Flying was quite the experience. Dozens of people taking off in a giant hunk of metal, flying thousands and thousands of feet in the air. So many things could go wrong; like a bird flying into the jet turbine, or the emergency doors could bust open suddenly, or the pilots could suffer simultaneous heart attacks. All of these factors and people still paid hundreds of dollars to get on one. Gwen had only flown once before as a child, an experience she could hardly remember now, but as she sat in her seat the blonde was frozen in shock.

Eyes wide in amazement her face clung to the window as she stared at the scenery below. This was better than she could have ever imagined, and this was all for free. Squishing her nose against the glass as the plane drifted over the ocean, Gwendolyn stared in awe as her breath caused the glass to grow foggy, "Wow.." It wasn't her intention to block the view, but with her bulky jacket and wild hair, her body almost seemed to swallow the window.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that it's your first time flying..." An amused voice said sardonically next to her.

It had taken Gwen a moment to realize who was talking to her at first, and once she turned to throw a glance at the person beside her, her eyes widened in surprised. It was a boy. He looked a few years younger then her, but nowadays it was hard to tell apart the toddlers from the middle schoolers, so Gwen wasn't quick to assume. His clothes were plain, and simple, a feature that separated him from some of the more extravagant looking passengers in first class. Not judging him, considering her appearance probably resembled that of a homeless person, her focus quickly turned to his features. The kid had a nice smile, which was always a plus in her book, but his pale skin color and the dark bag under his eyes told her he could really use some sleep.

After taking a second to examine him, the corner of her lip tugged into a playful smirk as she finally responded. "Yes, and no! I flew with my dad a long time ago to visit my grandparents in Virginia, but I was really little back then so--" Plopping back in her seat before finishing her sentence, Gwendolyn found herself swallowed whole and cut off by her massive blue coat. The top of her hair bunched out at the collar of the jacket as a muffled groan could be heard within the dense fabric.

'Great first impression, Gwen.'

Flailing in frustration, she clawed at the coat before pulling it over her head and throwing it on her lap. Just about smothered, she gasped for air almost comically as she clawed the arm rest in support, "Christ! I couldn't breath for a minute."

Adjusting her disheveled plain white tee after wrestling with her jacket, Gwen continued where she left off. Cheeks flustered and a large smile pulling at her lips, she placed her full attention on the boy beside her, "As I was saying; I was a baby when I flew with my dad, so I don't remember much. So, I guess you could say this is my first time."

"Keran." he introduced himself with a grin, extending his hand.

Keran was a nice name, and despite its femininity and Keran's androgynous appearance, the blonde didn't feel the need to ask any questions. Acknowledging his name with a nod, she took his hand into hers before introducing herself, "Name's Gwen, Gwendolyn Smith." Not taking any chances by saying her full name, the lie slipped out without a problem.

"I'm guessing this isn't your first time on a plane then." She said jokingly. "So what brings you to Haiti?"



"Calm down, it could just have been a coincidence." Smith was one of the most common family names in America, after all, hence why it was so often used as a generic pseudonym in spy movies. However, instinct told Keran that there was probably more to it than met the eye. Much like himself, Gwendolyn stuck out like a sore thumb in the upper crust environment of first class. Her hair was wild and disheveled, her clothing plain and tattered, and her general disposition was guarded. All of which seemed to suggest that it might have been possible that she was in the same kind of trouble as he was. It wasn't exactly tourist season as of yet, and he had seen very few people under the age of thirty onboard. It could have been nothing, of course, but if it wasn't...

"Oh, you know, just visiting family..." Keran responded nonchalantly with a wry grin. "As you can clearly see from my skin tone, I'm obviously native..."

He took another sip of his now almost empty cup of coffee before declaring confidently in painfully bad French:

"Je entendu Haiti bien de naturel, mais trouble ne avec pas devant!" He grinned self effacingly. "How about you? What brings you to this beautiful country? Apart from the poverty, bad sanitation and socio-economic chaos, I mean..."

"I'm visiting some family too. My cousin Wally, actually." Gwens smile had become strained, and her words straight forward. "He does missionary work, and asked me if I wanted to volunteer."

Here's where it gets embarrassing if I'm wrong...

"Wally? I think I might know him." he gambled. "Nice suits, late thirties, works for W&V incorporated? Does a great Men in Black impression, watches too many spy movies?"

Eyes widening slightly, her features relaxed as a grin stretched across her face, "That's the one!" She said with a wink. Holding her hand out this time, Gwen continued to flash a cheeky grin, "Hayes."

Keran did his best not to let the massive internal sigh of relief show on his features, simply responding with what was hopefully a nonchalant smile.

"Valkesh." he responded, giving Gwendolyn's hand a polite shake. "He convinced me about volunteering as well, actually. I wasn't really sure about taking the offer, to be perfectly honest, but I really didn't think I had many options. Still not quite sure I did the right choice, really. How about you?"

The cheerful features on Gwens face had left, leaving a worried frown in its place, "Same." She replied somberly. "I didn't really have a choice either, but what the government is doing to people like us is terrifying, and wrong on so many levels. It would have almost felt wrong if I didn't come, honestly."

Eyes narrowed, and foot tapping rapidly, it was becoming clear the conversation was making her uncomfortable, "I just hope good ol' Waldo is the real deal, you know?"

He held back a cynical comment and just nodded. No point in adding anxiety now. Besides, he'd need all the allies he could get. Although he was normally a fairly cheerful sort of person, these were hardly normal circumstances, and his sense of humour had a tendency to get considerably more morbid than usual when he was tired. Then again, Haiti was a great place to make someone disappear. And even if the letter had been sincere, there was no telling what sort of mess they had just gotten themselves into. 'No such thing as a free meal, after all...' Hopefully it wouldn't be a metahuman trafficking ring or a convenient way to dispose of them. Those could be terribly inconvenient.

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worse, I guess..." he simply said instead.

He nervously gulped down the remainder of his cup.

"So, what can you do anyways?" he asked in hushed tone, trying to change the subject.

Silent at first, she finally responded to Kerans question after a few seconds of tense silence. "Well," Raising a hand to cover her mouth, she leaned in and whispered, "I'm a Fairy"

Wiggling her eyebrows playfully, Gwendolyn sat back in her chair and smiled, "Really though, I can make, and move these little lights that I call, Wisps. You know, like Will-o'-the-Wisps," She added, her fingers fluttering for dramatic effect. "They're fast little shits that never seem to shut up, but they can be a bit shy in public so I can show you once we we're somewhere more private. What about you?" She finally asked.

"Apart from my wonderful personality and amazing good looks? Well... According to my old kindergarten teacher, I'm apparently the anti-Christ, and the evidence has been pretty compelling so far..." he said jokingly.

Technically speaking, actually, it wasn't entirely inaccurate, from a certain perspective. Shortly after he first discovered his powers, he may or may not have scared off a group of drunk college students trying to pick a fight with him at night by inferring he was Lucifer the Morning Star, once most favoured child of the Almighty, their new lord and master. In his defence, he had only been 14 at the time. Who wouldn't have wanted to show off with their power a bit?

"Seriously though, I can basically control shadows."

Laughing softly, Gwen shifted in her seat so she faced Keran completely, "Oh nice! Coincidentally, my parents believed I was a prophet of God when I was little. In fact, a lot of people did for a while. Those were crazy times man, crazy times." A nostalgic look had come to her eyes as she shook her head softly.

"So when did your abilities start showing? Or have you have always been the spawn of the devil?" She asked coyly smirking.

"A bit after I turned fourteen, I think. It was really anticlimactic too, really disappointing." He pouted melodramatically. "No statues weeping tears of blood, no talking in weird tongues, no nothing. You'd expect that they'd take that sort of things more seriously, really. At least make all church bells in the city suddenly go off at once or something..."

He gave an weary, exaggerated sigh.

"Biblical signs of the apocalypse really aren't what they used to be. Oh well... I guess I should just be thankful that they didn't make the walls start bleeding, though, it would have been a terrible mess to clean up. My parents would have been pretty mad at me if that happened too."

"I don't know, man. It's starting to feel like the apocalypse--for people like us at least." Features settling into a weary smile, Gwen gave a forced laugh and shrugged, "Who knows, maybe us meeting is the sign of the end. You know, like the whole light and dark joining as one thing?" Her nose suddenly scrunched in distaste at her own words, "Wow.. that was cheesy. Forget I said that!"

He cracked up a little.

After laughing at herself, Gwen shook her head as the same tired smile returned to her face, "Still, if Haiti isn't the place we think it is there might be a chance we'll have to team up. So," Hand raised, and pinky extended out, she continued, "If you've got my back, I got yours?"

"Right." He grinned, entwining his finger with her own.

A sharp pang of melancholy stabbed his heart as he did so, remembering how he would always seal promises to his little brothers the same way. God, I miss the little hellions already...

He rubbed his eyes exhaustedly and laid his head back into the seat.

"I think I'll try to catch a little rest before we land, if you don't mind." He mumbled. "Had a busy day..."

= = =

It was dark in Haiti by the time the plane arrived, though the bright lights of the airport made it easy to see. Humidity and heat struck them like an almost physical blow. It was hot. After the traditional announcements and delays had been dealt with, the passengers were ushered out towards the Arrivals Lounge, all off-white and listless metal. They stayed together as they went towards the baggage collection area, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. After they had both collected their luggage, they began scanning the area for the person sent by their mysterious benefactor.

((**This post will be edited with Phoebas' dialogue and stuff. Wanted to get it up so people could make their posts started, so apologies to Phoebas.**))

He had scarcely finished his coffee when he noticed him. The man holding the sign was one very similar in appearance to the man that had handed Jamie the letter that had started this whole thing. Sharp suit. Sunglasses. Emotionless face. It wasn't the same guy, but it might as well have been, because not only did he look very similar, but he acted almost identically as well. Stood with the same posture. He looked the part, as did the man who had met with Jamie earlier. It amused Jamie, in a strange way, that these men looked exactly as what government men looked like in his head, yet they were so clearly opposed to the government.

Jamie caught Hannah's attention and pointed at him. "That's the guy." he told her before getting out of his seat and approaching the man, a little hesitant, but having no desire to remain in this airport for much longer. The whole reason he and Hannah had gone to the cafe was because they didn't like people staring at them. Wherever they were going, it was probably less populated - and hopefully with more trustworthy people.

"Excuse me," Jamie said as he approached the man, who did not flinch. Jamie couldn't see for the man's sunglasses, but he guessed that the man had already been looking at him. This unnerved Jamie for a moment, but he continued nonetheless. "We're the 'Smith family'." He said with confidence.

The man nodded slowly. "Mr. Vaughn thanks you for accepting his invitation."

"Mr. Vaughn?" Jamie asked, connecting the dots in his head that 'Mr. Vaughn' was most likely the 'WV' that had sent him his letter, but still seeking further information.

"Mr. Vaughn is the man who invited you here."

"Who is he?" Jamie continued.

"Listen... this isn't a Q&A," The man replied. His tone was no-nonsense. "I'm just here to take you to Mr. Vaughn. Are you coming?

Jamie waited for Hannah's approval before the two followed the man outside of the airport, where he took them to a helicopter, which Jamie took a seat on reluctantly. Part of him felt like this could be a ruse and the chopper could just be flying to some test facility, but his gut told him that they were going to safety.

It was quite a while before they reached their destination - a fairly small island. The only building on it was a large mansion. This calmed any previous fears that Jamie had. The chopper landed on one of several helipads not far from the entrance of the building and Jamie climbed out of the passenger seat and observed the surroundings. The island was beautiful, exactly what he saw in his mind when he thought of a Caribbean island. The mansion ahead of him was very large and lavish, larger than any house he had been this close to. Outside of it were pools, chairs and tables. It looked like a hotel resort, not a home for one man.

The suited man guided them in to the main hall of the mansion - a very large, open plan room that covered the majority of the ground floor, very modern in it's style. It was mostly a lounge area, but there was a kitchen at one of the far sides of the room and a dining table at the other. There were two staircases either side of the room, both leading up to a second floor. There were also doors that led to other rooms on the ground floor, but Jamie was told to remain in this room for now.

"Mr. Vaughn will see you soon. There are others that are coming to meet him, and he wishes to address you all at once. He apologises for the delay, but invites you to take a drink at your leisure," the man nodded, directing Jamie's attention to a bar that was situated at the far side of the hall. "He thanks you for your patience."

"What is 'Mr. Vaughn' like?" Jamie asked the man, peering up at him after taking a seat on one of the many couches.

"I don't know Mr. Vaughn personally. I just do the delivery." He paused a moment and looked at his watch. "Speaking of that, I have work to do." With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Hannah and Jamie to their own devices.

((**May edit in a conversation between Hannah and Jamie here**))



Multiple suited men came and went, on each occasion brining a new group of teenagers, each group varying slightly in size. It was not the same man every time, as, naturally, it would take far too long for one person to go back and forth. The delay was probably only due to the fact that each group that arrived had taken planes at different times from different places in the US. In the end, they had all arrived on the same day.

By the time the last one had arrived it was very late and the sun had long since fell. Before any of them could get in to a big introductory speech, one of the doors on the ground floor opened and a man emerged. He was wearing a sharp suit. He did not wear sunglasses - but he was just as hard to read as any of his employees. Emotionless. He held a glass of wine in his hand as he approached the teenagers, who fell silent as they saw him approach.

"My name is Welsey," he spoke up, catching the attention of those who weren't already looking. "Wesley Vaughn. I brought you to this island." He wasn't boasting, or looking for thanks, but looking to shed more light on a situation that was probably very confusing to everyone there. "Now, I know that none of you trust me, and I know I can't earn your trust in one night, so let me start by saying that I'm not holding you here against your will. You can leave. I have several helicopters outside, all with pilots at the ready - go ahead and tell one that you want to go home, and they'll take you back to the airport and give you money for a ticket. I won't stop you. But once you leave this place, you'll never be able to find it again, not only because it's hidden, but because you'll be dead. But if you stay... you can be a part of something. You all have gifts, and you have the chance to do something good with them. I want you all to think about that."

"I'm sure you all have a lot of questions," Wesley started. "And I do promise I will answer them all, to my best ability, in due time. Right now, I'll tell you the facts: If you hadn't decided to take that plane, you'd be within their grasp by now. The only thing that stops them from finding us here is, well..." He cocked his head, smirking a little. "Let's just say... if I don't want people to find my island. They won't find my island. You're safe here. But there are countless people out there, like you and I, who aren't safe. Who are being killed and tortured. There is a whole demographic of special people that will die out if someone doesn't stop the genocide." He stopped still for a moment, and his face became much more serious. There was momentary silence. Nobody moved.

"Well," he said suddenly, breaking the silence and probably startling one or two people in the process. "I'm sure you've all had a very long couple of days," Wesley spoke casually, yet loud enough for everyone to hear him. He took a sip of wine from the glass that danced in his hands. "We don't need to rush things. We've got a lot to talk about, but... I think you should settle in first. Make yourselves at home. There are plenty of rooms in my house. Most of them are vacant. Go ahead and take one each." He let a wry smile appear on his face. He was oddly calm. It's not like a bunch of superhumans arrived at his mansion every day. "Don't get too comfy. We've got work to do, remember." He turned around and began to head for his room before pausing and turning back around for a moment. "Oh, and - by the way, you should probably get familiar with one another, if you aren't already." He turned once again and began to walk back towards his room. "You are family now, after all."

Lydia sat still as best she could. Even while Mr. Vaughn was talking she didn't ever seem to give him her full attention. It wasn't something she was trying to do purposely, she just couldn't keep her mind on a single thing at once. When he mentioned leaving she was pondering how beautiful this place was. While he mentioned the island not being able to be found she was wondering how someone could hide an island when there were satellite images not adays.

Yes quite a lot of thinking on the part of the young electrokinetic girl. When their benefactor began to leave she turned back again and listened to him mention that they were family now. Poor choice of wording perhaps as it struck home and she dropped her head against the table rather suddenly. Not bothering to sit back up she rolled her gaze back up where her chin was still on the table. Glancing around at all the faces she stopped at Fiona, the only other person she knew at this point. Letting things sit for a moment she finally spoke where the group could hear her. "I don't like him." Short but to the point.

Fed up with sitting the chair Lydia was sitting in was scooted back and the girl was on her feet. walking off she held her hands at her sides, tapping rhythmically with her fingers. Such things helped her concentrate. Though others might find it odd behavior she didn't much mind since no one knew what she was going through.

“Alright chief lets roll!”

Despite having seen the views and action from numerous surfing videos, Nathan had never been in a helicopter himself. It was very exciting, getting to put on the headset, sitting at the passenger seat and getting to see all the knobs and buttons he had to resist touching and pulling like an idiotic little kid. Plus he didn't have that drunk to deal with for the time being. So much goodness its almost hard to contain...

Then though, then he saw the mansion.

It wasn't so much the mansion, the place looked sick though, but it was the beaches around it. Right now they didn't have a lot of action to them, as it was clearly low tide right now given the time. However Nathan knew enough to see that the waves, even in their current state... oh sweet merciful God they were going to be amazing. They didn't look too impressive right now, but Nathan knew tomorrow morning he was one board waxing away from possible surfing heaven.

So if this is all some kind of trap, it could be a hell of a lot worse for him really.

As Nathan settled into the room as only a slacker could. Quickly kicking up his flip flops and hopping into what was an amazingly comfy seat. Nathan looked about the room at the others. That Sam guy who had hopefully sobered up by now was there of course, the others he wasn't as familiar with. The suppose couple from the coffee stand were there, as were a few others he saw at the luggage carousal. All in all, the phrase 'motley crew' came to mind. They were the group set to topple down the evil government and this was it?

Before Nathan could say anything to possibly help break the ice, the man of all their questions came strolling in. Looking like he taught his men well in the 'don't show any emotion ever' lesson plan. Wesley Vaughn, as he was named or just going with name wise for whatever reason. Spoke in a way that didn't really comfort Nathan's concerns about what the hell was going on. Clearly it wasn't working with any of the others as they looked like they were ready to leave or just super tired from the flight. Lord knows Nathan was, it didn't hit him until just now, what with being panicked over looking like a swelling surfer bum through the flight and all.

When Wesley finished and left it felt stuffy in the room, not really in terms of being too warm or something like that. But Nathan could tell there wasn't a lot of confidence in what was going on. Aside from the two snide comments things felt really awkward and quiet. Something Nathan had to stop and soon if his sanity is too survive this situation. “Well uh, sounds like a real party animal am I right?” Nathan said with a chuckle as he leaned back. “Like, if we're all family now, I think I know who the creepy Uncle is!”

Sighing from his own humor Nathan raised up a hand. “Yeah anyways I'm Nathan, you can call me that, Nate, all good to me you guys.” He meant it too, any name worked for him, except 'fuckface' or something like that. “So since clearly I guess we're all like super powered people we should say what we have right?”

Sam failed to recall the events leading up to entering the mansion. He had a power nap on the helicopter, and was probably losing his mind sobering up in every other instance. Nonetheless, by the time he reached the mansion, Sam was wide awake. There were others there already, whom he greeted with a simple smile and nod, not wanting to engage any of them just yet. He wasn't too sure what they would have to do, and it would be much easier for Sam to engage if he had even the slightest idea of the purpose of this congregation.

Restlessly pacing across the main floor, Sam took it all in. Dope set-up. He opted not to take a drink, refusing to make a negative first impression on his benefactor. Around him, he saw a couple others around his age: some nervous, a few even angry. Sam was a bit nervous himself, but he was accustomed to embracing that feeling rather than struggle with it.

And this must be head suit...

Wesley's words were serious, but to Sam they felt pretentious. It was almost condescending how powerful he had made himself out to be, but he probably had the resources to back it up. Sam couldn't really complain: the guy managed to deliver his letter in front of a building he had no real plan of being inside, flew him first-class to Haiti, stuck him on a helicopter, and now offered housing in a mansion sitting on his own private island.

"This fucking guy," Sam uttered under his breath.

At the end of Wesley's speech, Sam began making his way up the stairs. He could hear Nathan start on the introduction, but Sam intended on making himself comfortable before overcoming the inevitable awkwardness of introducing himself as a superhero to a bunch of other kids that were also recently considered superheroes.

He sprinted down the hall and searched for a room facing east. He enjoyed the luxury of being woken up by the sun back in both D.C. and Richmond, and that familiarity couldn't hurt in a place as alien to him as this. Whilst unpacking, Sam felt himself quickly adjusting to the situation. He couldn't change circumstance, but he could at least accept this.

Trying to calm him self down he waited out side but it wasn't helping at all. He could could hear people talking, whispering things like "Do they really have junkies just hanging out at the airport?" and "Jesus what's that guy on?" He could smell them, some of them were getting nervous by him as there were sideways glances. He growled "I could rip you all a part" he said under his breath as the more frustrated, annoyed and angry he was getting...it sounded like a better and better idea. He took a deep breath trying to calm down when he heard some one speak "Mr. Rhodes?" He heard as he turned quickly "What!" he snapped almost shouting before seeing a well dressed man. The the stoic man looked at him looking very stern, but he wasn't so good at hiding. His right hand had a the slightest tremble, and Alex could smell the fear. "I was supposed to wait for you, but it has been nearly forty minutes since you landed so I sought you out, before there is an incident" Alex looked at him "So I'm a walking Incident, is that it." Alex stepped closer before jerking forward "IS IT!" he shouted as the stoic man flinched taking a step back as he hand reached down for something on his hip. His shaking was more visible now "Sir,...Alex Please calm down" His voice wavered slightly as Alex grabbed his bag "Get me out of here before I hurt someone"

After that little encounter they were in a helicopter. Sitting in the back of it he closed his eyes, he was alone sitting in the back of it. Taking a deep breath he could smell the salt water of the ocean, mixed with some grease and oil from the helicopter. All sound was drowned out by that "thump, thump" of the blades. It was relaxing, it reminded him of when he was young. He remembered being in a car seat. His dad was driving as the pacific ocean was just barley visible outside of the the window. Black sabbath was on the radio as small arms reaching out before eye lids got heavy and he was asleep.

Soon he woke up. The helicopter had just touched down, his mind flashed to that memory, he remembered his dad telling them they did that, but didn't have any memories of it. But it was so clear in his mind like it just happened yesterday. Standing up he grabbed his bags getting down. He was calm now "Sorry, about the airport. Sometimes I just have trouble controlling my self. his voice was quite and somber now as the man looked at him "That is why you are hear."

He was the last to arrive, apparently they took longer and flew around for a bit letting him calm down some. Because of this he walked into the room only moments before there benefactor came in. Alex stayed at the back though, setting his bags down and leaning back against the wall. Watching as soon as the man was done he walked away. Some people seem angered, others confused, But Alex..he was just relived. Away from civilization it was safer here, if he lost control in a city, he could kill people. Here though, that was more limited. Watching people were leaving walking away already as he stayed leaning against the wall watching. His over active mind starting to race.

Watching them all he sniffed the air, he could smell salt water and some kind of wax, coming from the one cracking jokes. He must of been some kind of surfer or life guard. Assuming he spent a lot of time in and around the ocean.(Nathan) Another smelled like alcohol(Sam) as he shook his head, though he might of been on to something, though Alex wasn't sure how something like that would affect him. It might of made the flight easier. The girl who left(Lydia) she smelled of, Ozone? like right after a lightning strike. That was rather odd but she must of had some lightning power. Looking around there was a feint scent, he could barley detect it as he looked around the room. Narrowing his eyes he had to concentrate as he saw a red haired girl, sitting there(Emily). He didn't notice her before, His eyes were beyond 20/20 but it took a moment to bring her into focus. As soon as he looked away from her he seemed to have forgotten her, but that scent was there as it helped him remember her. He assumed that was some how her power. To be not noticed? He pushed off the wall and walked forward, He focused on her scent, getting a good impression of it, but he realized he was staring at her as he did this. Looking away quickly he still remembered her, he could still smell her. His memory had become near perfect after his powers developed. Though not photographic, sounds and scents they triggered strong memories for him, even things from when he was to young to be able to remember, like in the helicopter.

"Like it or not, this is better then the alternative. Some of us are dangerous, and out in the world we wouldn't have time to properly learn to control our abilities, some of us might even kill people. Especially since we would be on the run." He looked at them, he was calm now, when he was calm his mind was able to collect, process and evaluate facts and keep his emotions in check. As long as he was able to keep his mind on he logic side of things it would be easier to keep control as he spoke of himself more then anyone else.

Emily had never been on a helicopter before; it wasn’t something foster kids got to do. She had enjoyed it. Her stomach had done little flips, like when she rode roller coasters. The small group had been quiet though, none of them comfortable enough to chat. Emily had kept close to Alistair, both because he was someone familiar, and because she was afraid she’d disappear into the walls.

Then W.V. appeared. As he spoke, Emily could tell she wasn’t the only one uncomfortable, everyone shifted. She felt like someone was staring at her, a very unusual experience for her. Emily turned around looking to see who it was. He had looked away, just as she looked at him. He was tall, maybe 6 feet, with dark hair that could be called black. He had been staring at her, what sort of power did he have? Even Alistair had had trouble keeping her in his focus.

Mr. Vaughn stopped talking and walked off. One of the girls voiced her dislike of Mr. Vaughn, followed by Alistair voicing his disdain. Something Emily could not blame him for. Family was important; blood meant something, to most people. Emily wanted to sink into the couch and disappear, but Alistair stood up and walked away towards the stairs, and more people spoke. Emily wanted to make friends, but she worried about Alistair.

"Like it or not, this is better than the alternative. Some of us are dangerous, and out in the world we wouldn't have time to properly learn to control our abilities, some of us might even kill people. Especially since we would be on the run."
It was the guy who had been staring at her. She wasn’t dangerous and yet she was here just like the rest of them.

“Not all of us are dangerous.” Emily said to him. “I’m not.” She had no idea if anyone would notice her. Emily’s voice was shaky, too nervous, maybe that would be enough to be noticed. “I’m also not going to be killing people.” That was said with strength.

So that’s Wesley Vaughn, thought Hannah as their mysterious benefactor turned to sweep out as dramatically as he came. He’s… she floundered for a moment, Dangerous. The billionaire’s outward calm had been impenetrable, flawless, as he spoke, but inside he was anything but. The furious storm of dark, hungry emotions was tightly locked in a mental vice, but fought its chains with the force of a hurricane, threatening to spill out and infect everything it touched. That frightened Hannah. In fact it terrified her.

The fine hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck began to rise as the emotions in the room started to heat up. She didn’t need to be slightly pre-cognizant to know that Vaughn’s words were going to rub people the wrong way, but she hadn’t properly prepared herself for the strength of her new “family’s” emotions. Christ! she cursed, unable to properly focus on what was being said as wave after wave of distrust and anger hit her, soaked her skin.

Maybe their emotions are stronger than normal people? she wondered, clasping her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking with strain, Or maybe I am just more sensitive to them? Sweat broke out on her forehead and the air was so thick with she was having trouble breathing. Where was this coming from? It couldn’t be everybody affecting her this way.

Her sharp gray eyes swept the room frantically, finally landing on a head of dark hair. A young man sitting near her, covered in tattoos and piercings, was producing particularly strong waves of irritation, each one rolling off of his shoulders and hitting her hard in the gut like a bowling ball. Her mental defenses were barely able to keep him out and she could actually feel his irritation beginning to seep into her body. Not good, Hannah hissed internally, placing her hands on her stomach in an attempt to force her breathing to slow, Not good, not good, not good! Will you please just calm the fuck down?! Please?!

The young man whose long legs had already carried him halfway across the room stopped abruptly, as if an unseen weight glued his shoes to the floor. Jesus! she swore, digging her nails into the tender flesh of her knees, Calm down or leave already! His irritation was definitely beginning to sink it. Crap.

She heard the sharp hiss of air through teeth and watched as the young man’s hands clenched tightly at his sides.

I was on my fucking way out of the fucking room already. You don’t need to tell me twice.

She blinked. What was that? The thought wasn’t hers. It didn’t sound like her. It tasted strangely in her mind, foreign, but not unpleasant. It was rough, masculine, its tone thick with irritation and spiked with surprise. Funny, thought Hannah absently. The tone mirrored the emotional cloud swirling about the stranger’s retreating back.

And next time, would you kindly not deafen me, thanks?

Oh my god. Hannah’s eyes flew open as wide as they were able, shock flooding out anything else in her system. Pure adrenaline carried her tiny body across the floor, where she leapt up on a couch, tottering precariously on the arm so that she was eyelevel with the man. It was all she could do to keep from hugging the stranger. You can hear me! You can actually hear me!

Not… Not exactly the reaction I was expecting. The man turned his head briefly, but was continuing down the hall just as quickly. The knife’s edge of irritation dulled, less potent than it had been only a few seconds before. If you’re going to come, come. You’re looking like a goddamn psycho right now, and that’s coming from me. A laugh echoed in her mind, accompanied by the slight acidic bite of self-deprecation.

Electric joy sizzled in Hannah’s veins and a stupid smile threatened to split her face in two. Absolutely! she mentally cheered, jumping to the floor and scrambling for her bags. On her way there she tripped over her high heels, landing hard and bruising her hands and knees. She was only down for a second though, launching herself back to her feet to collect her things before returning to the stranger’s side, silly grin still intact. Lead the way!

She followed the young man up the stairs, taking four steps for every one of his strides. He can hear me! she whispered in her head, Oh, well you can hear me. Sorry about that, ha. It was going to be an interesting adjustment, sharing her mental space, but she was just so elated to be talking, nothing else seemed to matter. He stopped at door, on of many on a long hallway that would serve as their living quarters, and Hannah looked up into his face, eyes sparkling with interest.

Yeah, and we’ll work out why such that’s a big deal when I put my stuff down. He had two black, inexpensive bags, a backpack and a duffle bag, but when he pushed open the door he only put down one of them, using the second as a marker to hang on the handle of the one next to it.

“Least they’ve got a nice view,” he said aloud, more politely than the voice in her head had been.

Hannah was blinded by an image, her reality falling away and replaced with another. The crests of small waves caught the moonlight, glittering like fish scales or diamonds as a warm, salty breeze filled her nose and lungs. Moving up in the world, Alistair… Disgustingly opulent.

I agree nodded Hannah. The house was too much for her tastes, just too much in general. You’re name is Alistair, then? she asked, It’s a real pleasure to meet you. I’m Hannah. She tried to put as much enthusiasm as she could into her mental voice, not that it was hard. She was overflowing with warmth, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Yeah. His fingers tightened around the doorframe for a minute, but his features – including worry lines no nineteen year old should have had – smoothed out. Nice to meet you, I guess, Hannah.

She was so distracted, she didn’t notice his hand shooting out to shake her own until it was too late. NO!



Alistair was no stranger to unexpected noises – even loud ones. There was the odd person so wrapped up in their own thoughts that it was all they (and he) could hear, but those weren’t so frequent as the bone-chilling accidents, pain, anticipation of pain, terror… Hospitals were gruesome, but so was the couple who lived in the flat above him. They screamed at each other in their minds.

And out loud, too.

He never got used to it. Eyes closed in pain as if a gun had fired right next to his ear, but it was too late. If Alistair thought grieving mothers and dying crash victims were the worst possible minds he’d ever accidentally slipped into… Well, he was dead wrong. Touching Hannah’s hand alone ripped his consciousness apart at the seams and moulded into something else, warped it with a lifetime of memories. It was enough for him to understand the flashes of the past fluttering at the corners of his eyes like butterflies, or moths.

[Warm brown hands, sheathed in plastic gloves rubbed circles over his back, spreading the ointment thin, careful not to let their skin touch. “Who did this to you, cher?” asked a patient voice, laced with motherly concern. The voice was enough to calm his nerves, ease the pain in his heart. He could almost forget about the sting of the hundreds of fire-ant bites that covered his small body. He shook his head no.]

[He was standing in a crowd of young people, an orientation folder clutched in his right hand. It was hot, boiling hot, but still he was wearing long sleeves. He had to to be able to deal with the crowds. He could feel everyone’s emotions, thousands of them, the weight raging against his spine, threatening to make his skeleton collapse. He was drowning in it.]

[He was in the hospital, clutching the same brown hands from before, but now withered and grayed. He was sad, so, so, sad, the rift opening up inside him threatening to swallow him whole. He didn’t want her to go. She couldn’t go. She was the only one he had left. He listened to her breathing, labored, the sound like the tearing of metal. He wanted to help her and only knew one way. He took off his gloves.]

Alistair wrenched himself away – “Sorry, s-sorry...” – but it wasn’t enough for him to wipe away the fog, to separate their minds for any longer than three seconds. This was all his fault. What a surprise! Almost as soon as he made sense of the bleached walls of the mansion, one hand holding himself up and embedded with splinters from his white-knuckled grip on the wooden frame and the other dangling limply by his side, he was assaulted again by a dazzling array of colours, too dark to be a rainbow.

Something was tugging at him, at metaphorical shirt-tails at the very edge of his mind. It was stealing, it was leaching, and though he did certainly try to stem the flow as one would a nosebleed, it was futile. Speaking of nosebleeds… He had one. A migraine too. A backache, leftover itchiness, an overwhelming sadness that he couldn’t quite shake off and God only knew what else.

We’re not touching anymore. It should be fine. It should be fine. He slid down to his knees, spurned on by some primal instinct to curl up. Then: Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did she see?

Hannah was on the ground now and, unlike him, she wasn’t waking up.

Fuck.

He hoped she wasn’t dead. Alistair didn’t know how to hide a body.

Everything goes by uneventful when there's a sour taste in your mouth. From the end of the plane ride to getting in the helicopter, Erskine paid no mind to the environment surrounding him. Things happened and he busied himself with his own mind and that awful taste—a biting iron, like he bit too hard on his tongue. The man who'd chauffeured him, alone of all things, kept to himself for most of the trip. A few things had been uttered, but they verged on simple requests and questions he could answer with a movement of his head. The helicopter drained everything else out and Erskine was left with the subtle waves of the ocean below.

Upon landing, Erskine took one step down the terrace to look back. The thought of going home felt bland on his tongue; a fleeting thought to entertain, though nothing more. And Erskine continued down with his bag clinking along the stone steps of the mansion's tiny hangar. It didn't take long to get settled within, having been escorted until the man gave a quiet nod and flourished a hand toward many of the seats for him to take his place upon. Ignoring the sets of eyes and the faces that came with, Erskine situated himself the furthest from anyone, not having it in him to converse with whoever had already arrived. Waiting was easy, but talking after everything that happened seemed monumental. Everyone lost someone, to whatever came and went—everyone in that particular room no longer had a family to go to, but what they'd lost in comparison, didn't seem much comparatively. But, Erskine never pretended to know what went on in other people's heads when he had far too much concern himself over with his own.

The usually brash individual fell into the soft cushions of the couch with his eyes closed and his body radiating a warmth to combat the AC flowing through the likely pristine air. They never quite did open until the dramatic arrival of their host and would be mentor, or whatever he liked to call himself. A jolt ran through him at the start of another joining their group. In his slumber a few more had arrived and settled in with the others, having taken the hint and straying away from the slumbering Erskine. The sun filtered in from the bay windows, setting beneath the Caribbean water in a spectacular display. It felt weird that this man barged in as he did, now speaking a mile a minute, having caught the attention with such grandeur in his show.

Having missed half of the speech, it took awhile for Erskine to fully catch the gist of the man's message. Likely that he'd been straddled to a circus show like this, however, Erskine couldn't find it in himself to complain. Circus show or not, this literally was his last resort, having nothing to go back to in the U.S. aside from staring down the length of a barrel or waking to a circle of scientists. Of course, if circumstances were better, he'd have been more than willing to join a Kick-Ass recreation, sans Jim Carrey, just for the fact that the idea behind it was exhilarating. Unfortunately, the situation seemed far more dire than anyone in here truly knew, excluding the man who'd just given them a corralling bout of Deus Ex Machina.

After his exit, Erskine took a quick collection of the bodies within the room, frowning at the mention of powers. In a better mood, he'd jump at the offer. Unfortunately, circumstances hadn't favored Erskine and he wasn't about to share much of himself until things looked brighter than what he'd just left in Chicago. Speaking of which: Erskine scooted forward to rummage through his luggage in order to extract a packet of seeds from. Taking a plastic baggy from within one of the front pockets of the suitcase, Erskine made the walk outside in order to gather what dirt he could find within the mansion's own front gardens. Afterward, Erskine found his seat once more, still slightly secluded from the others, to examine the items he'd retrieved.

From the look of it, the bag of seeds looked like a motley crew of random plants—a pot luck of randomness. Picking one might yield a surprising turn out or an epic failure. However, Erskine could tell anyone who asked what seed was what, from the shrubs to flowers to trees. It didn't seem like much to Erskine, though the man appreciated the thought of getting what he bargained for. And, like people, there was always a plant with a personality for the occasion. This one, however, he'd let fate deal with.

Parsing through the bag with his eyes closed, Erskine let all but one seed filter through his fingers and stuffed that one inside the baggie of dirt he'd acquired. With a deep breath, Erskine cupped the bag in his hands and watched quiet as one could in his situation—awfully quiet, actually. Burrowed deep within the bag, the seed took root, spreading through the dirt in a pace hundreds of times quicker than normal. Finding the walls of the bag, the seed burst from its husk to sprout the wiry frame of a flower. A pair of fans cupped the bottom of the bulbous flower blooming at the top, a deep purple that faded into a light lavender and eventually white the deeper inside one delved.

And all Erskine could do was frown, as quiet as he ever was, at the iris in his hands.