Push

OOC is here.

Push

http://www.filmofilia.com/wp-content...ush_ver2_m.jpg

"Thank you," Chloe Jensen sang brightly as she took the offered hot dog from the vender's outstretched hand. The male's lips were parted in a wide smile, totally oblivious to the fact that he had just given this stranger something off his cart for free. Her pupils returned to their normal size as she took a bite from the wiener, licking the ketchup off her lips as she nodded in approval to the male. "Thanks, man. And don't forget to tell your daughter I said hi," she said, before grinning back at him and turning to join the busy crowds on the streets of New York. It was the second time that week she'd used the 'I used to babysit your child' trick, the first having earned her a free movie stub.

A little sly smile tugged the corners of Chloe's mouth upwards as she strolled through the hustling busy-bodies, taking her time to people-watch and enjoy her snack. The sound of honking horns and buzzy chatter filled her ears and accompanied her on her way back to the complex. She pushed her short, bleach blonde hair behind her ear with her free hand as the breeze tried to get strands of it stuck in the ketchup.

Finishing up the hot dog, Chloe rubbed her hands together to somewhat cleanse them of the crumbs before she reached back into her jean pocket and fished out her house keys. She rounded the corner and jogged up the few steps before opening the door into the apartment building, unaware that there were two figures in the distance that seemed to be following her. She jerked her chin up in a nod of acknowledgement to the door man, who was too busy enjoying a rerun of Friends to make much small talk. Chloe jabbed a finger at the elevator button, which called it down from whatever floor it was on. She slipped herself inside, and within moments was back in her roomy loft on the twelfth floor.

Shrugging out of her leather vest, Chloe reached over to the wall beside her door and flicked on the switch that turned on the stereo, which promptly began to play 'Love Is A Battlefield' by Pat Benatar. Chloe let out a couple of laughs at the song choice, but didn't complain. She grooved in time with the beat that spilled from the speakers as she set padded over into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. "We are young!" she yodeled jokingly to her refrigerator as she waited for the glass to fill before lifting it to her lips and taking a sip.

Suddenly, the door to her home was blown off its hinges by a great force, sending it flying across the room. A flicker of panic flashed through Chloe's eyes as two men in pristine black suits marched into her apartment, one of them grinning at the song that came from the wall speakers. "What the fuck?" Chloe spat at the duo, her eyebrows furrowing as the first thought entered her mind: Mover. She hadn't even realized that she had lost her grip on the glass until it shattered onto the floor, sending shards of the cup flying everywhere. The cold splash of water against her thighs brought her back to her senses, but before she could Push either of the two males, the Mover flung his hand out and sent her reeling into the cabinets, where she hit her head hard, then slumped to the floor, unconscious.

++++

A persistent throbbing at the back of her head - That was the first thing that registered with Chloe. The next thing she noticed were voices; Male voices. She tried to open her eyes so that she could see the strangers, but could only manage to get them up a crack. Her vision was hazy, but she could make out two silhouettes standing on either side of her bed. What the hell were these bastards doing in her house? ... Was this her house? No, everything was too white.

"She survived, Mr. Grindal," said the male to her right, who was dressed in a doctor's getup. The other male, Grindal, was wearing a suit, like the intruders to her apartment had on. Though this one seemed to be much more confident in the way he carried himself. He didn't lean over to examine her as the doctor did; He simply stood there, watching her intently.

It must have been then that the doctor realized Chloe had awoken, since he turned to the IV and fiddled with the dials, and soon, she was pulled back under.

++++

A persistent throbbing at the back of her head - That was the first thing that registered with Chloe.

Wait... Deja vu?

This time, Chloe was able to fully open her eyes. It was then that she confirmed she was not in her room, but in a hospital of some sort. The walls were too white, there was the constant beeping of machines around her, and there were seven other beds in the place, all occupied by complete strangers.

Where the hell was she? Her heart beat sped up as she slowly sat up in her bed, flinching as the headache punished her for the movement. On the far side of the room, she could see a mirror and a door; The former was surely a one-way window, and the latter was sure to be locked. Chloe sat in thought for a few moments, contemplating whether that scene she'd witnessed in her subdued state was real or not. If it was, then she figured it was safe to assume she and these people were indeed in Division's grasp, and that Grindal guy would be at the head of all this.

"Shit," Chloe muttered under her breath as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly hopped down. It was then that she noticed she was still wearing the clothes she had on yesterday; Her gray skinnies and white v-neck. Odd. You'd think they would've let me have a gown or something... she thought as she made her way over to the door, her boots clacking on the ground with every step. Reaching out to grasp the knob, she twisted it and pulled, but nothing happened, as expected.

"Shit," she repeated again as she let out a heavy sigh and turned to face the room just as people began to wake up.

It had been a pretty bad day so far. You'd think a guy who can see the future would have it made but, sadly, that wasn't the case for Tyson Matthews. Seeing the future didn't really help him advance his career, which was being the manager of a busy grocery store. He could see angry customers coming before they came but, what did it matter if they were going to come and be angry anyway? It didn't help him avoid the damn pothole he almost broke his ankle in when he tripped earlier that morning. In fact, seeing the immediate future wasn't as useful as one would think it to be. However, the one thing it was useful for, was Krav Maga class. Krav Maga was the one athletic thing Tyson had been forced to do since he was a child but, when he got older, he found himself continuing to attend classes to let off steam after a day such as this one. Being a Watcher was tiring but, class usually always calmed him down to the point of happiness once again.

Class had just ended as Tyson changed back into his street clothes and said his goodbyes. He checked a mirror in the locker room once, making sure his hair was in order and his clothes were positioned weirdly or anything. He only wore a basic white T-shirt, blue jeans, and athletic sneakers. Not really street clothes but, he wasn't trying to impress anybody anyway. Shouldering his duffle bag, he left the building and made his way down the sidewalk, through random bodies. His apartment wasn't far so he always walked to and from class to get a bit of exercise in, as he didn't exercise normally in any capacity. Cars zoomed by and the general noise of a city during daylight filled his ears as Tyson sipped a bottle of Aquafina. His thoughts were muddled and unclear as he headed home but, he knew one thing for sure; he definitely wanted to sleep when he got back home. He had the day off from his job and class was pretty hardcore so he was happy that he would be able to sleep when he got back.

After about fifteen minutes, Tyson finally arrived at his apartment building. He lived on the top floor in a moderately nice apartment building. At least, it was nice enough to have a door man. The two men exchanged pleasantries and Tyson headed through the lobby and took the stairs up to the top, another slight form of exercise to a guy with no regulated discipline. As he made his way through the corridor to his door though, he suddenly got a bad feeling. It could have been anything but, he wasn't about to take any chances. Stopping for a moment, Tyson closed his eyes and concentrated; he had been using his ability for years and he could induce visions of the immediate future with no problems. His vision showed a first person view of himself walking through his door, closing it and then being ambushed by two men in black suits after getting his things settled in the living room. Once the vision ended, a gulp went down Tyson's throat. It wasn't often that his visions showed such malicious intent anymore. Something like this was straight out of a damn movie and he couldn't begin to know how bad it would be. What his vision didn't show him was that the men in suits weren't normal humans either, just like him.

Deciding on a course of action, Tyson slowly made his towards his apartment, number 36. As he approached it, everything looked normal. It wasn't kicked in or even broken in any way. The men must have gotten a key somehow. Testing the handle, the door was unlocked however. That meant confidence. Whoever the guys were, they were confident they could do whatever they wanted to do. Still thinking they were average humans, Tyson chuckled quietly to himself. These guys had no idea who they were dealing with was what he arrogantly thought. He walked into his home and closed the door softly behind him. He then made his way into the living room purposely, back turned to the other areas of the home. The two black-suited men stepped out of their hiding places, hands shoved in their pockets, and sporting nonchalant attitudes. Cocky bastards.

Tyson turned quickly. "Who the hell are you and how'd you get in my place?!" He asked angrily. The men only grinned.

"We already know you can see the future, boy. Not that it matters because resistance is futile. You should have run away." One of them menacingly replied. Tyson's eyes widened. How did these normal guys know he was a Watcher? It was completely impossible. Tyson didn't have close friends and made a point not to tell anybody about himself. Somehow, these guys knew about his ability though. Of course, they could have been bluffing.

"What are you talking about....see the future? Is this a sci-fi movie?" He retorted. The men chuckled.

"Nice sense of humor. However..." A vase hovered into the air next to the speaking man. Tyson's eyes widened again and one word ran into his mind; Mover. The vase shot towards Tyson to which he throw his duffle bag at it, causing it to break. "...We didn't come here to play around." The man finished. Tyson was instantly worried. He wasn't really a fighter by any means but, he'd defend himself if he needed too. Besides that, why in the hell was a mover coming after him? He wasn't important to anybody, or so he thought.

The Mover looked at the other suited man. "Hey, you know what? We're ahead of schedule. We've got a bit time. It said he takes some bullshit women's self defense class or something. Why don't you try him out?" The other suited man smiled and rubbed his knuckles. Tyson turned to him while keeping aware of the Mover. He didn't know what these guys wanted but, he only had thought in his mind. He didn't want to die, not like this.

"This guy seems to be normal, or maybe he's a sniff? In any case, I'll make short work of him then barrel out the window." Tyson thought. The other man was coming from the kitchen and there was a window on the wall over the sink. The Mover stood in place as the other suited man approached Tyson.

"Don't worry kid....this'll be quick and somewhat painless." He said confidently. In the end, this wasn't a movie, anime, or a book. This is was real life. There was no time for monologues and threats so as soon as he finished, Tyson rushed the man. It clearly took him by surprise but, he was ready. Tyson launched a full scale assault as a left jab, right cross, and left round kick shot towards the surprised suited man. He blocked the first two shots but his ribs burned as the kick sunk in deep. He didn't have time to mull over that though. Ferociously serious, Tyson didn't let up. The two men went back and forth, throwing all manner of punches and kicks and dodging and blocking each others attacks. At this point, it really did resemble some sort of martial arts flick. However, Tyson was successfully pushing the man back.

"This kid..." The man muttered as Tyson continued to shoot accurate punches into formidable blocks. Reaching behind him, the man pulled a knife from the counter and swung at the attacking Watcher. Tyson jumped back but his shirt still suffered a lengthy horizontal cut.

"Shit..." He mumbled as he changed his stance to an open palm one. The Mover grinned, still standing in the same spot. He wasn't worried in the slightest. To him, this was just a fun little detour. The Watcher would fall in the end was what he was thinking. He wouldn't be wrong about that assumption either. The man with the knife took the opportunity to lunge at Tyson as soon as he let up his attack. He began swinging wildly; horizontally, diagonally, and vertically, though they were all accurate slashes. This man was obviously trained. Tyson evaded the swipes until one came directed at his throat. He stepped to the side, grabbed the arm, and performed a disarm maneuver that ended up breaking the man's hand. The man screamed in pain as Tyson turned him around, delivered a knee to his sternum, and launched a right elbow that connected cleanly to his temple. The man stumbled back and hit the counter, his head bouncing off a hanging cabinet.

The Mover shook his head in disappointment as Tyson gunned it towards the window. The next thing he knew though, he was in the air and moving backwards violently. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain through his skull and then darkness.

+++++

Tyson awoke abruptly to bright lights and beeping sounds. He didn't move instantly as he struggled to remember what happened before he got there. His memory was hazy but, he could remember getting thrown into a wall or maybe through it. Slowly sitting up, he noticed the machines monitoring his vital signs and the tubes connected to him. He pulled the needles out and swung his legs around to the ground. "What the hell...." He sighed as he rubbed the back his head. He looked around and was met with only white and hospital beds. Why the hell was he in a hospital? With that thought, he decided to induce a vision because maybe seeing the future would help him figure things out. He quickly found that he couldn't do it though, not with the sharp pain running through his head at the moment. He would have to wait until later when the pain subsided.

Standing up, Tyson quickly noticed he was fully dressed. What kind of hospital doesn't give you a gown? Besides that, he had on different clothes. Another white T-shirt but with dark blue jeans, more casual sneakers, and blue vest with a collar. Looking out at the beds, Tyson counted six other people and then he saw the girl, Chloe, awake. Thinking she may have something to do with this Tyson angrily approached her. "What the hell am I doing here, huh? Who are you and what is this!?" He demanded to know. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have known that Chloe probably didn't have any more info than he did on their current situation.

It was about 7 in the morning, a mixture of the relaxing sound of the sea pushing in and then pulling out along with the islands birds singing their sweet melodies is all that could be heard. The sun had come up about half an hour ago and it shone directly onto a little shack just off of the bay. Inside the shack was a few cases and boxes, a small kitchen-like area and a ragged hammock stuffed inside the corner. Relaxed snores lumbered out of the being lying in the hammock, Benjamin Browne was sprawled out over his 'bed' his dreads covering his face as his arms were wrapped tight around the thin material it was made of. His eyes slowly opened not that it was very noticeable with his long thick braids of hair covering them. He exhaled a loud sigh-like yawn and slowly slid himself onto his back, pushing his dreads back with his right hand. Looking around for a second he took in every detail of the inside of his home.
"Yep, this is my place" He chuckled, still feeling rough from the parade he went to last night. Slowly pulling himself up off of his back, he turned over and slammed his feet down onto the wood floor. THUMP

He felt very light headed as he stretched out his arms, clicking his back slightly. There's nothing else more Ben hated than a hangover.. Then he thought to himself "I know the perfect cure" smiling as he did so, he reached under his hammock and pulled out a thin metallic box. Ben placed it onto his 'bed'-side table and popped it open, reaching into it, he pulled out his rolling papers. He slid two of them out of their packet, licked one end of them and stuck them together, making one big 'paper'.
Reaching back into the metallic tray he pulled out a small plastic bag packed full of a green leafy substance, covered in tiny little crystals and orange coloured hairs. His mouth turned into a wide grin as he popped open the bag and started picking at the leaves, sprinkling it all into the paper; followed by rolling up a little piece of cardboard and sticking it at the end, he then picked up the whole unfinished construction and rolled it up, licking the 'gum' and flattening it down. Benjamin then took his lighter and walked out off his shack door still nude, he sat on a chair next to a little table outside his door. Placing the joint into his mouth he lit it up and inhaled the thick smoke.

About 10 minutes later.
He flicked the ashy stub out into the sand and walked back into the shack for a minute. He returned with blood shot red eyes, knee length shorts on and his dreads rolled up into a bun on top of his head. He then casually strolled down onto the beach, which was about a 5 minute walk. Standing in front of the cool turquoise blue ocean he took a few deep breaths before assuming a stance. His legs were about shoulder length apart and he bent his elbows back so his fists remained clenched at his waist. His breathing slowly got deeper and faster, out of nowhere he spun his body round and sent his foot up into the air with great speed. He held this position for a while before hopping onto that foot and then kicking up in front of him, raising his foot to about head height. He kept holding the kicks before he slowly brought them down, he'd been reading a lot about different fighting styles and had recently been trying to incorporate different martial arts into his fighting style. He'd brought his legs slightly closer together and sent his right fist into the air, pulling it back with speed he then sent his left hand as an open palm into the same direction. At great speed he was sending combo's of attacks using his hands, head and elbows into the exact same space in front of him. He then brought his legs into the combination, hopping from foot to foot, spinning and kicking into the exact same direction. This lead into him flicking his body back, he then caught himself in the sand with his hands, his legs straight up above him. He then let his body drop so his knees were nestled up into his chest and he kept himself up with his hands. This was followed by him stretching out his legs in front of him and he quickly started to spin his waist around, lifting each arm as his legs came close to them but using all his upper body strength to keep him up. He exercised hard for about an hour before falling to his knees covered in sweat and panting very heavily.

He looked across at the sparkling blue waters of the sea and picked himself up off of the sand. He slowly jogged into the water up till it was about waist high and dived into an oncoming wave. He swam through the refreshing water, getting deeper and deeper until he came up to the surface and it was about chest high. He smiled as he lay back, floating freely in the cool waters, the sun reflecting off of his soaked skin. For about 20 minutes he swam care-free through the water, looking over at the beach he noticed two suited figures looking completely out of place.
"Division" was the first thing that came to his mind, there wasn't much he could do out in the ocean, if he tried to swim away he would surely get caught in the drift and drown. He just had to swim slowly and hope they don't notice him. Ben slowly swam to the shallower parts of the water going under and over the sea line, slowly but surely bobbingup and down for short breaths. He got to a certain point and decided to stay under for a while to see if he could hide for as long as possible. Then out of nowhere a brown loafer shoe plunged itself into the wet sands right next to his head and a loud screech punctured his ears. The sound not only hurt his ears it sent a shockwave of pain straight through his brain. He tried to cover his ears and get himself out of the water but he felt two sets of hands throw him back into the water, forcing his head down into the depths of the wet, shell-filled sand; causing his face to get cut. The pain and lack of oxygen didn't take long before he passed out.

Who knows how long its been.
Benjamin's eyes slowly scraped themselves open and he found himself in a large pure white hospital-looking room. Ben squinted due to the power of the light striking his eyes.
"This ain't my bed.." he thought to himself.
"Am I trippin'? Or is this what heaven is like?"
He slowly, opened his eyes again adjusting to the light and now all the sounds followed with it. The beeping of the machines penetrated his ears just like the screaches of the division lackeys. He looked down at himself and he was dressed in his baggy hoodie, the shorts he was in and his trainers. With all his strength he pulled himself out of the bed and noticed there were several other people in the room all lying in beds except for the other two who were at the door. Benjamin looked over at the guy confronting the girl and cleared his throat very loud.
"AHEM. Da' fuck is goin' on 'ere?" He asked in his strong Jamiacan accent.

some things are worth forgetting.
[x] [x] [x]

"A pretty girl like you should be out on a Friday night on a date, or at least at some crazy Berkeley party," Brooke quipped. Anna made no reply, her fingers busy with the comfortable pattern of knitting, her mind pleasantly blank of any intricate thoughts that didn't revolve around her fingers and the scarf she was making for her caring and often nosy neighbor, who was being more nosy than caring now. "I mean, really, Anna," she said insistently once she realized Anna had no intention of replying, "don't you at least try to have any friends, other than me? I'm four years older than you, and let's not forget that I am a single, desperate, unattractive and overweight locksmith - I feel like the girl you let hang around you out of pity." Her tone was full of complaint, not only of Anna's social decisions, but also around her own insecurities. Anna nearly smiled at Brooke's transparencies. She was always looking for a comforting ear, and Anna was always glad to be of service.

"Oh, Brooke, you know that's not true," she clicked her tongue softly, like the old woman she was at heart, "I think you're the most honest, unselfish person I've ever met. Who else spends their Friday night holding a spool of yarn for a loner like me? You and I both know you're gorgeous enough to pick up any man off the street. Now hush, stop buying into your own lies, and take this time to think about what you like about yourself."

Brooke smirked at her, unwinding the yarn at a steady place. They had done this before, spent many Friday nights together working on this beauty of a scarf - they were accustomed to the ritual, and even to the recycled conversations. But neither of them minded, the pattern was comforting for both of them, for reasons unknown to each other, though much speculated. Anna thought Brooke was just being selfless, and Brooke thought Anna was creating a scarf for the landlord of her house, and if that was the case, she wanted to be able to say she was a part of the scarf - hey, the landowner was pretty cute, not that Anna had noticed. She was always just out of reach, that one. "It's just like you to go all teacher on me, Anna."

"And don't forget, I'm going all sister/counselor on you, too," Anna replied cheerfully. She finished the scarf quickly, as Brooke set the yarn down and stretched lazily, yawning and murmuring something about working hard to get this done for the landlord. At those words, Anna lifted her head sharply in surprise. "For the landlord? That silly Mr. Green? Oh, Brooke, he would look atrocious in this scarf. Blue is not his color, and-"

"I think he would look great in blue."

"You're too kind, Brooke. Besides, if I was making him a scarf, I would make it green, out of spite. The rent is too expensive. This is for you. As a thank you, for sticking around as I made it. It was meant for you originally, I don't have anyone else to give it to, but I found plenty of reasons to give it to you the longer we spent these nights together." Anna smiled modestly and handed it to Brooke, whose cheeks were flushed with the shame Anna mistook for shy gratitude. She smiled inwardly, pleased with the result, and clapped her hands. "Wow! What are we going to start doing on Friday nights now, Brooke? Should we start knitting a green scarf for Mr. Green, after all?"

"Uh, well," Brooke stammered, hesitating in response. In truth, despite her eagerness to give something to that cute landlord who Anna had so insulted, she had found the nights dreadfully boring, though comforting. She was 26, and she was spending her nights with a woman barely old enough to get drunk. Even worse, she was pretty sure Anna had never even been drunk, much less in the situation to get drunk. As nice as she was, as soothing for her ego as she was, she was... well, a little distant. Most of the nights were spent in silence, little small talk, and occasionally a little sisterly as she had mentioned - but Brooke wasn't looking for a sister. She was looking for a wing-woman. She had been excited to get the little project over with. And instead of a conversation with Mr. Green about how fetching he had looked in the scarf, she had gotten the scarf out of it. Blue wasn't even her color, it was on her never-wear list. She couldn't wait to leave and give it to Mr. Green herself, somehow. Thus the hesitation. "Well, Anna, there's been a flood of new clients at work, and-"

"Really?! Wow, that's great! I'm happy for you!"

"Ah, thanks." Brooke was stumbling over her lies now, in a rush to get them out of her system, as she rarely got into this sort of situation. "But anyway, I'm going to have to work my ass off to keep up, and... well... Overtime, most nights, and... Well..." Anna was watching her patiently, the understanding glint in her eyes gleaming even before she knew what she was being understanding of. The damn fool. "I won't be around as often anymore," Brooke nearly spat out.

"Oh! Well, that's okay. I'll knit him a scarf myself."

"N-no!" What if he figured out her deception when Brooke told him she had made it herself? Things could get messy, and he would jump to Anna's side, no doubt. "I actually made him one myself, so..."

"Oh, really? Oh, you sweet! Alright, then. I'll see you around Brooke!"

"Oh, uh, okay." She exited and after a quick goodbye, she began to drive off, a little insulted. To be honest, Brooke had expected a little more sadness on Anna's part. A reaction, at least, other than the dismissive pat on the back and "Good job!" that a teacher gives to the student. But she was training to become a teacher, and it was her nature to not give a shit about the people around her, her 'friends.' But still. She thought she was a little more important than that, after all of Anna's talk about her being beautiful and selfless and awesome. She made a right turn at the next intersection with a little pout on her face, only to be cheered up at the sight of the deep blue scarf. Oh well, Mr. Green was the next stop. Well, after she dropped by her own house to beautify herself up. Suddenly, she was doubting Anna's proclamations of how stunning she looked that night.

Anna, on the other hand, was still in the same contentment she always felt. She settled down in her couch and held the pillow to her chest, smiling, sleepy and ready to drift off into a deep sleep. She was alone, but that didn't have to mean she was lonely. I'm glad Brooke and I are such good friends, she thought as sleep settled in and encompassed her.

[x] [x] [x]

"This one's going to be the easiest yet," was what woke her up. A deep voice that resembled a bass guitar more than an actual male, was speaking over her, and Anna drowsily moaned in protest and turned over. "Look, she isn't even reacting to our presence." He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Miss, could you come with us please?"

"What are you doing? You're just going to ask her like that?"

"Maybe she's so sleepy she won't even notice. Besides, she's not one of the major powers. She's not so violent, and seems almost compliant. Submissive. My kind of woman."

"You're a pervert. Look, she's awake."

Yes, she was. Anna had been startled the moment she heard the word 'powers.' How did they know? She clutched the blankets tighter. Could she reach out and touch them...? No, she couldn't. They would notice, and were tense, she could tell that much. So she feigned ignorance. "Mm, wha... who are you guys?" She gaped at them, hoping they would fall for it. Please oh please oh please don't turn me into a lab rat I want to teach children not have children taught about me in the far distant future, the freak girl who could erase memories and was a danger to society-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the owner of the first voice's cackle. "Trying to outsmart us. My kind of woman. Look here, toots, we found you first. We decide how to play." He smirked and nodded to the man beside him. "You can go now."

The man looked down at her and shook his head at the first man. "You are so dramatic." He flicked his hand towards Anna, like a wave, and she felt rather than heard or thought the word: Mover. A Mover, what did that.... what did.... wha.....

And all was black.

[x] [x] [x]

Anna was still dazed and groggy when she awoke, but the unending white, brighter than the deep beige color of her walls at home, blinded her, and she moaned and covered her eyes with her hands. "Oh, holy cow!" She remained in that position until her memory came to her, suddenly, in vivid scenes, as if the past was a movie. Oh, holy cow. Holy cow times fifty. She moaned louder, completely upset by how her life was turning out. As if having an unpredictable power wasn't enough - she had to get abducted, too. Great. This was great. In her moment of distress, Anna realized she had ignored the presence of others, which she could... well, sense, from her strong intuition. She looked around, showing mild surprise and veiling her shock and confusion and upset state. So she wasn't alone, thank God.

"Um... hi..."

Vincent’s footsteps echoed down the street as he ran from his pursuer, who was busy hurling abuse towards the back of his head every other step. This was becoming a more and more frequent image in his life, something that Vince blamed on tougher security systems but was more likely a result of his own overconfidence. He ducked down an adjacent alleyway and pelted towards a fence blocking the public off from an old factory. The flustered shopkeeper arrived behind him just as his feet touched the ground on the other side “You little shit, I’ll tear your fucking lungs out!” Vincent just laughed and waved a stolen lighter at him “Too slow pops” and with that he re-pocketed his latest prize and ran off into the depths of the red brick building that he had recently made his home, the man shouting at him the whole way. It looked like he was going to have to relocate again, it was probably about time too seeing as the local kids were starting to recognise his face. As he slowed to a walk he turned his gaze around the factory floor, bits of machinery were scattered everywhere and he smiled as he laid his eyes on each of them in turn. Defiantly time to move on, he was getting way too familiar with this place himself. It was a pity since the factory would be fairly sheltered in winter, and even warm seeing as he found himself in the possession of a new lighter, ah well, better pick up some things and head out the back way. This was the part he always dreaded, sure he could pick himself up and move without any bother, but walking away from a place you felt at home wasn’t a nice feeling and it would often worm its way into his mind late at night. That sort of thinking got you killed so he tried to ignore it, if you didn’t it could send you out of your mind or worse cloud your judgement. He remembered what his parents used to say, that home was wherever you could sleep safely and he raised a hand to his cap, the one thing he always kept the same in an ever changing lifestyle. It was then he noticed that his blue bomber jacket had a serious rip on the left side, he guessed the fence had a new flag on its wire. He would need to replace it soon else it wouldn’t be able to hold all the tools of the trade he had grown accustomed to, speaking of which... He fumbled around in the many various pockets of the jacket making sure everything was still there. It looked like he was missing one or two smaller items but he could easily replace them at the next convenience store, free of charge of course.

As he rounded the corner leading to his secret stash he found himself staring into the face of a very tidy woman in a very dark suit. He froze for a moment in shock before reaching for the biggest pocket of his jacket and fumbled with an item inside, all the while the woman made no threatening moves, she didn’t need to after all, her suit screamed official and she certainly wasn’t a corporate worker. She just stood there looking him up and down as if making sure of what she was seeing. After precious seconds Vince pulled out a big black pistol, the sort that would put a hole in just about anything. “Don’t move lady, just stay back or I’ll blow your head right off” he said in his most threatening tones, which weren’t very threatening even with the gun. Was this about the thefts? No way, that was all small time stuff, who’d sent a suit after a petty thief? “Who the hell are you?” he shouted at her.
“Me?" she sounded almost offended "You know who I am Mr Shifter, so why don’t you put the gun down nice and slow” For some reason he found himself lowering the gun so that it was pointed at the floor, it was a great idea actually, and why not? She was an old friend after all.

Vaguely Vincent noticed that her pupils had dilated considerably and barely thought about what that meant. She was a Pusher. Pushers in suits meant only one thing: Division.
A heavy clunk noise came from behind the stupefied Vincent and he slumped to the ground. A tall man walked into his field of view holding a large, rusty spanner and the gun in Vincent’s hand was kicked into a plie of chain well out of his reach. After a few moments it was no longer the big threatening weapon it had been, it was now just a simple lump of wood in with the basic shape of a gun. It looked more like a kid’s toy than anything else.
“Guess he wasn’t armed then?” The tall man said to the tidy woman.
“Of course not you idiot, where would he get a gun?” She scoffed “Now hit him again so we can get the next one”
“Yeah, yeah” the man grumbled. The spanner fell down on Vincent and his vision faded out, his mind retreating to the pleasant world of unconsciousness.

---------

It was some time before he awoke but when he did it wasn’t much of a consolation. He was in an uncomfortable bed in a white room. Crap.
Slowly the memories of what had happened came back to him and he fumbled groggily around for his things. His clothes were all still here, even the ripped bomber jacket, but everything he could use to make an illusion like that gun trick back in the factory were gone. Even that new lighter he had gone to so much trouble to 'find' wasn’t with him anymore. It was at that point that Vincent found a cord attached to his arm, he followed it out from under the sheets to machine that seemed to be reading his vitals. Crap!
He had a moment of panic before calming himself down, whatever was going on was serious. He did the only thing he could and feigned sleep. Even when four of the other occupants in the room woke up and started moving around he just lay there, hoping that the world would just go away and leave him alone. Sorry mum, dad. Looks like the bastards got me.

Oliver Mundy stepped through the door into the dark night of a New York back street. The dulled cries of a trumpet wailed from inside the building behind him. The slow swing of the brushes on the drums could just barely be heard. A lonely piano mourned along with the trumpet. The bass meandered along a minor scale. Oliver put on his hat and looked up into the starless abyss. A pair of headlights warned of a single car looming up the street. Every once in a while, there was a comforting sign that this dreary street was still populated: a muffled shout or the bang of a door shutting. The car passed and Oliver turned towards home. His apartment. It passed as home, for now. If it wasn't for the club, Oliver would almost never leave his apartment. His trumpet case swung loosely from his fingers as he strolled. The cool air was still and Oliver's head was nearly void of thoughts. A cloudless walk home was always relaxing to Oliver. Nothing to worry about.

He opened the door to his apartment building and approached the elevator. While he waited, he could hear the dim sounds of the doorman's small TV combine with the footsteps of people above. Just as the waiting seemed too long, the doorman spoke up.

"It's outta order, bub," the man spat quickly. Nodding, Oliver began walking up the stairs. He reached his floor, but his heart sank upon seeing his front door. It was open. The soft light of a single lamp poured out into the hallway. Oliver approached silently. Slowly, he pushed open the door. Aside from the solitary lamp in the entryway, there were no lights turned on. By the dim glow he could see that he had been robbed. He creeped into the apartment, wondering if the criminal was still there. After feeling safe that he was alone, he loosened his tie and put down his trumpet case. Oliver looked with annoyance at the mess that had been made in his apartment. He let out a sigh.

"You're hard to track, 'Wolf' Mundy," a voice growled from behind Oliver. Oliver whipped around to find the source of the voice, but before his turn was complete, he was knocked out swiftly and painlessly.

Just as quickly as he went out, Oliver came to. His head hurt and there was a strange taste in his mouth. Oliver began to wonder how long he had been out. He seemed like no time at all. Suddenly, he realized that he wasn't in his apartment. Then he remembered the thief. He remembered being attacked by someone who knew his name. He sat up slowly and surveyed himself and his surroundings. He was still wearing his well-fitting suit and tie, but his wallet was gone. One of the arms of his suit was rolled up to allow for an IV. There were other people waking up around him and they appeared to be in the same state he was in. The room looked like a hospital, but somehow felt even less welcoming. There appeared to be a one-way window on the far side of the room. He slowly wondered why anyone would need to observe such a random group of people recover from headaches.

Everything clicked at once: Division.

"- And people don't even read their Bible any more, folks. They might go to Church on Sunday. But they think they're doing God a favor. They throw a couple bucks in the basket and think that's just dandy. Well let me tell you, that's not what God demands of you. Demands." Anderson thumped the Bible rather literally on the pulpit in front of his rapt congregation. He didn't believe a word of it, but you wouldn't know it to hear him speak. It was as if the Holy Spirit, fiery and all-consuming, was pouring directly from his lips. "Book of Malachi. Chapter 3. "Should people cheat God? Yet you have cheated me! "But you ask, 'What do you mean? When did we ever cheat you?' "You have cheated me of the tithes and offerings due to me. You are under a curse, for your whole nation has been cheating me. Do I need to say it, folks?"

The sort of people who went for this thing tended to be older, lonely and prone to getting swept up in the heat of the moment. Play the crowd right and you could make them genuinely believe they saw the Lord himself come down from on high to moon the mosque next door. And when he raised his hands on high, the well-trained masses cried out their hallelujahs. "God is coming folks. We all know that from Revelation. And when he gets here, is he going to find you wanting? Are you going to stand there on Judgement Day, the Almighty glaring down on you and say 'Well gee, I would have given more to the Church but I wanted to get one more Blu-Ray boxed set?' You can't take Will And Grace to heaven! Praise the Lord!" The crowd erupted the same back at him. "Now, I hear we got some in need of healing tonight. Bring up the first one, Martha."

The next hour or so was your fairly typical faith healing session, though he added a little extra actual healing to the formula so that the sermon's message didn't come across as insincere. Chronic pain was the easiest to banish, but you got the odd old biddy in need of a hip replacement or something. He could probably permanently fix that, yeah, but not in the time allotted and not without some serious effort, so he just staved off the problem a few months. But the effort was tiring and so, when he drew things to a close and got off the stage, one of the new assistants handed him a cup of water to drink.

Whatever was in there was fast acting. He never made it to a second sip.

When he woke up next, he was in what appeared to be some manner of hospital room. Had he passed out? Slipped and fell? His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. He began to stir and felt something tugging at his arm. He looked down see that his jacket had been removed (neatly folded on a chair next to him) and his shirt rolled up to put a drip into his arm. He wasn't sure about whether he should remove it or not. The doctors must have put it there for a reason.

Across the room, he heard a burst of profanity and his training kicked in with an appropriate Bible verse. "The Gospel of Matthew tells us 'it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person.' Please watch your language, especially in front of a lady." He added that last part after quickly surveying the other people in the room.

~Mercedes Vesperatti~

The inside of the home was dark. No lights on, no windows open, blinds shut, and daylight strictly forbidden from entering. It wasn't pitch black but, it was dark enough to be considered strange since it was three in the afternoon. The entire building was wrapped in silence and the only living thing inhabiting the Vesperatti residence besides Mercedes was the lone maid. She was an older woman who had worked for the previous owners of the mansion before they passed. Matilda had known Mercedes all her life so it weighed on her heart even more that there was nothing she could do to give back the confidence Mercedes once held so dear. Matilda strolled through the long, dark corridors of the large home, navigating to the lonely room Mercedes had since resigned herself to. With a light knock on the mahogany door, Matilda sadly waited for the response from her paranoid master. Nothing happened.

Matilda knocked again, a bit louder this time, a slight, muffled yelp was the reply. Rustling was heard and it sounded like a lot was going on for the girl to just be coming to open the door. After a minute or two though, the thick door finally pulled itself open. "I'm.....I'm sorry Matilda..." Mercedes stammered with her head hung, brunette hair falling all over her face. "I was sleeping." Matilda shook her head, her hands clasped at the front.

"Mercy, my girl, you haven't eaten all day. I've prepared a meal for you in the kitchen."

"I-I'm fine Matilda. I'm not that hungry right now..." Mercedes reply sheepishly. Matilda sighed and bowed which was the formal way to say I understand your decision. The door closed softly and the maid began her trek back to the kitchen to dispose of the meal. As slight daylight penetrated the closed curtains and shone on the face of the maid, a tear rolled down her face. She knew there was nothing she could ever do, no matter how much she tried.

Back in her darkened room, Mercedes went and sat back on her bed. Her room was probably the size of a one bedroom apartment. Her parents had accumulated wealth and the girl had inherited the home when they died, as per the will. Within the room was a full exercise suite, a kitchenette, and even a couch. The girl really had no need to ever leave her room if she wished. That day, she had exercised, ate a meal, and decided to go to sleep before Matilda had come knocking. The reason for this secluded lifestyle was simple. Mercedes didn't trust people. No matter who you were, or what you stood for, it didn't matter at all to the paranoid girl. She was going to keep to herself and live her life completely alone no matter what. This was the life she chose after the tragedy happened a year ago. However, that wouldn't stop the tragedy that was about to happen at this very moment.

Mercedes instantly felt it. Something had penetrated her shadow radius. It had done it easily too. This was probably one of the strongest sniffs she had ever felt. Instantly, her fear boiled over. Mercedes body was shaking and she could feel chills running down her spine. As her eyes met with the two suited men, tears began to stream down her face. She couldn't even bring words to her mouth. Evil grins became even more menacing in the darkened room. Mercedes curled up in her sheets, hands over her head. She was shaking violently now, hoping, praying this was all a bad dream. She could feel the men getting closer, their volatile aura's invading her will. The last thing she remembered was a violent gyration of her body. Then the darkness she had already embraced, decided to embrace her back.

+++++

Mercedes woke up slowly. She first recognized the beep of machines and then the various tubes coming out of her. The bright lights hit her next and she formulated that she was in some kind of hospital. Dried tear streams felt awkward on her cheeks though they weren't visible to anyone. She had stopped shaking but, it was probably due to whatever was being pumped into her system. She sat up slowly and saw the other individuals already awake. Fear took hold again.

She curled up in her sheets though, she decided to take the IV's out for fear of whatever was being pumped into her. She then noticed she was fully dressed. Dark blue skinny jeans, Converse shoes, a black v-neck, and a red hoodie. She pulled the hood over her head and buried her face in her knees. She didn't want any of the awakened people to notice her. However, she couldn't help crying at the situation. She had been taken. Kidnapped. She figured it was Division coming to finish her off so her entire family could be dead and gone. She silently cried in her knees while the other people did whatever they were doing.

One by one, Chloe's new roommates began to wake from their slumber, their faces reflecting what hers went through just moments ago; Confusion, realization, and a flicker of fear.

The first to approach her was the male who had been in the bed beside hers. He marched from his bed over to where she was standing near the door, all assumptions and no clear thoughts. "Woah, woah, woah," Chloe snorted, her expression both offended and amused at his aggressive approach. She had thrown her hands up, palms facing the male, so that they assumed the universal 'stop' signal, though she didn't back away from him or anything. "Let's calm down for a second, shall we?"

Chloe's gaze flickered up to meet the male's, and she instinctively Pushed him, in an attempt to get him to calm down. But for some reason, she was feeling a block. It was obvious that it hadn't worked in the way that he was still glaring at her. To top it off, she probably looked like a dumbass for staring into his eyes like that. What the hell is going on?

She tore her eyes away from his to glance at the next male who had awoken, his voice thick with quite the accent. Chloe couldn't help the little grin that tugged the corners of her lips upwards despite her frustration with her inability to use her powers. "Your guess is as good as mine, man," she replied, before turning her back to the others so that she could examine the mirror. Maybe that Grindal guy was out there, watching the little band of circus freaks he had gathered together react to captivity.

From behind her, she heard another female voice, as well as the others rustling in their beds, which signified that all of them were probably awake by now. Chloe pushed herself away from the glass, doing the motorboat with her lips as she swung around to take in the appearances of the motley crew. Five guys, three girls. None of them wearing hospital gowns. There was also no doubt in her mind that these people were superhumans, like her. It annoyed her that she didn't know which was what, though. The fact that she couldn't Push any one of them worried her a little bit, but it also meant that none of them could do anything to her, either.

"The Gospel of Matthew tells us 'it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person.' Please watch your language, especially in front of a lady."

Chloe's blue-green eyes darted to look at the male who had spoken, taking in his proper appearance with a cocked eyebrow. Not one who liked to be told what to do, she reacted as she always did, to piss people off. Folding her arms across her chest, she sang out, "Shit, fucking monkey ballsacks." Her eyes then trailed over to the other two females with a slight smirk, signifying to them that she was only playing around. As always, she didn't take the situation as seriously as she should have, but hey, what else could they do?

"Huh. So it's obvious where we are - That's no fucking mystery. Why we're here? I'm sure none of you have an inkling either. So don't start pointing fingers, or else I'm going to punch you."

Of course, Chloe was simply joking about the last part. But hey, if that's what it took to get everyone thinking clearly, then so be it. They needed to focus if they were ever going to escape, anyway. But first things first, she supposed; "Alright, so. I'm Chloe. I'm a Pusher." She lowered herself into a slight curtsey, her head bowed as she waited for the "Hi Chloe"s to roll off everyone's tongue as if they were in an AA meeting. When it never came, she sighed heavily and straightened back up. "Look, Division already knows what you all can do. I'd like to know as well, just as a heads up if we're going to be bonding so much in here."

Tyson angrily awaited a response from Chloe as the girl put her hands up in the universal sign for "Hold on a minute!". At that moment though, he felt a slight buzz rush through his head. Initially he thought it was the pain but, that had an entirely different feeling. "Let's calm down for a second, shall we?" She had said. As she walked and introduced herself, it all became clear. She said she was a pusher. A fucking pusher. There was a reason Tyson had tried desperately to separate himself from that world of superhumans, Division, and all that. He hated Pushers, to the core. He felt like they lived their lives taking advantage of people by literally forcing their feelings on them and bending them to their will. No person should have to go through that, was Tyson's thoughts on the matter. With that revelation, he knew he would dislike this woman for as long as he had to be with her. Though he didn't say it, three words flashed through the man's mind quick and aggressively. Fuck a Pusher. Just fuck them.

He went and leaned on an empty bed, folding his arms as he tried to calm down. He knew his anger was getting the best of him but now, a new conclusion had been reached. He still couldn't use his ability. When he tried to induce visions concerning these new strangers, nothing happened. The pain wasn't so bad anymore but, he still couldn't see anything. It was frustrating but, all it meant was that he would have to enjoy an unforseen future just like normal people.

"The Gospel of Matthew tells us 'it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person.' Please watch your language, especially in front of a lady." Some guy said, probably towards Tyson for snapping at Chloe. Tyson was already in a bad mood, considering he could now remember his loss at his apartment and the fact that he had been kidnapped anyway. Now some guy was preaching to him?

"Just who the hell are you to tell me anything?" He shouted in the direction the man who said it. What did that guy think this was? Tyson had woken up in a room with people he didn't know at all and couldn't accurately gauge their trustworthiness. Was he supposed to just roll over and accept everything and try to become buddy buddy with everybody? What unrealistic, nonsensical way of thinking was that? Any one of these people could easily be associated with the attackers and putting up a nice front. Especially if superhumans were involved, it could all have been some type of ploy. The only thing Tyson knew for a fact, was that he had been captured against his will, and there was no way in hell he was going for the "let's friendly introduce ourselves and freely give away information so you can make us regret it later" routine. He scoffed and turned his head.

"I'm not telling you a people a damn thing about me. Feel free to make up anything you want to know." He announced. He didn't care who would like him or dislike him for his actions. As far as he was concerned, these people were complete strangers and could have been in on everything. He already didn't trust a single one of them anyway so he couldn't expect the same in return.