Chairman Duncan Armistead (3 days after the crash)

Duncan rapped his finger upon his desk with urgency. Three days prior to now, a plane shipping twenty new test subjects was lost, all signs of it removed from the radar. Ever since he had nervously waited as footmen searched the area for any sort of wreckage. Normally, they'd find it within hours, but it became apparent that one of the captives on the plane had abilities that could interfere with radio signals - after the plane crashed and he was let out of his ability-numbing cell, he must have blocked the signal to the plane, multiplying his chances of survival tenfold. Duncan could only hope that few had survived the crash and that those who remained would soon be picked off by the soldiers under his command. The last thing he needed right now was some young idiots causing havoc across the continent and ruining the countless amount of work that he and his company had put in to keeping their kind a secret.

Duncan Armistead was the chairman of the Blind Hand. He was a financial mind and had little skill in science, but he had been chosen specifically to manage the project, to hire the employees and to keep any threat at hand. He remained in his comfortable office atop a skyscraper in the lively city of New York while he let the science-heads do the dirty work in the research facility up in Alaska and the hired guns to keep the peace and collect the subjects. Despite the fact the only work he really did was pushing papers here and there and giving the nod when required, a lot of the responsibility for a situation like this was put on his shoulders, and if any of these superhumans somehow evaded his forces and returned to the US, it would be highly problematic for everyone involved and would probably see him sacked.

A knock on his door rang out, breaking any trail of thought that he had. He brushed what was left of his messy hair in to a comb-over with his hand and called out in a nervous and somewhat choked tone, "come in." An assistant of him entered, bearing a timid stance, seemingly reluctant to speak with him. "Well," Duncan spat, "What is it? Do you have news from Canada?" His breathing stopped as he waited for a reply, staring directly at the assistant.

"Yes, sir," the assistant nodded. "Fifteen of them survived the initial crash. Five died on impact, along with the majority of the plane's crew." The assistant stopped for a moment, but Duncan did not say anything, so the assistant continued. "Uh - we've tracked down four of them, captured two, killed the other two who put up a fight... the rest... we're working on it, sir." The assistant stopped still and waited once again, watching as the anger and disappointment spread across Duncan's face. "Do you have any orders sir?" The assistant asked.

"Kill them," Duncan nodded. "Kill them all."

---

Finley Malone (fifteen minutes after the crash)

Finley had been running through the woods for ten minutes before his legs finally gave out - just in time for him to stumble down by the side of a large blue lake. All around the lake was miles and miles of woodland, mountains in the distance. He was relieved in some ways, the fact he was in such a remote place probably meant that his chances of not getting recaptured were better than if he were back at home. He peered around himself, at the clear waters and at the long, flat, grassy bank that bordered the lake - this was a good place for more than one reason. First of all, his right knee was bleeding quite badly, was in dire pain and clearly needed to be cleaned very soon. He also acknowledged the fact that others would also be drawn to the lake, the largest clearing of trees for some distance, and meet with him. He saw the others back at the wreckage, like him, it seemed - special, superhuman, taken from their homes, likely to be tested on - at least that is what one of the guards had taunted him with, a life as a guinea pig. He wondered if any of the other survivors had any sort of clue as to what was going on. Hopefully they would be willing to work together - he didn't see how else they would survive in the wilderness, especially if they were still being targeted by the strange group that had taken them.

He knelt down and examined his knee. He quickly discovered that a spike of metal had been launched in to his knee, hence the aching pain. Luckily, it wasn't too deep, but it was pretty gory - it seemed his adrenaline alone had pushed him away from the wreckage - and perhaps a little bit of wind on his back, so to speak. He cleaned off his knee and lay back, trying to piece together exactly what had just occurred.

(fifteen minutes prior)

Finley took slow, tense breaths in his chair. He was tied down by metal straps as if he was in an asylum from a horror movie. He glanced over to the armed guard that was watching him. He'd tried to talk to the guard, ask him why he was here and where he was going, but until now he had got no response. At first he had tried to be reasonable, but it's hard to reason when you've been tied down and kidnapped. "Look," Finley spat, tilting his head towards the guard and speaking in a mildly Irish accent that had been dulled by years of life in America. "You wait and see what happens when I get out of this chair. You'll regret this." He frowned darkly at the guard, who for a moment smirked before walking over to Finley and staring at him without emotion. Finley was surprised he had gotten a reaction.

"Look, freak," the guard hissed in a low tone. "You 'aint ever getting out of this chair. You're gonna' spend the rest of your life being a fuckin' lab rat." The guard leant down so he was on level with Finley. "So, I don't think I'll be regretting this, will I? I've got a gun, I've got freedom... and what have you got? A shred of self belief? Don't worry, that'll be gone soon." Without another word, the guard spat a globule of saliva on to Finely's face, who was unable to wipe it off. The guard returned to his place and Finley, despite his rash nature, was wise enough not to continue the argument. However much he'd like to give that guard a sock, he'd only be making it worse for himself by insulting the goon.

The next five minutes were silent and painful. Finley was registering in his head the possibility of a life of being a test subject. He quickly removed the thought from his head, realising that dwelling on such a thing was a mistake and coming to the conclusion that the guard had said it just to get him worried. He wouldn't let him in his head. The hideous spot of congealed spit had dripped down off of his face by now, but it had left a trail in it's place that Finley desperately wished to scrub off. As he tried to reach his cheek down to rub on his shoulder, his action was interrupted by a great vibration on the plane. Suddenly, the plane went in to freefall. Finley had no idea how high up he was, since he had no windows, but he assumed they were pretty high as it felt like a while that they were falling for. Finley knew he'd probably die if the plane crashed in to the ground, especially since he was tied in to a chair. He closed his eyes tight, hearing chaos go through the plane, the guard left his room and ran off somewhere.

The next minute was a blur. For a moment, the pilot seemed to regain control, and then seconds later the plane shook with incredible violence, probably driving straight in to something. There was an explosion near the front of the plane - luckily, Finley was somewhere near the back, though it still tore through the plane and sent a piece of metal hurtling in to his leg. He did not realise immediately, but he was free from his chair - it seemed like it was on some sort electronic system that had been obliterated in the explosion. He stood up and stumbled out of the chair, utterly dazed by the crash.

As he emerged from the wreckage he looked around to see a purely chaotic sight. Several people ran out in to the woodlands - some crawled along the ground, struggling to breathe and others were already dead. He saw one guard that looked burnt to a crisp, on the edge of life. He just stood still for a while, peering at the plane that had rammed straight in to a cliff face. He could not fathom how it had come to this. He shook his head and realised that there were guards around him, quickly he turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could away from the plane.

Finley sighed and realised his luck. Without a plane crash, he'd have ended up imprisoned for the foreseeable future, if not the entirety of his life. He just had to cling on to the hope that his luck would continue and he wouldn't get caught or shot by any of these maniacs. He sat and calmly waited, hoping for someone else to arrive so he could converse on his thoughts.

Wendy was rather restrained. Her hands were forcefully held into a pair of thick woolen gloves, as well as a pair of handcuffs binding her wrists together tightly-- almost to the point of making her hands go numb. She breathed weakly...no longer trying to sleep, but trying to stay awake...

She'd been bound, strapped into a metal chair. She'd cried all her tears long ago, however...she'd cried all she would allow herself to, her eyes red and tired, tears staining her clothes as the woman sniffled and calmed down...err...tried to, at least. She strained her hands against the cuffs binding her, tried so desperately to pull herself free of this chair, but all of it was to no avail. She was thoroughly strapped in, and the guard who kept watch over her was dead silent. She didn't know what made her feel crazier, the numbness and hollow feeling in her hands or the eerily silent man with the gun off to the side. But this was all so long ago...no...just...just a few minutes ago?

She managed to keep her eyes open, the world swimming around in front of her eyes. Fire. The stench of burning...burning something tickling the back of her throat The open sky greeted her as she turned her head upward and coughed. A very thick, painful, cough. A gasp escaped her next as she suddenly realized the need for a full breath of air, her body moving itself out of the wreck-- no...no it wasn't. She wasn't moving at all. She tried to pull herself forward with her handcuffed hands, trying to push herself forward with her legs just to scream out weakly and move forward a negligible amount. She turned her head weakly and looked back at her legs, her panting getting caught in her throat as she saw the mangled flesh of her left leg.

The guard moved. The first time since he'd come in the room to guard her. He moved up to her and studied her, his eyes slowly scanning along her body. It made her feel sick to be tied up and bound like this, and then surveyed as if she were just some...prize.

"They're going to torture you." Came his cold voice. "Figure out what makes you...tick."

"A beating heart and a healthy pair of lungs." She spat back, tiredly. His voice made her previously dead defiance suddenly rear its head and surge back to life. "Also, an education." she grimaced as she felt the familiar drain of exhaustion...she'd been unable to sleep for quite a while now...

"Tch...Freak." The man shrugged, before just...patting her on the head and walking back against the wall. This made Wendy so very mad, and all she could do is sit in this damned chair and seethe!

Her breathing picked up as she felt the scream rise in her chest, curling up to her lips and escaping in a panicked cry of pain-- one which she cut short with a bite to her lip, her eyes watering. She sputtered, desperately trying to contain her scream lest there be other...other people alive. She turned and, with great pain, pulled herself forward inch-by-inch with her restrained hands, using the gloves to pull herself along the jagged metal and earth slowly, wincing in pain. She was partially trapped under some metal refuse, and groaned as she strained to push it out the way...glad, for once, that she was both gloved and numb.

She felt the sudden pitch in altitude in her gut, the unique feeling of her stomach rising up as the plane pitched down in a free-fall was...new to her, and it sent a wave of fear and panic into her body. She usually tried to stay subdued, but given the circumstances she began to hyperventilate and struggle even more-- not even caring that the guard had braced himself against the wall and looked just as startled as she felt. He turned and pulled open the door, still holding himself against the wall as he yelled out into the areas of the plane she couldn't see...and she felt the straps of her chair loosen.

This was an opportunity, even if she was going to die in a plane crash, to at least die standing on her own two feet...so she rose up just to slump forward onto the floor of the plane as the pilot regained control and the downward momentum suddenly surged forward...and Wendy was slammed into the ground again, a groan escaping her lips as she cradled her stomach as best she could...then she felt her heart skip a beat as one final sudden jolt sent her flying against the far wall of the plane, pain wracking her body and sending her into an unconscious state as an explosion reverberated through the front of the plane...

She managed to clear enough of a gap for her to push through, still blind with pain as she felt the metal beneath her shift into rocks and eventually softer dirt. She panted for a moment, the sound of fire and even a few other footsteps around her eventually dragging her back to reality. There were others. They were alive. She snapped her gaze open, wincing as the sky stared back. She looked down at her leg and bit her lip...seeing the blood always made wounds hurt more, for some reason...and she tentatively tried to lift it...and winced in pain as her leg worked, but was clearly...clearly fucked up, and would hurt like an absolute bitch for...possibly the rest of her life.

So she turned and, using her one good leg, tried to rise up into a crouch as she looked around...There...There were other people... they seemed to be running away from the plane- oh..oh dear...guards. She felt the pain fade as the sudden necessity of flight screamed into her body, her body surging up and breaking into a rather lopsided run, her body favoring the injured leg and relying much more on the less damaged one...oh god, her whole body felt like hell but there was no time to worry about that now- it was flee into the woods of be captured, and she'd already dealt with being a prisoner for long enough now!

...uncertain period of time later

..She couldn't run anymore. The adrenaline had faded along with the sight and sounds of guards behind her. She'd managed to avoid capture, for now. She limped along for another few minutes, trying to calm herself down as she did so...

"Calm...Calm Wendy...You just...survived a plane crash...Are restrained...may have a bum leg for the rest of your life...but you're alive..." She whispered to herself as she limped along, eventually collapsing forward in pain and forcing herself to crawl along until she eventually collapsed at the edge of some...clearing, a lake just within sight. She, miraculously, was still conscious and would even crawl forward every few moments, as if trying to get to the lake...she was so very thirsty...

Cal was unable to breathe. She was in the middle of a panic attack, something she used to have often even before the development of her powers. Her breathing was coming in short bursts, that would eventually end with her holding her breath until she felt light headed. She would then release the air in her lungs with a pitiful gasp before sucking in more air. She could hear the guards around her snickering, taking great joy in the mental pain Cal was suffering. She tried to ignore them. She tried to think of a happy memory to take her away from this plane and this feeling of doom.

The only memory Cal associated with planes was the time her family took a trip to Disney World. Diana, Cal's older sister, wasn't too into the idea of seeing a bunch sweaty dudes in costumes, but seeing the look of joy on her little sister's face when she hugged a giant mouse mascot, was one that she would never forget. She knew that sitting on the nightstand in her bedroom was a picture of Cal and her big sister, posing in front of the Disney Castle. Cal look was elated, a giant smile plastered on her ice cream smeared face, and Diana was even grinning just the slightest bit.

Cal could feel her insides flop around as the plane experienced what Cal could only assume was turbulence. She was still hyperventilating, her vision swimming as she tried to keep a hold of herself. But she was slipping fast. No matter how many memories she could think of, all Cal could remember was the look of fear on her families face when she powers first emerged. The sounds of her parents, trying to assure Cal that everything would work out in the end. The sounds of Diana screaming as the police forces knocked Cal unconscious.

Suddenly there was screaming all around her. Cal hadn't even noticed that the guards near her had suddenly run off, to where Cal hadn't been watching. The plane had become very shaky, in a way that Cal assumed wasn't proper for a plane. And the screaming, so much screaming. The screaming knocked Cal out of her panic attack, and for several moments she wondered what was happening. Her breathing slowed as she looked around as much as she could while restrained. What was happening? Cal hadn't been paying attention. And if she didn't know any better she would have guessed the plane was crashing.

And then there was a deafening boom and a blinding flash.

Maybe this was what dying felt like. And if this was true, Cal didn't think dying was all that bad. She almost felt peaceful. And warm. So very warm...it was almost like she was burning. Wait...maybe she was burning. Cal's eyes shot open as the searing pain in her side began to intensify. She quickly tried to scramble away from the flames created by the crash. Cal tried to connect the dots on what was happening. They crashed, and she somehow lived.

And Somehow she was gonna get home.

Cal struggled to her feet, wincing at the pain in her side. Her clothes had been singed away there as well, revealing the burnt flesh. That was gonna hurt for a few days. Cal looked around for a moment, taking in the pure terror of it all. And as she began to sprint into the forest, she only hoped she would find some good luck, and maybe something to eat and drink. She wondered how many survived the crash, how many freaks and how many people with superpowers. She only hoped those who died died quickly.

Hard breaths came from the teenage boy, sweat running down how face and dripping into his shirt and into his eyes. He wasn't able to even wipe it off. His mouth and throat was so dry it was insane. All the moisture in the room was gone, and the air was very, very hot. The typical frost on his body didn't exist, the temperature preventing it from forming. He was too dehydrated, and then didn't have much to even create any sort of ice. Not that it would have stayed as ice for longer than a few seconds. He didn't speak to the guard, and the guard didn't speak to him. There was silence between them, Austin having no desire to strike up any sort of one sided conversation

Staring at the wall, wishing to get out of these horrible conditions, he felt the plane shutter beneath him. He looked down at the floor with a frown, glancing at the guard while blinking sweat out of his eyes. He heard yells around the plane, when suddenly his stomach ended up in his throat and it was a startling realization that the plane was in free fall. His eyes flew open, a panicked look on his face. The plane was wrecking. He was going to die. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling the fall stopping for a second, before it jolted forward and a large crash sound as the plane rammed into something. The impact knocked everything out of whack, and he didn't know what happened afterwards.

He slowly awoke, rolling over groggily, a soft yell of pain escaping his mouth. Blood was running down his right arm, staining his shirt, a cut on his forearm. He opened his eyes , realizing the condition of the wrecked ship. He glanced around, adrenaline filling his body when he realized he was free. He stood up slowly, clutching onto anything available, before stumbling out of the wreckage. He looked around, spotting others running. He felt the coolness of the air on his skin, but his mouth was still parched. He looked around, realizing that the guards were also there and some alive as well, and he ran, clutching his arm against his body.

--

He stumbled into an open area, attracted to the water of the late in from of him. His breath was heaving from his body, and dragging back in. He fell down, the adrenaline slipping from his body, pain wracking his body. He slowly stumbled to the water, falling to his knees in front of it. He laid his hands into it, taking a sharp intake of breath before moving into the water, letting it wash off the blood on him, and cool him down, he cupped his hands in the water, taking a drink of it, not drinking too much at one time. He didn't really consider that the water might not be good for his open wounds. After getting enough water, he slowly moved out, freezing the water on his injured arm, while making sure the ice didn't press into the wounds, just cover it to stop bleeding. He couldn't move his arm, but it worked pretty well. He looked around, for the first time noticing more people around him. The water covering the rest of his body was dripping off, though if a person was to touch the water would find it was ice cold. Around him, the temperature was slightly colder, but not enough to keep it frozen. Instead, he would just have frost cover his body again.

In her delightfully unconscious state subsequent whatever horrid aftermaths the unfortunate turn of events regarding the aircraft had caused, Olivia witnessed a vast pine forest overlooking what appeared to be a number of wooden villages in which myriads of families dwelled, elevated and snowy peaks providing a majestic backdrop to the landscape she had set ablaze. In this nightmare, she levitates along a creek, a river leading across the valley and through every village where she is worshipped as a Goddess of fire and ash. As she passes them by in her apathetic trance, hovering above the scorched ground, the people, whose skin and flesh ooze of molten lava and fire, chant in unison “all shall burn.”

Olivia suddenly awakes from the terrible nightmare imposed by a throbbing headache and shrapnel bloodied forehead. She lies amongst broken branches and mossy grounds, pine trees stretching towards the sky above her; her eyes shaded of auburn, watery and swollen. Her memory of how she managed to distance herself from the crash site is hazy and remains a mystery to her. With ample effort and energy, and clumsy drunken motion, Olivia stands on with her fragile frame, hoping the panic to have ceased, but that is not the case. She is stricken by dread as she views before her the same scenery as in her awful nightmare, although it is not identical; the villages do not exist and the entire forest is not afire. She is relieved that what she had dreamt was not reality, but feels a bantam sting in her heart when the wish for it to be real presents itself. Perhaps it was the future that she saw; a future in which her kind ruled supreme.

Her train of thought is interrupted by the pain brought on by the tiny gashes in her forehead. Olivia is bleeding, badly, but she knows what she has to do make it stop. The idea is not new to her, as she has done it several times before. Whenever she would cut herself making dinner, or for whatever other reason, she concentrated heat into her index finger and closed the wound by burning it. However, she was still unsure of how much pain from the burning she actually felt; it was unpleasant, but she had a feeling that it was much less painful to her than it would have been to a ‘normal’ person. Surely, it had something to do with her unique condition and relationship to fire. The idea she had conjure was solid, but she needed to clean her hands and her forehead before doing anything else.

Deeper down into the valley Olivia sees a lake, a source of water which can use to rinse her wounds. She stumbles over rocks and moss, fallen trees and tiny insects as she runs through the woods. The sounds from the crash behind her are ever so present in her mind and in her ears, but she attempts to block them out, as they have nothing to do with her anymore — she is free. The moment forces Olivia to think about the day that she almost scorched her own mother to death and the day that she told her psychiatrist about how it actually happened. It was the darkest day of her life. When she reaches the lake, Olivia falls onto her knees in the shallow water, cleaning her hands of dirt and blood, and splashing her face with the cool liquid. Light ripples of steamy mist exudates her presence as the water is instantly heated by her smoldering body. Olivia proceeds to focus intense heat in the fingers of her right hand and places them on top the tiny gashes in her forehead. The pain stings her mind and senses, but it is only momentary. The bleeding stops and the wounds have transformed into burn marks, which will eventually heal with time.

Then she notices a few others of her kind, or what she assumes to be her kind. Olivia recognizes them from the plane. One of them appears to be covered in crystalized water and reflecting an azure hue off of his presence, the other one sitting there watching the ice man and herself. She approaches them cautiously, staring at them peculiarly. The boy sitting down seems to be injured, bleeding from his knee, badly.

“Hey… I can fix that wound for you,” Olivia said.

Aire

Cried as she rode on this damned plane. She was impaled..by the feelings she held. The plane had slight turbulence and was shaking. Seeing many young people and old people with there heads down, looking at the metallic ground. Sighing, looking up at the people around her. She frowned but felt calmer since it was quiet. She wanted to stand but was afraid that she was going to get shot if she got caught by the guard. Frowning she thought about her family that she hated very much but didn't speak out. The people that bullied her until she dropped, terrible. Still she was away, finally at peace or maybe at peace. The plane felt 'odd'. It slightly turned left and right until..

The plane was falling down through the sky, hearing the screams of the people around her and her scream as well. Feeling the world spinning around her. Her stomach feeling weird, wanting to vomit. She wanted to use her 'new born' powers to fix the problem but she could barely even summon a penny sized glyph or that's what she calls it. The plane had finally it the ground the sounds the pieces of the plane flying around and the propellers exploding. She lied there, blooding slowly flowing down her head.

She could hear the sounds. Her ears ringing. She groaned of pain trying to stand or at least sit up. She saw others standing from the wreckage. She smiled but she was in a state of trauma. She frown almost crying but she had to focus. Knowing that if she could harness her powers she could fix her body for a temporary time. But not exactly fix, just strengthen it. She tried sitting up, successful. Her legs ached but needed strength to stand. She put her free arm onto the ground, focusing. A circle began to appear, small, like a Darren Shan 'Demon' book. The color was yellow. She didn't know what it resembled but she was sure it was strength.

The small glyph gleamed as her torso bended so she can reach her leg. She felt power. Enough to stand but for sure she wasn't gonna break her leg. She slowly stood up, limping, holding onto a broken piece of metal and as she looked up she could see a pine forest. She didn't care what time it was. She had the chance to escape but was to weak to stand, only using the powers she has. Looking up at the others that 'are' alive, giving her slight hope that they might help or maybe not...seeing them as some ran into the valley, water? She thought or maybe it was just an escape. She wanted to follow, needing assistance while her leg slowly healed. She followed them, limping as she walked, looking down at the slope . She grabbed onto a nearby tree. Holding onto it as she walked down it. Her legs began to feel better, canceling out her glyph. Looking up she saw a lake and some others. She limped towards the lake, rocks, weed, surrounding it. Splashing water on her face a few times, beside the girl..beside 'frost man?' she asked herself, wanting to speak but they might be hostile.

Kelly sat strapped down firmly in a seat on a plane she had been forced onto, both of her arms and hands were in some kind of handcuffs where they covered up both of her hands making sure that she would not be able to touch anything. Her eyes went to look at the other men and women who had been taken just like her she thought to herself, then she looked at the armed men, they could easily kill them all if they wanted. Kelly wished it was all just a crazy dream, she wanted to be at home with her mother and two brothers Kelly jumped slightly when she felt a sudden bout of turbulence as the plane finally stopped. "Where are you taking us?" Kelly asked the guard that was near her walked up to her and suddenly back handed her. Feeling the sudden stinging pain she glared at the man who hit her. "Shut up, you will find out soon enough." He said, that's when the plane suddenly lost altitude making the guard fly up to the ceiling hitting his head before falling back to the ground anyone who wasn't strapped in were flung around in the plane.

A lose thing of cargo got close the box flew smacking Kelly in the head the young woman losing consciousness after the impact, as the plan crashed into the ground the front part of the plane crashing into the side of a cliff. The young woman groaned loudly her vision blurred as she slowly started to come to, the young redhead looked down feeling the metal cuffs were gone having been damaged in the impact. Kelly looked around she could smell jet fuel nearby her eyes going down to look at the body of dead or injured guards, some body parts were strewn around the wreckage, feeling a racking heavy pain going through her left shoulder Kelly quickly noticed a metal pole had launched itself into her shoulder. Kelly could feel her blood flowing down her arm she gasped loudly in pain as she started to slowly pull it out of her the young woman quickly tossed it to the ground and climbed out of the damaged seat she had been strapped to.

Slowly Kelly limped her way out of the crash site, she looked back seeing black plumes of smoke in the air, holding her wound Kelly started walking further away from the site occasionally leaning herself against a few trees the pain was the worse she felt ever, the young woman slowly stumbled her way until she found a clearing and could see a few others recognizing some of their faces from the plane Kelly slowly started to approach them.

Orange had never been his color.

It was a stupid thing to be worrying about right now, he knew. The possibility- no, the certainty- of imprisonment and medical experimentation was in his mind, of course. But he was a long way from Alabama, and the shock and horror had worn off in the long hours since his capture. He had had more than a full day to think, the drugs they had pumped him with keeping him in a state of constant drowsiness, but not quite sleep.

And Keith Booker hated the way he looked in this orange prison jumpsuit.

To his half-asleep mind, it was just adding insult to injury, one more indignity to whatever lay ahead, the fear having worn itself to a dull edge.

Then the world lurched around him.

Follow the tracks. It just made sense.

Keith had been rabbit hunting with his dad a few times before the elder man had realized how little his son enjoyed the sport. Despite his distaste for the outdoors, that one piece of wisdom stuck in Keith's mind as he stared down at the boot tracks in the soft mud. He still felt the heat of the wreck at his back, only a hundred yards or so behind him. He had gotten lucky finding these tracks leading away from the scene. As he looked around in bewilderment at the forest and mountains, it seemed logical to find someone else- strength in numbers. Maybe he'd get real lucky and find that real cute boy that had been sat down a few seats behind him, but first things first.

His mind seemed to be working again. The excitement of the plane crashing must have cut through the sedatives they had given him, pure adrenaline whittling his drowsiness away to nothing. Good. Keith knew he needed to stay sharp in this situation, otherwise it would likely end badly. Being stuck out in the middle of the wilderness seemed only marginally preferable to being stuck in some hellhole facility. With that in mind, he set out after the tracks, hoping it would lead him to other escapees and not straight to his persecutors.

If he had been fully awake, he wouldn't have dared to try it. Not with an armed guard standing right there. He'd have been filled with buckshot the millisecond he became solid again, that or passed out and suffocated. If he didn't just fall through the fuselage.

As it was, though, the guard next to him seemed too occupied with the plane plummeting in altitude to notice Keith abruptly stand up in his seat, the leg irons and restraints clattering on the floor. Keith was solid again, grabbing a seat back for support.

Someone screamed.

A blue lake appeared before him, a view like a postcard. Out of the trees, Keith looked around, hoping to spy whoever it was he had been tracking all this time. There, on the shoreline, a small cluster of people, all of them in that godawful orange jumpsuit. "Hey!" he yelled to them, breaking into a run. He didn't care how much noise he made, he was happy just to have found someone, anyone else. This wasn't something he had any desire to face alone. "Hold up, folks, I'm coming to you!"

Finley didn't notice at first, but people began to gather around the shore. Not guards, but what looked to be like captives, as he had been. He watched as more began to approach. Some were apprehensive, others were desperate to reach a water source to clean their wounds. He peered over to a guy stood several meters away from him who had rushed to the lakeside to clean himself - Finley watched in fascination as the water droplets cooled and froze upon him. This confirmed Finley's theory that the others were different like him. It was interesting to see that there was such a range in ability - from manipulating the air around you to being able to dictate the temperature of liquid.

“Hey… I can fix that wound for you,” someone said - Finley turned to see a girl of a similar age to him who looked like she too had been physically scarred from the incident. "That would be really great," Finley nodded, trying to smile up at the girl, but more of a grimace coming out on his face due to the ebbing pain he felt. He didn't think to question the girl how she was planning to do so, as it didn't seem as if she had any medical equipment on her - honestly, he didn't care, he was just grateful that she had offered. "Thank you," he continued, glad to see that these people were trying to build bridges. He hoped the rest of them would be as eager at the idea of an alliance as he was.

He peered back up at the people around the shore - individuals. None of them knew eachother. They were all in pain. They were all lost. He realised that none of them knew what was going on - all equally terrified. He knew now that whatever was going on here was bigger that any of them, and if they were to survive, they'd have to work together.

For just a second, Finley glanced across the lake. There he saw a man, a man that was staring right at him. Nobody else saw this man. He was only there for a moment, and then he was gone. All it took was a blink and he vanished from Finley's vision. Bemused, Finley turned away and put it off as an illusion.

As Cal sprinter through the forest, ducking and dodging trees and rocks as the came towards her. All she cared about was getting home. She had to get home. As she ran electricity crackled through the air around her, buzzing through her feet and making her run faster. If there was one thing Cal loved about her powers was how they made her run. The electricity zoomed through her, making her feel faster and faster. Back at home she used to go for runs at night, as a way to try and dispose of extra electricity. And now she didn't feel like she was going fast as usual, this was probably because she was recovering from whatever sedatives they pumped into her.

She could hear voices, they were starting to gather in one area. Cal changed direction mid step, a fizzle of electricity following in her wake. She paused for a moment, keeping herself out of their line of sight. Cal's intent was to figure out who these people were, for all she knew they were the very people who kidnapped them and intended to experiment on them. Electricity crackled through her fingertips for a moment as she looked into the distance. The bright orange color stood out against the greens and blues of the lakeside. So they were in the same boat as her.

With a soft sigh Cal bent over, time to modify her own orange jumpsuit. She rolled the long sleeves up to her elbows, wanting to keep her arms free. She then did the same with her pant legs, rolling the pants up to her knees. She actually liked this shade of orange, but it caused them to stand out like a sore thumb in the forest. Soon it would have to go. She tore a bit of the orange fabric off her her sleeve, using the scrap to keep her hair out of her eyes. She then looked down at the people at the lake. They all seemed injured, and Cal was suddenly reminded of her own injuries. The adrenaline to survive kept her going, but now the pain was catching up to her. Cal clutched her side with a wince. She slowly hobbled toward the lake.

Briefly a thought passed through Cal's mind. She wondered what would happen if she alerted the people who were kidnapping them of the location of these other escapees. Maybe she would be found as noble, different from them, maybe they would let her go free. She shook her head, too dangerous. The electricity crackled around her feet as she approached the lake, trying to keep her distance from the others. She had no reason to trust these people. They could be angry or dangerous.

Wendy struggled forward, grunting and yelping in pain for every inch of ground she covered...until she so desperately made it to the edge of the lake. She plunged her restrained hands into the waters and tried to use the gloves to scoop water up towards her face to no avail-- the thick wool absorbed water rather than carried it. She let out a pathetic cry and just...seemed to give up, not having noticed the others in the area at all yet. She let her body go limp, and slumped down as her hands sunk into the cool waters quietly.

After a few seconds she shot back up, her eyes full of sudden realization. She lifted her head suddenly, and stared down at her hands in the water very intently as she licked her lips impatiently...

Please...please work.... her brain whispered to herself as she moved her hands furiously in the water, the gloves filled with the liquid as well as full of it. After a few more seconds she laughed, rather depravedly, as she pulled her hands out of the water-- and out of the handcuffs. she pulled her arms out of the water, the skin up to her forearm now replaced entirely by crystalline water that faded back into skin just above the elbow. She closed her eyes, wincing prematurely, as she pulled her liquid hand out of the handcuffs with no problem whatsoever. She stared, stunned, at her hand...the clear liquid with light blue tones reflected light and allowed her to see through it...

At the other people. She froze up- figuratively speaking, of course- and slowly pulled her other hand out of the handcuffs as well, her delight at her freedom dashed by the memory of her detainment. These people, dressed similarly to her, might also have been kidnapped...If they were, they might help Wendy!-- Oh dear lord that man is glittering in the sunlight...

She had her gaze turn suddenly to the frost covered male as she self-consciously looked at her arms made of water and placed her hands against the grass, moisture leaking from her and into the plant as she focused, once again, on pulling the quality of what she touched into her body...

And slowly the water faded back into skin. Skin began to grow fibrous, thick, strong. Muscle and bone turning into a substance that emulated grass. The pale skin slowly grafting into the light green shades of grass, her skin folding over and becoming replaced by layer after layer of roots and leaves, until her arms were completely replaced by the strong fibers of plant-matter and the energy-giving properties of Photo-synthesis. She hadn't quite figured out how her body could handle that, and wasn't even sure if she had that aspect of her power figured out yet-- but she definitely felt a lack of necessity on that front. The less she knew about this curse the better.

And so, with green arms-- all the way up to the shoulder-- the girl pushed herself up, grimacing as her leg screamed with pain, and limped towards the group of people slowly...picking up traces of chatter as she did so, but nothing actually understandable. Just voices, voices of people she hoped would help her. To be frank, she was incredibly intimidated by every single person here. The stigma that the government only took bad people was still somewhat grounded in her head, despite her own kidnapping. Maybe it's just the shock, who knows?

As she approached she faltered in her steps as a woman who seemed to be emanating electricity with every step appeared in the clearing. She shuddered, realizing that she wasn't really safe from...anyone...with plants for arms. At least, she didn't feel as if she was.

Moments before the crash
Aaron hated flying it always made him feel nervous, and now strapped down inside of a plane, going god knows where, to people who were o going to do god knows what to him made him hysteric, he started with asking the guard near him questions the guard didn't say anything, the guard acted like he didn't exist. When that failed he began to breathe in and out loudly, but that only took his mind off the experience for about a minute, but apparently that was a minute to long.

As the plane jerked down and entered a violent free fall he watched the guard float for a couple seconds before slamming into the ground violently, this drove Aaron into a panic "oh shit, oh shit, oh shi-" He didn't get the chance to finish his curses before the plane hit the ground and the whole world went black.

After the crash

When Aaron awoke the impact must of made the straps on his hands loosen because he could wriggle them out, when he got his hands out the straps and was about to work on his legs he heard a creak and a groan from part of the wreckage above him and a part of the plane landed heavily on him winding him and probably bruising a couple of ribs, with great pain and effort he managed to push the hunk of metal off of himself and free his legs from the straps. Now free he got up and walked out of the wreckage.

He must of walked into a nightmare, because on the ground in front of him were various people who were dead or dying but luckily there
were also a couple of rifles strewn about, so he picked them up looted any dead or unconscious guards of clips and went to follow the other prisoners to the lake.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Olivia retorted and glanced at the boy as she squatted by his feet to inspect the wound. It had punctured his skin and flesh on both sides of the kneecap. That was the only meaningful observation Olivia could do, as she was not a doctor. In fact, she had no idea what she was doing other than planning to cause even further pain to the boy, but it was suffering that would prevent him from losing too much blood and perhaps even pass out.

Olivia concentrated her energies into her palms, which began to illuminate of cardinal and crimson coloration. She could feel the heat radiating from her limbs, just as Finley probably could at this point. “Take that tiny stick on the ground there and bite down on it, so that you don’t accidentally sever your own tongue — this might sting a bit,” Olivia said. She then pressed both of her palms together on Finley’s knee, at the two points of puncture, and held for just a second. A tiny puff of smoke emerged from the wound as the skin in and around it crusted from the burning.

Olivia immediately took a step back from Finley when she was finished. It was perhaps not the ideal introduction to her person, she thought, but at least the boy would not bleed out. She could also hardly imagine that the boy expected this to be the help that she offered. Usually when you offer some kind of assistance, it does not involve further and perhaps worse pain than what caused the request in the first place. Olivia chuckled as she watched Finley cringe the pain. He was brave and strong, but it was a cute sight nonetheless. “You okay?” she inquired, “I’m sorry, I probably should have told you what was coming,” she chuckled again, “Maybe you should cool that off in the water.”

A sense of relief washed over Olivia as more of her kind grouped at the lake. Them being together vastly increased their chances of surviving the coming trials of the wild and Blind Hand. Olivia casually waved at Keith as he approached the rest of them with a hearty greeting, to signal that he was welcome to join them. Following his approach, a girl that looked like a tree or a heap of grass and branches approached the group, but she seemed to have some troubles with her treading and faltered to her, what Olivia assumed to be, injuries. Olivia left Finley to his own devices and approached Wendy with hasty steps. “Are you alright, sweetie?” she said, but was caught off guard when she noticed yet another girl, sparkling, with white hair, close by. “Oh, hi,” Olivia said, while attempting to help Wendy onto her feet again.

Wendy shuddered and panicked at Olivia's approach, but sighed and just stopped moving.

"No...No...No I'm not..." she said, shuddering as her voice was weak with pain. The girl was nearly collapsing from the pain. She looked from the approaching woman to the man she'd just placed her hands on, then swept her gaze over to the others-- just sighing and lowering her head a bit as she shifted into a less-expressive state. She hugged herself with her plant-esque arms, before slumping forward onto her knees as she just...stayed silent and rubbed her arms. Olivia's touch startled her, but Wendy let the other escapee assist her into a standing position...

"Thanks.." she mumbled quietly as she braced herself on the gal.

Ignore this.

Olivia had a feeling that the girl was somewhat embarrassed about her bizarre ability, whatever it was. But what she felt had nothing to do with what Olivia could not stop thinking about: her mind could only form an image of Wendy’s arms set ablaze, akin to what the occult dream had displayed. Where did this come from? Olivia was disgusted at her own train of thought, her eccentric urge to set things on fire all of a sudden. Perhaps the plane crash and all the events prior had imposed upon her a thought of absolute freedom, her own reign. She could feel a burning rage within her. One that if set loose, could dominate all organic life on this Earth.

With one hand steadying Wendy’s balance and the other gently caressing her back to comfort, Olivia led the girl to where the others were sitting, where Finley was resting. “Thanks,” Wendy mumbled, but her appreciations were not required, as they were all in the same boat, on the same dangerous and destructive path. Olivia shook her head slightly, “No need to thank me, sweetie. I’m sure you’d do the same for me,” she said, adjusting the pace of her treading to what appeared comfortable for Wendy. “My name is Olivia, by the way.”

As the two girls approached the rest of the group, Aaron inquired if they needed help. Olivia glanced at him and smirked slightly, “No, just about there,” Olivia said and helped Wendy to sit down. While she stood next to the flowery girl, glancing at the others and the lake, the only thing Olivia could think about was the dream, or the vision — whatever it was — and the words that her worshippers had spoken. The syllables echoed within her mind, within her body, itching and scratching at her arms and fingers. Olivia began to whisper the words to herself, repeatedly: all shall burn, all shall burn, all shall burn, all shall bu… until she interrupted herself and inquired of the group: “So, what do we do now?”

"Yeah, I'll second that one, honey," Keith agreed, sighing as he sat down on an exposed rock next to Olivia. Unconsciously he brushed at his hair with his fingers, trying to get it to look perfect. Always paid to make a good first impression. "Name's Keith. Pleased as I am to meet y'all, it might behoove us to put some sort of plan together. I got a couple points I'd like to raise."

"One, that crash won't go unnoticed. Some great big lovely men are likely to come looking around, probably with dogs and rifles. They probably aren't going to be too happy with us."

"Two, where the hell are we?" he said with an expansive gesture that took in the lakes, the trees, the blue mountains just visible in the distance. "Is this Colorado or something? What are we gonna do about food and shelter? Where's the nearest Qdoba?" Keith shrugged. "These are things we need to think about. I don't know if we're just going to try and walk to civilization, but we need to make some sort of plan. I've said my piece, I'm sticking with you guys for the time being."

Keith sighed as he looked over the others, unsure if he could trust them at all but unwilling to face this situation alone. He suddenly realized, very abruptly, that his survival may depend on these people. A sobering thought, for sure. An unwelcome one, as well.

Finley was still cringing from the burn that had quite ironically both increased the severity of his pain and perhaps saved his life. He dipped his leg in for a short while, closing his eyes as the pain slowly changed from being an unbearable sharp jab to a constant irritating pulse - something that was a problem, but a problem he could live with. He tore part of this shirt arm off and wrapped it around his leg, eliminating any chance of infection that had already been significantly lowered thanks to the girls burn. He glanced around at the people around him - they were talking now, some of them.

The girl that had helped with his leg was the first to find the courage to speak out towards the whole group, putting out the blatant but very relevant question of: 'what now?'. Finley wasn't entirely sure, and he wasn't the type who could make wise decisions in stressful times, he'd need to think it over, so he did not reply right away. The absence of sound was quickly filled by another person, who quickly announced himself as 'Keith'. Keith seemed very level headed for such a situation, and was clearly making a perhaps futile attempt at organising the chaos around him.

The silence hung for a few seconds, clearly a moment for the group to ponder on. Finley decided that he would now put his view forth.

"I don't know about you, but I don't feel safe here," Finley sighed, paranoia forcing him to look over his shoulder to make sure there weren't any guards coming after the group. "We're in the middle of nowhere and we are at risk of being ambushed. Do you think we'd be safe in the city right now? 'cus I don't." He slowly stood up, eager not to damage his leg. "I say we stay out here until we can decide what to do in the long run... Get away from this wreckage and make our way deeper in to the woods." Finley ruffled his hair as he played with the idea of returning home and using the crowds to hide himself, but he came to the conclusion that he had been caught so easily the first time that he had no chance the second time. "I don't really see an alternative."