"It's called being 'nice', Sarge.  Doesn't take a doctorate to figure that out."  Avis grinned.  "We've already got Doc Carson and the rest of the eggheads to do the mean part.  Can't we agents be a bit nicer to each other?"  The younger agent bent over to tie his boots before Gray expressed her intention to go to the car, taunting Avis in the process.  At this, though, Avis looked up at the woman with a smirk.  "No need for the Sullen Dad to hold this kid's hand.  In fact, Momma Bear, I'd race you there.  Be careful not to break your back."  Without a moment's notice, Avis sprinted towards the Blacksite's garage where a handful of the DMA's undercover cars were stored.  When the DMA agents wanted to blend in with society in order to get to their target, it wasn't rare for them to look like an everyday normal family.  While he wasn't really jumping on the idea of pretending to be Thorne's teenage son (again), Avis did miss the opportunity to shop for new clothes, and to wear something rather than just the DMA standard-issue uniform of black, jet black, and onyx.  But, Avis knew not to get his hopes up.  The DMA has been quite stingy with budgets, and can't really afford such luxuries.  So, the young lad bolted through the long, hallowed halls-- something that he hadn't done since childhood.  He hopped over boxes and crates of weapons, vaulted over low walls.  Purposely, he took the long way through the corridors, just wanting a bit of freedom and a remnant of a childhood long gone.

As he jumped over the obstacles, he remembered the time that he and his brother would free run all over the park, leaping over rinks, ledges, and to an extent, from tree to tree.  At that point, there father was dead, and their entire life rested in their hands.  Freedom, a spirit set free from the shackles of abuse and pain.  And, now...  his comatose brother is being watched day and night by agents of the DMA, a dirty blackmail and control method for the ocular specialist in their ranks.  They knew that death would not be enough to enmesh a soul such as Avis, and to make sure of his loyalty, they messed with a life that Avis deems greater than his own.

The DMA was dirty.  The whole lot of them.  He wouldn't have bothered catching the other metahuman rogues if his brother didn't have a Glock 15 near his head.

Thus, as Avis reached the garage, he wasn't real sure if the others had already arrived.  Chances are, they've yet to even leave the briefing room.  They were always so serious to the point that it became infuriating.  "I wonder what car we'd be using."  Avis mused to himself, surveying the different vehicles that were there  "Well, either way, I'd have no choice but to ride."  Regardless of what vehicle they'd use, Avis would just sit patiently inside like the good little boy he was known for in the DMA.

Oh, how pathetic it all was.