The "training uniform" made a bit more sense than the ugly ass skin suit Cyclops was wearing. It didn't seem to be protective. No body armor or padding, just some senseless getup that looked ugly. But alas, she put it on. Walking into the jet, Ryder's mind went into overdrive to sweep across every wire and line of code in its computer. It was comically sophisticated, and to his credit, Scott seemed to know what he was doing. As the jet lifted into the sky, they were out over the sea in no time at all. Ryder's mind was rapidly tuning into and out of the jet's radar and data-gathering tools. They were moving fast, nothing was showing up as a warning to it, and there were no visible threats. 

The unfortunate thing was that Ryder's constant shifting of focus meant she didn't realize what was happening until Cyclops spoke up. The jet lurched and rolled, as streaks of energy lanced out in her peripheral vision. There wasn't much she could do, being strapped to a chair, other than wonder what was happening. Something was attacking them, that much was obvious- But [i]what?[/i]

And then the thing latched onto the jet mid-flight, with all the triviality of a bug latching onto a moving car.

The roof was shattered and all the debris curved around Ryder, as she used her powers to deflect it. She watched Cyclops rip holes into a giant metal fucking abomination that she couldn't force her way into... Her powers weren't working properly. Like an animal, she went into the mindset that got people killed. The restraints of her seat were psychically ripped apart, and a blast of telekinetic force sent her over the chair, backwards away from the Sentinel's grasp.

Cyclops and the Sentinel blasted one another, mutually assured destruction sending them both into the sea below. But at the last second, a chair that had fallen out caught Cyclops and whisked him away... All why the jet was still moving on. 

There was a moment where, in the grand scheme of things beyond any individual's understanding, Ryder strode into a crossroad. This was the moment where she was detached from all she ever came to know; Umbra was out of scope, the X-Men were an ocean away. Thee one which had the audacity to chase her down with Xavier was someone else's problem. Even the thing that attacked the two of them had come and gone in the process. There was an irony to it all, that her life had entered chapter through so much violence, only to be this fragile. Ryder had a choice to make, as her thoughts stretched out into glacial milliseconds.

She could've let this aircraft carry her along, and steer it with her powers. Ryder could go anywhere on this volatile rock and start her life anew. And she considered that, but she also considered what would come next. What effects would stem from that cause?

The X-Men were stifling, untrustworthy wolves with the same fangs as Umbra. They simply occupied a different den, and yet at least with them came the prospect of a roof. Walls, and shelter Ryder could take advantage of. A refuge, under which needles and knives were still a fact of life, albeit uncommon.

The lesser of two evils, between the only ones she ever knew.

The jet tilted in its flight, pivoting on an axis for which it was not designed. With a stiff, uneven motion, it realigned with the horizon and flew forward in the opposite direction. A quick sweep with her powers told Ryder that it was too damaged to fly for much longer under its own power. Thus, she reached into its computer, cut the engines and made it fly under [i]her[/i] power. The metal exterior groaned in displeasure at the force of her telekinesis, drowned out by the rush of wind filling the inner cabin. Ryder leaned against what was left of the cockpit, and felt out for Cyclops' mind. At this range, it wouldn't be the simplest thing- Psychic communication was her least practiced ability. But the jet was flying faster thanks to her than it could have normally, and like a blip on her own radar, he came into being when she focused hard enough.

A thunderclap of telepathy struck Cyclops. It was ice water to the face, an electric shock to the hand. Unmistakably from Ryder.

[h1][color=00ffff][I][b]"WAKE THE FUCK UP!"[/b][/i][/color][/h1]

The jet streaked over the damaged Sentinel, and came to a [i]violent[/i] stop as Cyclops went out of her range again. It seemed to be floating in the water, trying to get itself back up and into the fight. But Ryder wasn't having that. She looked out over it, and strained her mind to reach into it for something she could actually influence. It had weapons, thrusts and other things that weren't outright intelligence.

The Sentinel's chest cannon would crackle and sputter, as Ryder used her telekinesis to tear its chest wide open. Like sacrificing human beings to an ancient god, a huge chunk of circuits and machinery were pulled outwards by unseen force. Its heart torn away, Ryder turned the chest cannon around, and let it fire.

Over, and over, and over again, until it had no more power left to draw from. What remained was a smoking piled of flotsam in the vague shape of a large humanoid. [i]Trivial.[/i]

[color=00ffff]"I'm tired of having nothing. Whatever the fuck you are, you're not stopping me."[/color]

Ryder watched the husk sink beneath the waves, and curiosity drove her to float the cannon up to the jet. Glass broke as she transported to behind the seats of the jet.

And then the jet was forced onward yet again, with Ryder's trophy rattling about in the back, to find Cyclops.