The Platform of Surrender [SHOWDOWN]

[Lala & Reese Degreas]

Waiting was hard to do. It was all Reese could do not to just storm the school and exact Gabriel’s revenge then and there. But that wasn’t in the plan. Not yet. Instead she’d been standing at the window, long since blown out by Kilbourne’s flying body. They hadn’t bothered to even have it boarded. It would come in handy later. Like now, where Lala was posted with a sniper rifle to pick off any one she could.

Reese turned heel and exited without a word, her heart racing in her sister’s ears as a warm wind blew in through the long-gone window, peeking in on the room next door, where an obviously distressed Niko and a passed-out James Campbell where under the watchful eye of Padmaja Shamir. She wasn’t much use in combat. Padmaja simply gave Reese a nod, and the dominant half of the gestalt pair was gone again, more of a ghost than a woman.

Once she had located Mordechai and Oliver, the former poised with his violin, the latter hovering in the corner, she finally reached the foyer to address her front lines. Reese looked to Paulo. “Where is he?” she said quietly, relying on Paulo’s talents to alert them when Kilbourne was near. She didn’t stay near the other operatives for long, instead pressing her forehead to the glass on the main door.

It was warmed by the sun, and even through its frosted service she could see the clean blue sky stretching out over their lawn. She pictured it bathed in war. She could hear the shots, the electric crackling of Oliver’s attack…the insane shrill of Mordechai’s violin. Reese dragged her hand over the polished wood of the door, seeing Lala’s gaze stretch over the yard to rest on the still-turned earth over Gabe’s grave. Struggling grass had begun to sprout in the earth. Reese closed her eyes, simply to ignore the sight.

The day was beautiful.

It would soon turn ugly.

[Paulo Ortiz]

"He's still there." Paulo looked at Reese, wondering if her wandering was nervous energy, of the woman could possibly be nervous for this. They had the advantage of being on their own turf, Kilbourne was coming to his death.

That is, if he was coming at all.

"Are you sure he'll come? If he knows you took them--" No, not "we" took them. This was Reese's plan, and if anything went wrong, it was her fault. "--he would run if he was smart."

The operative had gone up to the room where they were holding the hostages earlier. They were just a little boy and a man who, while unconscious, didn't look like he was much. Gabriel had commented on how easy it had been to get into his mind.

If Gabe was still alive now, they'd be using him, instead of knocking him out. All this was going to do was distress the kid more, even if it did keep them both subdued for now. But even if he was awake and useful to them, he wasn't worth someone dying.

Paulo laid back on the couch, tracking the principal players at Hammel, seeing of anyone's location had changed. Nothing new. Between his traces, he did scans for number of metas in the immediate area. Just them, and the hostages. His participation in the fight could only be minimal; he was needed for his ability, and it wasn't offensive. This was when it was impor....."He's moving. Sean Neville is moving."

[Delilah Pryce]

Just what Delilah Pryce had to gain by this insane war between the MSAD and Hammel was minimal at best. She cared little for either side of the coin and had sided with the MSAD because she had a partial contract with them when Gabriel Underwood had been alive. The new default leaders of this wayward group had picked up Delilah's contract where Gabe had left off and deposited quite a hefty sum into her offshore account in the Cayman Islands. This sort of job wasn't new for Delilah but she still had a long way to go before she could be called a true professional. This fight wouldn't be easy, it never was when other meta-humans were involved. Truth be known, the MSAD would probably fall today in this battle and judging by the looks of the twins, it was a small fact. The twins were driven by rage, something Delilah herself knew all too well. This sort of rage only led to a lot of pain and death and while Delilah was paid to do her part, she wouldn't lay her life down for anyone in this place. The terms of her contract were precise and clear, kill all and any that she was able.

Dressed in black combat boots, cargo pants and a tight long sleeve shirt, she looked like something out of a bad action movie. She even went as far as to put on a pair of black fingerless leather gloves to give her better grip with her pistols and other offensive weaponry. Delilah stood in the foyer, near the main door, pulling her long black hair back into a pony tail. When the main even finally did kick off, it would be fast and hard and full of blood. She wondered quietly if any of the members of MSAD had ever been in a true battle and not some poorly put together bar fight. Taking someone's life wasn't as easy as it was made out to be...unless your were naturally unhinged. Delilah found it rather easy, but her mind wasn't exactly typical. These other rag tag misfits were a mystery and just mind end up with more on their moral plate than they could eat.

The twins, gestalt and rather intriguing, seemed to be the more violent and composed of this group. Delilah figured they would be the primary destructive force in this fight, a thought which made her smile. The two woman were very attractive and had put more blushing thoughts into Delilah's mind than she had had in a while. Maybe if they all three survived this war, then pursuing some personal time together might be in order. However, thoughts such as those would have to wait and give way to organized and violent ones instead.

Dropping her hands to her side, Delilah let her fingers tap against the pistol she had holstered to her thigh. The man, Paulo spoke, his voice grating on Delilah's ears, but his message more unnerving than his presence. Sean Neville was moving and that wasn't what Delilah wanted to hear. She had hoped the aging man would have stayed behind, but apparently no such luck. She knew he would be poking about in all their minds during the battle, trying to sway them this way and that and Delilah really didn't like that feeling.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse slid his fingers over the glossy black surface of his Glock 17. A gift from Gabriel, given just days before his seventeenth birthday. He was purposely avoiding the study, even though he knew that was where Reese was camped out, waiting. But he couldn’t stay still, either. He was pacing the hallways, alternating between holstering his handgun, and taking it out again. He’d already been told that his pacing wasn’t helping the mood within the compound, but he couldn’t help it.

Early that morning, before the twins had slipped away, Jesse had snuck out into the grounds and had settled beside the grave of their leader. He hadn’t spoken, just curled up against himself as the sun rose. His silent vigilance had been broken only by Lala and Reese leaving the mansion.

At that point, he’d gotten up and headed back inside, retrieving his gun from the vault. It had been time to get ready.

The blond crossed the hallway again, skirting away from Paulo, lest he be told to sit down (again) by the Cuban man. Instead he moved to where the hostages were being held. He remembered the both of them all too well. Kilbourne’s sissy husband, and his kid. The little weather manipulator he’d roomed with. He smirked and crouched down, eye level with the little brat.

“Hey, Nikolai.” He did his best to keep his voice soft, like when he talked to his little sister. “Do you remember me?” He knew he looked a little older. Probably a little wilder. “I remember you.” His voice lowered slightly into a growl. “And I know what your dad did. He killed someone important to us.” He was getting better at this. He was able to keep the hitch out of his voice. “And if he’s lucky, we won’t kill you.” His gaze flicked back to the unconscious man. James Campbell. His only use would be to drive Kilbourne to them. Jesse badly wanted to be the one to put a bullet to the trainer’s skull. But that involved patience. He just smiled sweetly at the little boy and patted his hair before rising and heading to the door.

He was going to find Reese, but then the phone rang again. He'd heard it one too many times, and he was getting sick of it. Searching James' pockets, he finally found the device. He wanted to take it and pitch it out the window, but something caught his attention. The name on the screen. He paused, and then he smirked and thrust the device at Niko.

"Answer it," he hissed. "And tell your Daddy where you are." Just for good measure, he cracked his gun back. "Or else."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

As fortune would have it, Sean had been home when all of this happened, tending to his chores. When he’d woken that morning, he’d expected it to be a lazy day, although that sense of dread he carried remained in wait.

When his phone rang, and he heard those nine words, the sense of dread reached the front of his mind, to be pushed away by preparation and a sense of urgency. M.S.A.D. had kidnapped James and Niko. They had kidnapped a ten-year-old boy, those amoral, unprincipled, miserable...

Already, he was moving through the house, grabbing the bag of supplies he’d set aside for now. He left a note for L.C. telling her not to worry, and then he was in his garage. “You’re staying where you are until I pick you up.” They needed to stick with the plan, and Chase couldn’t run off half-cocked this way.

Then he hung up and began calling the other drivers, telling them to pick up their charges. One-by-one, he alerted all of the members of their watch group, warning them to be ready and to expect to get picked up by their car within a few minutes.

While driving, and ignoring the rule about using cell phones while driving because it was the least of his priorities, he tried to reach Josh. Unsurprisingly, he only reached his voice mail, and so he left a quick message. Thanks for everything, Slim. There were letters waiting for Josh if he didn’t make it, but he couldn’t focus on that possibility right now. They had to succeed because the children, a specific child right now, were in danger.

He swung by Chase’s first, out of obligation, and then picked up Anya and the rest of his group; the van was full. The only way the van could be more conspicuous would be for him to have painted the Hammel crest on the side, but they had to make do with limited supplies.

All of the vehicles arrived within a couple of minutes of each other at the end of the block, where they had agreed. The telepath was scanning for mental presences, while he reviewed their plan one more time and took inventory of who was armed. He wasn’t, because he couldn’t bring himself to be; while he was a pragmatist, he still abhorred weapons, and his powers would keep him relatively safe. He handed out energy bars to everyone, since he’d need the glucose and others might benefit as well.

“Remember the plan. Anya, try to block as many of their powers as possible. That won’t stop their guns, but it will disorient them, and will put them at a disadvantage. Remember, the twins are fully synchronized and bloodthirsty; they’ll offer no mercy. Everyone with offensive powers, a weapon, or any sort of military training pairs up with someone who doesn’t have the benefit and stay with them to the best of your ability. Getting Niko and James out of there safely is our highest priority.” He had stressed that in the brief calls he’d made to everyone, explaining the situation.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at their target, he formed the pictures of the interior in his memories and projected it onto the others, so they had a common frame of reference. “That’s as good a picture as I can give you of the interior.” They had discussed house plans to the best of their ability already, and they would have to go from there. “If anyone gets hurt, try to get back to the vehicles for safety. If you can’t on your own, one of us will get you there.” That was to minimize further injuries to their group. He had stressed the potential for injury through every discussion, every meeting; they were all adults and had to fully comprehend the risk. Particularly now, when there was no turning back.

“One last thing: nobody gets left behind.” They were friends, they were coworkers, and now they were a group. Come Hell or high water, they would all leave together. Even if they had to commandeer another car, they would leave all together.

From here on out, if you have questions, think them and I’ll find you. Worry if I go silent but only after you rescue James and Niko.

With that, he led the group of Hammelites down the street and onto the property where the M.S.A.D. compound was located. Once there, they broke into their smaller groups.

[Anya Vasiliev]

The whole ride over, Anya had wanted to be violently sick. The nerves of the past few weeks had doubled in strength and it was taking everything she had not to let everyone down. The children, especially Niko spurned her on with something similar to a Mother's fury. They couldn't kidnap someone so young, it was disgusting and inhuman. But then, they had already beaten Chase, injured James and emotionally battered Morgan. It was no surprise, really, that it had come to this.

The shotgun she'd bought was a simple one, similar enough to the one she used with her father in Russia for sport. She'd gone to practice her aim once or twice at the local shooting range, but she had no intentions to kill. Every bullet was to be used to minimize danger. Hands, feet, but never the chest area. Bullets rattled in the gun as the car leapt over a particularly sharp bump, and Anya felt her very small breakfast lurch in her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she found her strength and opened the door.

Sean's words calmed her ever so slightly, and she shouldered her gun, open to be teamed to anyone who would need her. "I'll try and block the twins first." She said simply, unable to eat much of the glucose bar with her stomach somewhere in her throat. She did her best, loaded the shotgun and stood, hands on her hips. As the other people milled around, she swallowed a large lump in her throat. "If anyone thinks there's a power endangering them, please let me know and I'll get there as soon as I can."

Dressed in her jeans and a tank top, she realised how odd this all was, and felt a nervous giggle tickle her. Covering her lips, she took the deepest breath of her life, then began to walk slowly towards the MSAD compound, pausing one moment to grab Morgan's arm.

"If ... the worst happens, I want you to look after Dashenka for me." She said softly, before letting go and disappearing into the small group.

[Morgan Tonaya]

The whole time, since the day Jake brought Levi to Hammel, Morgan felt like he was caught in a nightmare. Now he knew he was, but he’d suddenly stopped wishing he would wake up. He couldn’t close his eyes and turn on the nightlight like he’d used to. He had to step up. He had to keep his eyes open.

For as terrified as he was, Morgan was surprisingly lucid. In the car ride to the scene (a battleground, as it were), he fondly took a lingering look at the cell-phone picture Darryl had sent him of himself holding his newly born son. He hadn’t had a chance to meet the baby yet…but he would. He was determined that he would.

Tired of running, and being scared, Morgan’s heart beat at a rapid, but steady pace. He was ready to fight. Ready to protect who he loved and what he believed in. No one deserved what had happened to James and Niko, and MSAD got everything that was coming to them.

Even Jake.

He was, however, a little unnerved by Anya’s shotgun. It was a more powerful realization of what he already knew: there would be blood. He could only pray there wouldn’t be much of it.
Sean’s words calmed him and when he stepped onto the lawn, it felt solid. Real. So real. He jolted a bit when Anya touched his arm. He balked stupidly at her, then frowned as she began to leave. He managed to reach out and catch her hand.

“Nothing is going to happen, Anya. You’ll be around to feed Dashenka breakfast tomorrow.” A gentle light collected around Morgan as he focused his thoughts, his energies—everything—into his powers. Anya was the crux of their plan, and he was there to protect her. “I promise.” He murmured, letting go of her hand as he felt his skin warming as the light drew to him.

[Yulia Sokolov]

Yulia was calm sitting in the van, as she always was. She had her trick to staying that way, and did out of necessity. There was no reason for her to get worked up, as that you only hurt her before they even began. She needed calm and control, especially because she hadn’t done this in nearly a year, and that last mission had ended in unplanned disaster. Still her problems were minimal compared to those of the other people in the van.

To begin with she was not afraid to walk in there, she was not afraid to face this force. What was the worst that could happen? Death? She wasn’t worried about it. She knew how good her training was. Was she aware that she could be killed? Absolutely, and she had arranged things in case she did. She had left two letters for Ben, one explaining where she was and a second with instructions on what was to be done if worst came to worst.

They were both short letters, the first because Yulia generally was sparse with words and the second because she had little enough and few people to leave it all to. In fact it mostly went to Ben. The second moral concern that she was missing regarded killing if necessary. Her schooling and years in the military had ingrained into her the idea of succeeding at all costs during a mission. She had changed this in her own mind, to protect at all costs, to defend at all costs, to eliminate the threat to those she loved and cared about at all costs. She would not hesitate to shoot or use her ability, though she wouldn’t do so needlessly or recklessly.

Her had no hesitance when it came in whether to arm herself or not. She had chosen to, and arm herself well. She personally favored handguns. She kept them holstered at her hips, with full clips in them. That way they would he easy enough to draw and shoot with. She had always found pistols easier, despite the need to generally double tap.

Frankly she didn't know why they all weren't armed. What did they think this was? Did they understand that if they failed two innocent people would die and they would most likely be wiped out? That there was no second chance, no coming back from that. These weren't misguided souls, but cold blooded kidnappers who would have no problem becoming cold blooded killers from her knowledge.

Once they were there she climbed out with the rest of them, checking her clips one more time before she settled the guns in their holsters for the fight. What was said was what she generally expected, this was a rescue mission, and to get James and Niko out of there. She was silent, listening to Sean and attempting to assign herself to a group that needed her, given her military knowledge. She mumbled to the person next to her as she looked up at the compound. “I never thought I’d be back in this situation.”

[Chase Campbell]

Chase was not a patient man. Not when his husband and his son’s safety hung in the balance.

Sean had convinced him to stay put, but that didn’t mean he stayed still. He paced the driveway, pausing only when he thought he heard a vehicle winding up the quiet road. He knew stressing wasn’t helping, but it was the only way he was going to be able to keep himself somewhat sane. This was it. This was what they’d been preparing for. He’d agreed to stay out of the fight. For his family’s sake. But the rules had changed now.

He couldn’t just sit back when those criminals had his family.

It seemed to take forever, but when the van finally showed up he wasted no time in climbing in. “I called James, and Nikki answered the phone. I could hear someone egging him on in the background, and he told me they had him. They’re at the compound.” He shuddered, memories of that place coming back to haunt him. He hadn’t thought he’d ever go back there.

But when James and Niko were in danger, there was going to be no stopping him. He was going.

He wasn’t armed, and though he wasn’t keen on the idea, he knew he’d have to use his power to protect himself. Or at the very least, to protect his family. Though he was certain James would kill him if he managed to get himself killed, he knew what was most important here. Protect Nikki. Protect James. Get them out safely.

He hadn’t used his power since he’d killed Gabriel. He had no doubts that his control was still as good as it ever was, but he didn’t want to do that again.

Once everyone was together and debriefed, Chase followed the group down the street, breaking off with his smaller team. His grey eyes flicked over the compound. This was it.

Come what may, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

[Willow Kovacs]

The raven really wasn't one for silly antics or slapstick comedic activities, in fact she found them most annoying, but the tense silence inside the van was unsettling. This group of people - Hammel's staff, the best and brightest, the strong and brave, had so often before been joking with each other. Exchanging lighthearted conversation with the occasional titter. Willow's jaw tensed for the umpteenth time, listening to the low murmur their leader offered, his instructions. Anya's depressing request. Reassurance. She stared at the other woman, watching her silently with an expressionless face. The situation was growing increasingly more heavy with each shuttering gasp and nervous cough that occasionally passed through the group.

Her eyes moved again, bouncing between members of the Hammel staff, wagering. Many had brought guns along, some, like herself, laid without them, relying on his or her abilities to compensate for the lack of firepower. Willow's reptilian form was notorious for being powerful and intimidating, but she was unsure if that would be enough to keep the lives here safe. She was damn well going to try.

In the next matter of moments, a phone call was received, a shaky response from its answerer, and the phrase, "Nobody gets left behind." was uttered. The reptile pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting into a concentrated expression - they would be arriving soon, she judged from the new wave of tenseness rolling off the driving. She glanced around once more, reaching a few stray eyes, where she'd linger, and offer a silent, assuring nod. After a moment, she inhaled, and spoke in an even, but uncharacteristically lowered voice, "Stay smart. Stay in teams; never go off alone. Be swift, not rash." And then, even more uncharacteristic - a smile. Tight and nearly muddled by the darkness of her eyes, but somehow still comfortable. "Good luck."

They tumbled out of the van, even the night air was bitting and unsettled. The looming image of the compound was intimidating - the building was huge, the individuals that laid inside of it, powerful, and ruthless. She glanced back at the defense group, before turning and walking swiftly, eyes darting, a yellowish hew already present, even without fully transforming. Willow followed behind slightly, the sound of footsteps crunching on the ground was the only thing that laced the heavy night - no insects sang, no bats flew, it was silent, except for them. Her tongue slipped pasted her lips, the elongated muscles forking at the end as she tasted the weighted air, a whole new, animalistic explosion of senses was introduced to her. She could taste the impending battled.

[Paulo Ortiz]

Paulo closed his eyes, keeping his scans going, constantly tracking Neville. "He's with Kilbourne. They're coming." A small smile crept across his face. They were really that stupid? They'd barely gotten out of the compound alive the first time, and they were trying it again?

If the operative had anything to do with it, they wouldn't be leaving.

Those were the only two he traced, until he felt the change in numbers on the compound. They'd brought reinforcements. "They've got more. Eight, I think. Nine."

Problem was, he couldn't tell who they were, not without knowing who he was tracing. Fuck. "Neville, Kilbourne--I don't have names for most of them, can't trace them--Romanov, the security head." There were too many names and images for him to trace, he couldn't possibly get everyone before they....

If there had been a moment where he was concerned about what would happen, it was gone now. He'd traced another of the little band that was encroaching on the house. "They're coming up now, on the property. Tell the others." And Paulo stood, smiling. With one last nod to Reese, he went to the room where Jesse was tormenting Kilbourne's son.

"Jesse," It was rare that the man referred to the blond boy by his name, and it was even more rare that he smiled at him. Particularly this one. It was....fond. "They've got Morgan with them. Do you want him, or is he mine?"

Paulo cocked his gun.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Saint Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle;
be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.

Clarisse’s head was quietly bowed as Sean was speaking. She already knew the drill, for the most part. She tried to keep her thoughts quiet, lest her prayers disturb Sean’s instructions. More than anything though, she needed this. She was frightened, but not for harm to her own self; for harm to others.


May God rebuke him, we humbly pray:
and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host,
by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan and all the evil spirits
who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

Clarisse hadn’t had much time to prepare when the call came, and she certainly looked as few people had ever seen her. Her hair was down, wild about her shoulders until she swept it up into a ponytail. Her feet, for possibly the first time in years, were tucked into beaten running shoes. She sighed heavily as Sean reached the conclusion to his speech, making the sign of the cross over herself.

“Amen.”

Armed with naught but her own pounding heart, pumping adrenaline through her body, Clarisse waited for a defensive-powered ally to present his or herself. She wasn’t about to go running in alone, and she wasn’t going to let anyone else do it either. The most disturbing part about it all was that there was nothing. No sign of life in the huge compound. No shots fired. Just blissful silence.

[Vincent Romanov]

Vincent had been a man of war for a long time and he had hoped to have left that life behind him when he left the Army, but it seemed fate had other ideas in store for him. Men of violence rarely escaped that lifestyle and while Vincent wasn't the irrational violent sort, he did seem to have a knack for chaos. Fighting and war just came natural to him. All those firefights he had been in over in Iran and Iraq never once left him uneasy or unsure of his actions. When the violence started, Vincent's mind just seemed to click over into another mode and he became a war genius. His ability had a lot to do with his success on the battlefield, but it was his natural sense of carrying out what was right and wrong which pushed him to excellence. However, even the most skilled eventually burned out at one point or another and Vincent had just begun to get over that point. Ever since he had lost his squad and all those innocent villagers in that bloodbath overseas, the tougher it had been for him to function. Thanks to those like Sean Neville, Vincent had been learning to deal with his mental breakdown and had even been sleeping better at night.

Standing in his living room, Vincent pondered what was just about to happen. Nothing about this was legal in any form or fashion and there was a very real chance Hammel would burn for the war which was about to erupt. This thought took a backseat as Vincent's own sense of right and wrong took over. The law might not agree with what Vincent and his co-workers were about to do, but it was morally right. The MSAD had kidnapped James and his son and that wasn't right on any scale. Sure, James might have been fair game considering he was adult and knew the consequences of his actions or his husband's actions, but the boy...well...he was just a boy. Drawing kids into such violent actions demanded punishment and Vincent would deal this punishment out in spades.

It didn't take long for Sean to pull up in his van and it took even less for Vincent to bolt out his front door and into the van with everyone else. The van was crowded and the silence was almost deafening. Squeezing his large frame into the van, Sean pulled out and was off to pick up more of this ragtag team. As they traveled, Vincent wondered just how many of them knew what they were getting themselves into. The compilations of powers present was impressive to say the least, but when the chaos started could any of them remain calm enough to use them? For a moment, Vincent thought about voicing his concern on this matter, but then bit his tongue and held his peace. Hammel had the best and these people had shown magnificent control in the past. It was just hard to shake worry before any sort of battle.

Finally, Sean stopped the van just sort of the MSAD compound. It was impressive and very large, which posed a danger in and of itself. As Sean explained his game plan, Vincent listened and leaned over to look out the front window some. A mental picture of the compounds layout flooded his mind and he closed his eyes, shaking his head at the feeling. Having someone poking around in your head always felt weird. Vincent had trust in Sean though and offered no resistance to this mental intrusion. He would keep himself as open to Sean as possible as the man would be leading the mission from safety inside the van. "I'll take point and be the distraction so to speak. Physically I'm unstoppable and that should keep them a bit off their feet," he said as the group began to pile out of the van, "Just keep your heads, move fast and don't play the hero and I'm sure we'll all go home alive," he added with a nod, taking a long breath, waiting for the charge.

[Mason McQueen]

The day before he received that fateful call from Dr. Neville, Mason’s actually contemplating telling the man his withdrawal from the group. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t really a fighter (he had no military training, and Andrei was the one who took taekwondo lessons when they were kids while he took violin classes – a decision he somehow regrets now), he somehow felt that his decision that night was a bit rash. True, he wanted to help, but it never really was in his nature to go out and attack; he’d rather work out a compromise if possible, using only force as a final defensive tactic. And besides, despite him trying to work out his power’s kinks over the last few days (he’s been a rather familiar face around the research complex and the training rooms lately, trying to test his powers to the limit and all that), he doesn’t really think it’s enough to be able to make a difference, much less save a life. (He did find out though that his hair, when coiled unto itself, can stop a bullet midflight; the effort needed to lengthen his hair to that extent however, and the recoil that the impact entails, is rather unpleasant).

When Dr. Neville called however, all doubts were cast away. While he could not find enough motivation the past few days, James and Nikko being kidnapped are enough to put his worries aside. He could just imagine how traumatized the child might be being caught in all this.

Uttering a prayer for guidance and protection, Mason promptly got dressed, doing a few warm-ups he’s picked up from Andrei while waiting for the van to come. He also left a note to his brother, telling him that he’ll be out for a while. “I can do this. Lord help me,” he muttered as he saw the car assigned to pick him up park in front of his car, his heart beating a little too loud for comfort.

The van trip was rather unnerving, but his jitters went an all time high when it finally stopped and people started going down. Nervous beyond compare, he even thought his legs would suddenly give up and make him trip clumsily in front of his peers. (Which, thank goodness, didn’t happen).

He promptly chewed on Sean’s glucose bar, more to settle himself than to lessen his power’s side effects (he brought his protein pills for that), as the man gave them a few more reminders before heading out himself, following (to the best of his ability) the lizard-woman to the compound.

There’s no turning back now.

[Jesse Adams]

During the duration of the call, a little smirk crept onto Jesse’s face. He kept the gun in the boy’s sight, listening carefully to what he was saying to his father. He didn’t want too much given away too quickly. He did, however, get a real pleasure out of seeing the fear on the kid’s face.

But enough of the sweet talk. He scowled a little, getting tired of the sappy nonsense, and on the other end he could hear his former trainer’s voice pleading for the kid to be brave. He snorted. Enough was enough. He reached out and snatched the phone, pressing end before sending it flying across the room. It made a satisfying noise against the wall.

With that, he just sat down, his back against the wall, and watched the boy. He didn't say anything more. He didn't need to. He was just keeping watch with the other operative, instilling more than a little fear into the kid. There was something to be said for just sitting, quietly, and smiling. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but when he heard footsteps in the hall, he ruffled Niko's hair and stood up. He glanced up when he heard his name and holstered his gun again. Paulo rarely talked to him, and never by name like that. It was somewhat unnerving. But the question made him smirk as he looked up at the Cuban man.

“Yours,” he offered, looking back at the blond boy with a cruel smirk on his face. “All yours. Because I’m going to be the one to put a bullet in Kilbourne’s skull.”

He let himself watch the boy for a reaction for a moment before turning away to follow Paulo. They had work to do.