused look from either side of Cordelia. They understand the other girl's outlook, but it still strikes them as funny. Unfortunatly, she notices. Hands on hips, she stops and glances to either side of her. "What? Did I just say something really funny or something?" Laughing under his breath, Bobby holds up a placating hand. "No, no, we were ... uh ... " "Don't even try to lie. You're horrible at it," Cordelia says with a tone of righteous indignation. She strides off, leaving the other two behind her as she makes her way back to the main dormitory. "And you should just be glad that I'm too tired to deal with this right now, otherwise I'd really give you a piece of my mind." She sniffs delicately, showing her disdain. "Oh, c'mon, Cor. We weren't laughing *at* you. We're just laughing because ... well, of all of us, I guess you've got your priorities straight." Mallory hurries forward until she reaches the younger girl. "And, 'sides, we're really thankful for what you did today. It all worked perfectly, thanks to you." Cordelia nods her wholehearted agreement. "And I'll thank you to remember that," she says, holding up an admonishing finger. Following along at a healthy distance, Bobby walks with his hands in his pockets. He wonders if Cordelia thinks it's over. They still haven't found Emma, but the younger girl seems to think that now that they've cleared the School, everything should be fine. Well, he'll let her think that. Why not? She deserves a little peace. Glancing back over her shoulder, Cordelia calls, "C'mon, stop walking so slow. You think I won't leave you behind? Ha, you've got another thing coming." Her tone has shifted, the indignation softening into teasing. It really wasn't so bad after all, she thinks to herself. She'd never admit it to anyone, but she may have -- maybe -- enjoyed herself today. Not the danger. Not the threat. But the teamwork and the adventure and the thrill ... well, maybe she doesn't mind it so much. Hopping up the front steps, Mallory swings open the door and bows from the waist. "After you," she says, gallantly. Cordelia lifts her chin and glides through, grinning as she gives the other girl a dismissive wave of the hand. Bobby follows and slips through the door as well, and Mallory lets it fall shut behind her. --------------- Act 3, Scene 3 "1, 2, 3, 4, I'm no Mister Super Hardcore There's an anger inside'f me it's ready to explode... Anxiety Attack, aha haha!" - Skankin' Pickle He spoons the Cheerios up into his mouth, his tongue falling heavily onto them like a beached whale. It's far too early in the morning for him to be up. << It's far too early in the morning for you to be up. >> Jonothon's mental voice says as he walks into the room. His boots leave scorations on the tiled floor, but he doesn't look down to mind. "'m hungry, and couldn't sleep," Angelo states, simply, a slight, slim line of milk slipping from between his lips. Jonothon nods, and leans against the wall. This is an action he often takes in the kitchen, as he's unable to eat, or really to talk, or drink, or any of a number of operations. So, instead, there is silence. There is monotonous silence broken by the occasional bit of silence. Well, alright, there's also the sound of Angelo inhaling his cereal, but that's not necessary to be presented. << I'm worried, man. >> Angelo glances up, wiping a bit of milk from his cold grey lips. "S'why's'at?" << Emma. >> A pause again, the familiar monotonous hum. Ever see Blade Runner? Okay, there's not really any point in the movie that's quite like this, but it's really quite a good one, and if you get the chance to get the director's flick, do so. Anyway. "Well, yeah," says Angelo. "So's everyone." << No one could find her. >> "Si. The soldiers were muy estupido. I can't believe they knew nothing. And without our fancy telepath here, we can't find out where our fancy telepath is. Catch 22." << Right, well. >> Jonothon remains against the wall as the sunlight that suddenly breaks through the window highlights the outline of his body. The moon's light barely peeks through a window, and all's not well. --------------- Act 3, Scene 4 Sean looks out of the windows of his study, one hand lying against the frame. It's still dark outside, and he's spend the entire evening holed up in his study. Bobby had come, occasionally, throughout the night, but he was no help. Shaking his head, Sean ammends that unkind statement. Rather, he's no help to this current dilemma the older man's facing, but he's a lot of help with the children. Exactly as Emma and he had planned, Bobby's own youth is serving to provide a connection between the children and the adults who supervise them. Even now, he was making the rounds in the dormitory, checking up on them, making sure everything's alright. Sean feels a slight hint of guilt on his conscience. He should be the one out there doing that. In fact, he should be doing something other than just sitting here, watching the world outside the window. Pushing off from the wall, he pulls the shades and turns off the light. Closing the door behind him, he leaves his study and walks through the deserted corridors. Making his way to his suite, he tries to think of some grand plan to get them all out of the mess they were in. But try as he might, the only thing that he can think about is sleep. Maybe after a few hour's rest, he can function again. Then he'll do something to get Emma back. Even if it kills him in the process. --------- Epilogue "When they knock down your front door, How you gonna come? With your hands upon your head, Or on the trigger of your gun?" - The Clash 'Oh, good. I didn't break a nail,' she thinks dryly and with a great deal of amusement. Emma examines her nails critically, noticing the smooth silvery white coating, the curves, the strength, and then smiles when she notices there isn't even a chip or scratch anywhere. On the second floor landing, she pauses and glances out of the floor to ceiling window. The building is far closer to the school than she thought. The road that passes in front is the same one that leads through the small town a few miles from the school. While it's good to that she knows where she is, she wishes they weren't quite so close. With a bit of hard looking, someone might find her, and at this point, that wouldn't be a good thing at all. Down the stairs she walks, and when she reaches the first floor, she opens the emergency exit and walks to the construction area behind the abandoned warehouse. Except, she thinks, it isn't as abandoned as everyone believed it to be. The infiltrators and their leader, the ineffectual madman, had been holed up here for the last two weeks, and she had been none the wiser. That is what makes her the most angry. She should have caught them. Maybe she was slipping in her old age. Not that she was that old. Still, it shouldn't have happened, but it did. No use crying over spilled milk. A mind nears. She fries it. There, that's the last one. She still can't believe how easy it was. << Minor telepaths. >> she thinks to herself. << What is it about them that makes them think they have more power than they do. They should learn their place and stick with it. >> Pausing, she smiles grimly. << Not that the dear professor will have to worry about trying to get ahead in this world anymore. >> Grisly scenes pass through her mind as she remembers, in exquisite detail, every moment of the psychic battle. No, battle isn't the word -- it implies the sides are even and that it could have gone either way. This was a slaughter. Brushing her nails against her ripped jacket, she heads towards the garage, where she confiscates a vehicle. Deliberately taking the time to make sure everything was in place, she locks herself in and picks up the keys under the mat. Tonight, she will call Sean and tell him that she was safe and sound and not to worry. She will make sure that he understands she has to be off for awhile ... to take care of things. Throwing the truck into reverse, she backs out of the parking space and drives out of the lot, heading down the road that would, eventually, lead her to New York City. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=