Throughout the heated argument, Clementine had stayed on the sideline, watching the trainwreck spiral more and more into chaos. Her brief smile had disappeared, however, when Noa decided to bring the siblings' dad into her argument with Duncan. That was her first mistake, and while her jab was meant for Duncan alone, the jab in actuality had turned into a shotgun shell, striking all three siblings at once.

Unlike Duncan and Errol, Clementine's reaction was immediate and visceral. Her heart pounded a surge of anger and hurt coursing through her veins. She could feel the heat rising within her, a dangerous reminder of her temperamental powers. The mention of her father was a deeply sensitive topic, a wound that never fully healed. Despite her father's despise and the resentment he held towards her for her mother's death, Clementine harboured a deep-seated need for his approval—a need that had driven many of her questionable actions.

Even after Noa was blasted out of the newly created hole in the armoured truck, Clementine bolted from her spot in the armoured car and went past Duncan in a flurry of red directly in Noa's direction. Whether Noa was getting up or hadn't recovered from suddenly getting slingshotted three parking spots away, Clementine stepped forward, her fiery eyes locking onto Noa with an intensity that could rival the sun. "Don't ever fucking speak about him like that again," she hissed, her voice low but seething with a fury only the sun could rival.

The thing was, it wasn't really Noa's fault, she got such a reaction from Clementine, but the multi-layered unresolved issues surrounding her relationship with her father was a topic that quickly caused untreated issues to explode into superheated anger. To make it worse, her connection to the sun only amplified her rage.

She turned away, the anger still simmering inside her but the immediate threat of her powers subsiding. Clementine knew she needed to calm down, to regain control. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the people she cared about, no matter how complicated their relationships were.

In that moment, she realized just how much her father's shadow loomed over her, shaping her reactions, her emotions, and her very sense of self. And as much as she wanted to break free from that shadow, an even stronger part of her desperately wanted her father to acknowledge her. She knew both sides were a part of her that she couldn't simply ignore or forget.

Clementine sat in Nathaniel's car in the back, crossing her arms, staring out the window deciding just to ignore everyone until she calmed down. Even Nathaniel's comment got the cold shoulder once everyone was in the car and Nathaniel's voice usually managed to get her to smile.

The humanitarian act was starting to get old. Although Errol didn't have the energy to debate with Duncan, he scoffed at his brother's words. The world already hates and fears them, why bother trying to prove them any different when mankind jumps at the chance to label them as freaks. Monsters. Other. One could only take so much unjustified hate and oppression for so long before they turn it back on their tormentors.

Duncan lived the luxurious life of being an X-Man, shielded away from the plights of mutants in that mansion. He didn't understand what it was like, to have the warmth of your own family's love turn to cold hate, to have those who you thought would always be there for you suddenly turn their back on you. To be ripped away from all you've ever known because you were born different.

If the homo sapiens believed him to be dangerous, he'd show them the true meaning of the word. Errol had no quarrel with harming those who would do the same to him given the chance. Mutants were the next step in human evolution, why should he have to bend over backwards to cater to humanity's fear. It's not his fault they're obsolete now.

*******

"Oh, shit." escaped Errol's mouth upon seeing what had just transpired between Duncan and Noa. He didn't expect this to go that far and before Errol could do or say anything else, Noa had been launched through the driver side door and out of the armored truck by Duncan's powers. "¿Qué carajo? I oughta give you a permanent stutter!" Errol exclaimed at Duncan as he shot out of his side of the car and rushed over to Noa.

"Cabrona, why'd you have to go and slap him?" Errol reached for her unexposed arm and lifted her off the ground. His attention quickly turned to face Clementine who had rushed over to Noa too, but not from concern, she too came to give Noa a piece of her mind. Seeing her defend their father with such loyalty and ferocity never failed to trigger Errol. "Back off, Clem. She was out of line but she's right. Dad's a low-life piece of shit. Why the hell are you so loyal to him?!"

Before things could escalate however, Nathaniel had arrived. Examining him, he wore a three-piece suit and despite his messy hair, still managed to look somewhat smart and presentable. What an uppity looking tool. Of course Duncan was familiar with a guy like this. After he ushered the group over to his car, Errol stayed behind for a few moments to check on Noa. "All things aside, getting knocked on your ass by Duncan is pretty embarrassing." he knew Noa was physically fine but something else was bound to be hurt "How's that Loxley pride doing?" he playfully asked, gently nudging her chin with his fist, not before erecting a small electromagnetic barrier around his fist to protect himself from Noa's skin.

Making his way over to Nathaniel's car, he watched as he ordered Noa into the front seat and raised an eyebrow as Nathaniel handed her a hoodie. Was it his? That's a little forward, right? Errol wondered if this was something Nathaniel tried with all the women. But that wouldn't work on Noa... right? Errol caught his internal thoughts, ridding himself of them with a shake of his head. She was a grown woman, she could mess with whoever she wanted to.

Nathaniel's eyes then landed on Errol, he folded his arms and eyed the man down through his black shades. A bitter "Truce?" left the lawyer's lips and Errol rolled his eyes and responded with an equally bitter "Whatever." as he entered into the backseat, foolishly placing himself in the worst seat. The middle. Once he realised, it was too late.

The lawyer entered the driver's seat muttering about redheads, Errol's temper quickly flared as he realised Nathaniel was talking about Clementine. Balling his fists tightly, small yellow sparks crackled from Errol's hands. However, they subsided when he apologised to her. Upon hearing that they were going to Jersey, Errol threw his head back and sighed "Fucking Jersey. Imitaciones baratas, de mierda y que dan mal nombre."

There was nothing he could have said to make her heed his warning at that moment, so there seemed to be only one natural conclusion to their confrontation. His rebuttal of her accusations only left her with less respect for him as his self-righteous attitude became evident yet again but it wasn’t enough to anger her. She could tolerate most of his unfiltered ramblings until he had threatened her for simply trying to protect Clem, which was evidently not up to his standards.

Despite facing off with someone known to be more powerful than herself, she showed no sign of apprehension. She didn’t display any markers of feeling threatened by him, believing him to be too sanctimonious to cause any real damage should he choose to follow through. Still, there was little she could do to defend against his oncoming attack which happened almost as quickly as she could perceive it.

With an aching groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked up at Errol standing above her. The worst of the anger had subsided from her tone and expression but she wasn’t exactly pleased with being launched across the parking lot either. She had said all that she needed to say to Duncan for the time being but no doubt another issue would crop up in due course.

“Because he’s a dick.” She muttered as she got back to her feet with Errol’s help, her gaze briefly catching Duncan’s with a glare before being drawn unwillingly to Clem who soon made her own thoughts known. After everything they had witnessed leading up to this moment, she was thankful that Errol was beside her when Clem approached. Considering she had been supposed to protect the youngest sibling, it was beginning to seem as though it was others who needed to be protected from her.

Noa wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she likely struck a chord with all of the siblings at the mention of their father, even though Duncan had intended to be the only casualty. Before she could try and diffuse the situation, Errol took upon himself the role of mediator, though he wouldn’t exactly win any peace awards for it, instead reinforcing the notion that Giovanni was a piece of shit.

Errol’s teasing earned him an unamused look from Noa but it was no more than a minor irritation compared to everything else that had just transpired. “It was less embarrassing until you said it.” She replied, gently brushing his hand away and walking past him towards the group that seemed to converge beside a secondary vehicle, continuing her answer to his question about her pride as she did. “It helps if you don’t have any to begin with.”

Her attention was quickly drawn to the newcomer, to whom she could now put a face to the voice. She couldn’t say for sure what she was expecting but he certainly didn’t seem like the type of person she and Errol associated themselves with. Perhaps they were associating themselves with the wrong people because the look certainly suited him well, at least it did until the comment he made over the phone earlier came to the forefront of her mind and suddenly he was just another of Duncan’s uppity goons.

“And who the fuck are you?” She asked rudely as she took the hoodie from him. It appeared as though he knew her somehow but frustratingly she didn’t have any idea who he was.

Even in her annoyance, she didn’t protest much. Clearly he wasn’t a total stranger, having called Duncan, so she could at least afford him a minute degree of trust for now. She pulled the hoodie over her head and pulled the hood up before taking her designated seat in the car and grabbing a pair of aviators. Sliding down into a slumped position in her seat, she dug her hands into the hoodie pocket and sat in silence now that the adrenaline had largely subsided.

After settling down into the seat, she felt something against her heel and reached under the seat to move it so that she could sulk in peace but upon finding that the offending object was a bottle of whiskey she didn't hesitate to unscrew the cap and take a swig before resuming her initial position. "Ces connards seront ma mort." She muttered to herself.

Emergency broadcasts were sent across the city. Social media platforms offered their users in the New York area the opportunity to declare that they were safe. News providers ran with footage captured by store security cameras and phone recorded videos from civilians. Commentators offered theories, explanations and speculations regarding the sudden outburst of violence in the Big Apple. Three police officers had been killed in the line of duty and four more were treated for serious injuries. At least one bystander had come in harm's way. Footage of mourning families could be seen on the largest news networks. At the centre of it all: Mutants. Activists were organizing protests, politicians condemned the violence and the government promised a forceful response. The perpetrators were to be hunted down and the mutants were to be put in line.

The journey to the location had been one liberated of chatter, instead loud country music played in the car, only once interrupted by a European song about the wish for a Pina Colada. Upon having moved past the initial few barriers of the construction site and into the tunnel connecting to the subway line, the car passed through a long stretch of mostly finished tunnel with insulation and reinforced walls before reaching the damp and dusty final destination. Without electricity to power the industrial lamps, the only source of light stemmed from the car.

At the end of the rocky, brownish-grey tunnel, stood a massive technological and metallic construction. Every surface was covered by a thick layer of dust. Small pools of water had formed on the ground. The numerous cables leading to the construction had carefully been moved to avoid the water. The construction itself was a large drill used to pave the way for an expansion of the New York City subway system in the Bergen County of New Jersey. For 43 days, it had stood idle and mostly unattended following the bankruptcy of the company heading the construction efforts. Tracks had yet to be lain but the ground had been stabilized and two yellow excavators stood in a line on the left side. On the right stood a few containers, two full and one half-filled with various pieces of equipment gathered from the site. The luxurious car - contrasting heavily against the dust filled surroundings - was parked a bit further back.

The air in the tunnel hung heavy with the scent of damp earth, rock and metal, a tangible reminder of the site's abandonment. Shadows danced across the walls, cast by the white-blue light filtering in from the car's headlights. The silence was broken by the occasional drip of water echoing through the cavernous space.

Five people had gathered by a set of four cheap, white and foldable chairs with a matching table, all located by the containers. On top of the table laid two plastic bags with various hastily purchased vegetarian or vegan foods along with a couple of water bottles, a half empty bottle of whiskey and a flask of rum.

The lawyer hovered over the plastic bags with arms firmly planted on each side of the table. His gaze rose from the food to meet the others and his hand instinctively rose to brush a few strands of hair back, then he spoke with a low voice and matter-of-factly tone "This is all we've got and I don't know for how long we'll have to stay here. I'm not going to rent a truck on my name for you lot, but that's probably the best way to get out of the city once the worst of this shitstorm you've created has blown past. For now, I suggest that we wait - and if you think you'll ever have to rely on each other again, I suggest that you start taking that into consideration before you do or say anything further."

After throwing an eye towards his car, he continued "I'm only going to keep her running for a little bit longer, until then, we should find a good light source and a way to keep warm. Maybe this mutant affliction can finally be put to good, non-violent, use for a change."

Duncan had followed the news on the cracked screen of his phone until he'd lost connection in the tunnel. While he was quite grateful for Nathaniel's planned refuge, he didn't like the place one bit. It had one way in and only one way out. That, and the darkness was a severe obstacle for his mutation to overcome.

"Careful with that though." Duncan said. "I've heard of enough car engines who have gotten the better of people." He'd seen the reports before. Desperate people who had seen their garage as a good final destination. "Unless you drive electric?" he glanced back, brow furrowed.

Duncan strolled over to the containers on the side, squinting to try and identify the equipment in the darkness. There were some things he recognized, most notably a set of construction lamps that looked like they had seen better days. With some difficulty, Duncan freed them from the cluttered objects. "Can you get these working Errol?" He called out as he studied them. "I think they've got batteries at least." That would solve their most pressing issue.

As for a way to keep warm, that was their next big challenge. "Clementine-" He hated having to ask her. He didn't trust her to use her abilities properly. While what happened was Noa's fault, she'd been right about one thing. Clementine was extremely unpredictable. "Can you produce some sort of heat? Try to heat up the food or something." He'd seen the deluxe package of sausages among the food, and knew from experience that you couldn't really mess up that type of meat substitute.

Clementine had decided just to ignore everyone as she with crossed arms, stared out into the street, watching the surroundings pass by. The drive was boring, she had just lost everything she owed at her home thanks to now getting hunted by not only the government but some off-brand Power Ranger soldiers who hate them.
The thoughts of those clad-in-black soldiers that attacked them caused Clementine to think back to what she did to one of them... She slowly opened her hand, feeling the skin in her palms buzzing as if it were hypersensitive and yet, nothing happened. Clementine glanced at her brothers to the left of her, were they angry with her? Did her powers scare them? Clementine didn't even know what she was capable of...

Unlike her brothers, she never really experimented much or got in situations where she was forced, unlike today. Clementine had always seen her brother Errol's powers as insanely cool and how he was able to just move with such freedom. Out of her two brothers, Errol was by far the most explosive of the two, but her eldest brother Duncan seemed to be the most precise, then again, Clementine never got the chance to see her oldest brother's powers in action when they met for their monthly one-day "meet-n-greet"... well that's not quite true, she sometimes saw Duncan 5-7 times over a month when he had to bail her out. That was a rough month and she felt a bit bad for putting her oldest brother in that situation, but then again, who could blame a teenager with money and no true parental control?

Clementine had begun to zone out in the car, not really paying attention to everyone else as her mind kept reliving the moment she burned that woman's hands off her bones. The gruelling and animalistic scream still rang in her mind, the smell of burned meat and flesh as melted pieces kept sliding off the woman's fingers until only charred bones remained stopped by third-degree burned wrists.
Even as they arrived, Clementine kept herself at a distance completely shut off mentally and still completely zoned out by those memories spiralling more and more out of control, until she heard her name.

She snapped out of her inner thoughts, pulled back to the present time and raised her piercing eyes from her hands to Duncan showing the raging inner turmoil through her eyes as the iris' had a slight glow. "Hm?"
It took her a second or two to process what her brother had asked her. "Yeah sure, whatever" was her slightly nonchalant response and the intensity and glow in her eyes had disappeared and turned back to their normal calm pale blue. It was very obvious that she hid her inner thoughts and turmoil she had behind typical teenage indifference, pushing her inner chaos far back in her mind.

The red-haired girl went over to the sausages and then looked around the place and found an empty industrial barrel, which made her think back to those homeless people under highways she randomly stumbled upon while running from the police. Now they just needed something flammable, like wood or other highly flammable material.

As such, she removed her oversized and now, very ruined coat and placed it into the barrel and in an instant the barrel lit up like a Christmas tree. Unlike most people, even mutants, Clementine couldn't get cold, or hot for that matter, at least not in the same sense as a normal person would. "There, though you might need to find something more if you want me to keep the fire alive" explained Clementine matter-of-factly and put her hands in her pockets, not moving from her spot by the barrel. In fact, she rather wanted to be anywhere else than here and instantly thought about go exploring, so she could be alone with her thoughts.

This was demeaning, hiding away like a rat in the gutter. They were all wanted fugitives for a fight they didn't start, despite certainly finishing it. Errol sat at one of the chairs, resting his arms and head on top of the table bored out of his mind. Ignoring what Nathaniel had to say, as he didn't need traditional food sources for sustenance. The only reason he actually consumed food was for the taste alone, and nothing on this table appealed to him unfortunately.

Errol wasn't used to quiet places like this, the lack of electricity he could feel around him was always an uncomfortable feeling. Whenever he was in the dense concrete jungle of New York, he could feel the buzz of it all around him - ranging from phones, power lines, electric cars and much more. Here, it was quiet. There were some electricly powered devices and equipment around him, but compared to where they had just all been - it was a quiet hum in comparison.

Lifting his head from the table, he responded with a simple "I'm good." before laying back down.

Errol shook his head upon hearing the mention of 'cars' by both Nathaniel and Duncan - thoughts dwelling on his pride and joy, now reduced to pieces thanks to the handiwork of their attackers. An unknowing sigh escaped his lips as he stopped pining over his lost car. He lifted his head up again, focusing his attention on his older brother who had pulled out some construction lamps from one of the containers.

"That all I'm good for now? A glorified electrician?"

Errol's natural reserves had replenished at this point following the fight, the mutant had more than enough juice to start up these lamps. Getting up from his seat, he approached to where Duncan had left the lamps. Looking at them grouped together, Errol aimed his index finger and shot out a small yellow torrent of electricity, chaining it between the objects.

"And let there be light." he stated, clasping his hands together as the tunnel illuminated with light.

As well as this, the light from the fire Clem had created added some additional light too. She still didn't seem okay after the whole ordeal back in the city. However, if she was anything like him - he knew she would want time to herself right now.

Curiosity turned to surprise: Nathaniel had clearly not considered the point Duncan was making. He took a quick glance from one wall to the ceiling up high and then to the wall on the other side. Before he had a chance to comment, however, the follow-up question hit him like a truck. Nathaniel, flabbergasted and gravely insulted looked to the man "El- electric?! I may be a little prim and proper but I'm no pantsy ass European. This-..." he cut himself off, catching himself getting a little too invested in the rebuke. With a methodical sigh, he recomposed himself and softened his tone "Look, this is a Bentley Flying Spur. It has an eight-speed dual-clutch automatic transmission, all-wheel drive and a 626-hp W-12 engine. It goes to sixty in three seconds - four tops. This is an American beauty. Hit me up on a sunnier day and I'll let you take the wheel."

With a quick glance, the lawyer eyed the others before raising his palms disarmingly and letting out an awkward "Sorry, go on."

Apparently lacking the intent to do anything himself, Nathaniel looked on as the others went to work. Curiously, he observed Clementine as her eyes shifted from a fiery storm and their normal blues. Then Errol as he kicked the industrial lamps to life. He offered the two of them an approving nod before returning to the car to quickly check on the French girl and then to shut it off. Soon, the door slammed shut once more and the cave that had once been filled by the low but powerful rumble of the car fell silent.

The lawyer moved towards Clementine with a smile "Careful about that. I've doubble checked the inventory of this place personally. If anything in here breaks, I'll expect market value compensation." While his tone might have been light and easy-going, the words most certainly carried no sarcasm. He flicked his head to the side to get a strand of hair out of his face as he approached. The movement was imprinted in his muscle memory and went without thinking.

Once there, he lined up next to the girl, putting his hands in his pockets. He looked to her with a degree of compassion and warmth that could only stem from experience "Clementine, I've seen that look before. In other clients. How are you holding up?"

Duncan nodded. "Right, something to keep the fire going." Anything flammable that wasn't fuel was preferable. Not just because of the volatility of the stuff, but the smell that would linger here. He wondered if the ventilation was working at all, or if this was truly a death trap when it came to the oxygen availability.

Either way, he much preferred to be outside right now. "Ill go look for something we can burn." He muttered, grabbing his briefcase and making his way to the broken sign that was supposed to indicate an emergency exit. He didn't expect anyone to join him - the way most of the group thought of him it was a wonder they had come here with him at all.

The emergency exit led to a safety gallery. A smaller tunnel parallel to the main tunnel where, unfortunately, the lights weren't working either. The tunnel stretched further than the construction area they resided in, although the darkness made it hard to discern how far it went. Duncan stared in the distance for a moment, then went the other way. To what he presumed was leading outside.

Halfway through the tunnel, he found a spot where light seeped in through cracks in the low ceiling. There, he stopped to open his briefcase. Inside were mundane items, save for a laptop and a smooth white case the size of an Ipad. The case displayed 5 softly glowing bars of light on the side. Two red, three green. He studied it for a moment, then let out a sigh of a relief. The thing was still intact, it seemed.

Gently, he placed his hand on the flat surface of the case. A soft red light emanated from his hand, then a sharp click followed. The case slid open. "Please be there. Be there." He mumbled to himself.

Clementine’s eyes flickered from the dancing flames to Nathaniel, her expression hardening slightly as she tried to mask her inner turmoil. She noted the concern in his eyes, starkly contrasting the detachment she often felt from those around her.

“Yeah, well,” she began, her voice tinged with an edge that betrayed her attempt to sound nonchalant.

“I’m fine.”

She lifted her chin just a fraction, a subtle sign of defiance that only someone who knew her well would catch. Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was an underlying tension in her stance, the way she clenched her fists and avoided meeting his gaze directly. Nathaniel’s perceptive eyes wouldn't miss the telltale signs. He had seen Clementine enough times to recognize when she was lying. He would quickly be able to tell there was more beneath her façade or that she held back. One of the perks of having to defend Clementine multiple times and wrestle the truth out of her stubborn personality.

“I'm fine," Clementine repeated, her voice firmer now, trying to reinforce her first 'I'm fine' as she focused on the fire. “Why wouldn't I be fine?!” she asked accusatorially, but it was more directed at herself, than Nathaniel really. There was a spark of force to her voice and the flames in the barrel reacted to her tone for a second.

She glanced briefly at Nathaniel, a flicker of something almost vulnerable in her eyes before she quickly masked it with a dismissive shrug. “So yeah, fine.” Her final 'fine' seemed to have solidified her mask to hide the truth.

She turned her attention back to the fire, feeling its warmth against her skin but struggling to find the same comfort within herself. The concern from Nathaniel was a fleeting balm, but it was a reminder that even amidst her struggles, there were moments of unexpected support and she never knew how to handle it. As she stared into the flames, Clementine's thoughts churned. Her mind kept replaying the moment she had burned the soldier's hands, the agonizing scream, and the smell of charred flesh. Part of her recoiled in horror, repulsed by the brutality and the pain she had inflicted. She knew it was wrong—she knew it deep down, beyond the adrenaline and the chaos of the moment.

Yet, buried beneath the horror was an unsettling, twisted sense of satisfaction. It was a dark, primal part of her that had found a disturbing thrill in the power she had unleashed. It was that flicker of satisfaction that frightened her the most. It gnawed at her conscience, a sinister whisper that maybe, just maybe, she had enjoyed it more than she wanted to admit.

"Have you ever..." Clementine paused said, her voice quieter now, tinged with a conflicted edge. "Have you ever felt a pull... wanting to do bad things... to bad people?" The last bit 'to bad people' almost sounded like an addition to protect herself from sounding sick or crazy.

She paused again, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames, struggling with the dark satisfaction she felt. It’s hard to ignore the fact that there was something... almost satisfying about seeing her own flames consume things. And that scared her. After her long pause, she looked up at Nathaniel again, the flame from the barrow, dancing in her pale blue eyes as she wanted to say something... but didn't.

Clementine’s expression hardened again, a mask of teenage defiance slipping back into place. “Anyway, thanks for asking,” she added, though her voice was now a bit more distant. With that, she turned her focus back to the fire, using its light to shield the turmoil she felt from view. The warmth was there, but it did little to comfort the storm inside her.

Now that his job was done, Errol was left with nothing to do once more. The mutant stuck his hands in his pants' pockets and directed his gaze at Nathaniel, slightly jerking his head upward in acknowledgement of the lawyer's nod. Then he watched as he approached Clem, Errol opted to back off - while feeling protective of her, he believed it best to give his sister some space to sort her head out. However, Errol had trouble erasing today's events from his mind.

His baby sister had just murdered someone - Errol was privy to violence and death himself but, after wanting to keep her away from a lifestyle like his for so long. Seeing what had transpired... he felt like he needed to talk about it. He was worried how it was affecting her. Morale was shot to shit, Clem's traumatised, Noa's going through her own shit, and Nathaniel... well, Errol'd rather talk to Duncan than Nathaniel.

As if right on time, Errol caught wind of his older brother leaving the area - to look for more things to burn. Or so he says. An inquisitive look formed on his features and he started to follow Duncan. Passing the broken sign that was indicative of the emergency exit, he found himself inside the same safety gallery. Noticing the lights weren't working, Errol worked his magic lowering his shades and shooting a small stream of electricity from his eyes at one of the circuits. The light was dim from the damaged picture light.

Following that, Errol continued after Duncan through the now more illuminated tunnel and made out the figure of his slightly broader sibling. He looked deep in thought, barely reacting to his presence and focused on his brieface. Drawing nearer, Errol could hear Duncan mutter something to himself. It seemed to be related to the contents of his briefcase.

"Please what be there?" Errol parroted inquisitively. Standing over to the right side of Duncan, Errol glanced down at him. A moment of silence would pass before the middle-sibling continued "We need to talk about Clem. She just-- she--" Errol pinched the bridge of his nose as he struggled to find the words. "She's not okay. This is fucking with her." in truth, he didn't know what needed to be discussed or how they could even solve this but she was their sister. That desire to keep her safe and protected was an impossible feeling to shake. There was no way he could fix this, fix Clem's problem, but every cell in his body told him he had to.

Dropping the topic as abruptly as he brought it up, Errol growled in exasperation "Por el amor de Dios, Duncan! Why the hell were those U-Men fuckers even after you? The hell you do to get on their radar?!" he exclaimed in an accusatory tone. His frustration from today's events boiling to the surface and coming to a head - he needed someone to blame for all of this, to be mad at. Duncan was always the subject of Errol's ire, it was almost like a reflex to point the finger at the man who's caused so much trouble for him all his life.

His eyes lingered on the girl as she built her first layer of defence. Distant hints of pity could be gleaned from his gaze as she desperately tried to take control and be the one to define reality. The gaze would flicker, however, as the first brother stepped into one of the side tunnels. A subtle but approving nod could be seen. With the French girl sleeping and the utter fool of a mutant in the grand construction site with them, the risk for conflict could likely be managed for as long as Nathaniel could keep himself in check. His attention returned to Clem.

"Yes" the answer was blunt and so was the gaze with which he looked to her. There was no hint of confrontation, but rather an unapologetic honesty that was on display. "Clementine, there are plenty of bad people around. People who deserve repercussions." He paused to allow the words to settle - allowing the excuse she was building for herself to solidify, just for a moment, just to show that he understood. Then came the follow-up "But it's not for me to decide, who deserves to suffer and who deserves to live... or die. What if I'm biased, or if I lack information? Maybe I don't see the entire picture." Nathaniel shook his head in a simple 'no'

So far, he had not distanced himself from her or talked to her differently from how he had in the past. And that would persist as he continued "You killed someone." Another pause.

"You killed them in self defence, Clementine. It was not because you wanted justice or revenge; it was fear." He placed a hand on her shoulder "You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't. You're not a bad person, this does not change who you are, okay?"

Their heart-to-heart was interrupted by a distant scream. Spanish. Nathaniel's brows furrowed as he let out a sharp breath "The imbecile" he whispered. Removing his hand from her shoulder, Nathaniel took half a step towards the door. Looking to the girl he asked "Do we need to do something about that? There's been plenty of stupid coming out of that one for the brief time I've had the misfortune of being in his presence. I don't want another shitstorm while we're hiding out down here."

The sleek white box revealed three thin vials embedded in the casing. They emanated with a soft blue hue that captured his eye. They hadn't even been revealed to the world yet, and already they rained problems down upon him. That single discovery now felt like opening Pandora's box. There was no way back now that 'evil' had been released into the world.

Instinctively, Duncan sought out red when he heard another's voice. When it dawned on him that it was Errol, Duncan relaxed a little. But only a little. "I-" he sputtered "this is-" Errol didn't catch on. He had something else on his mind entirely. Clementine. Their walking, talking, nuclear bomb.

He straightened. "Of course this is. She's going to be playing that moment in her head every night from now on. Accident or not, she messed up." He softened, and with pained look said "we messed up." Whatever animosity there was between them, Duncan had always been sure of one thing. Errol would, in his own way, look after Clementine. Make sure she was okay, no matter the cost. That understanding was mutual. It was perhaps the only reason why they tolerated each other's presence.

His own conscience held him back from raising his own voice. Errol was right this time. This? This was on him. Entirely.

"I've got something that they want. Something invaluable that I cannot give up no matter what." He clicked the white case shut. "Everything hinges on us showing that we got there first." He held the case up. "Us, Errol. Mutants." He hoped that would convince Errol not to dig deeper. Yet when had he last been right about his half-brother?

Hearing Nathaniel’s calm yet unapologetic voice, Clementine felt an odd familiarity settle over her. It reminded her of the precincts—of times she'd been hauled in for minor offences. Not violent, not enough to land her in any real trouble, but bad enough for her to feel the weight of it. Her lawyer always managed to smooth things over, cutting her free before the situation could spiral beyond her control. Back then, she'd often smirk as she walked out, the cocky grin of someone who knew how to play the game and win.

Now? There was no smirk, no cocky grin. There was just the weight of Nathaniel’s words hanging in the air like an anchor. It made sense—of course, it did. Nathaniel had a way of making things sound simple and logical, stripping away the chaos with a few blunt words. It’s not for me to decide. It’s not for you either. That part gnawed at her, though. Even if she pushed it away, buried it beneath layers of self-preservation and denial, it was still there. Some dark, twisted corner of her brain whispered back, What if it should be?

Clementine’s jaw tightened slightly as the thought surfaced, her teeth grinding together. She forced her focus elsewhere—on Nathaniel’s hand on her shoulder, the solid weight of his reassurance. “You’re not a bad person.” She wished she could believe him. She wanted to believe him. But when she closed her eyes, all she could hear was that woman’s guttural, agonizing scream. The acrid stench of scorched flesh still clung to her like an invisible brand, burning itself deeper into her memory. She had done that. She had caused that pain. Self-defence or not, the truth was uglier than she wanted to face.

Her gaze flickered up to Nathaniel again, watching him as he shifted his attention toward the tunnel where her brothers had disappeared. Could he really believe that nothing had changed? That she hadn’t changed? Clementine wasn’t so sure. She felt different—something darker, something fractured. It was like a crack running through her core, spreading just a little bit wider every time she let herself think about it.

And yet… beneath the guilt and fear, there was something else. Something she was even more ashamed of—a flicker of hope. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides as a thought slithered its way into her mind. I killed someone. She could almost hear her father’s voice in her head, measuring, calculating. Would this be enough? Enough to prove herself to him? Maybe now—after this—he would see her differently. Maybe now he would call. Maybe now I’ve done something right. The hope was faint but stubborn, like a spark refusing to die in the cold. It almost hurt to feel it.

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, faint and brittle, as the possibility warmed her for just a second. But before she could hold onto it, Nathaniel’s voice pulled her back to reality, cutting through the haze of her thoughts like a knife.

“Hm?” Her head snapped up, her pale blue eyes meeting his for a moment before following his line of sight. “Oh. That?” She blinked, forcing herself to sound more grounded, more casual. “Usually, Duncan figures out a solution, and Errol…” She shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she tried to lighten her own mood. “Well, Errol either goes along with it or does the exact opposite—depends on the wind, I guess. You never really know with my brothers.”

She looked back at the fire as her voice trailed off, her expression faltering for just a second before she pulled herself together. The smirk faded, replaced by something more guarded. Clementine wrapped her arms loosely around herself, feeling the heat of the flames kiss her skin as if to remind her she was still here—still alive. Nathaniel’s concern had been a fleeting comfort, like a warm blanket she didn’t quite know how to accept. And yet, she couldn’t deny that it helped, even if she wasn’t ready to say it aloud.

For now, she settled for the fire. Its flickering light danced across her face, reflecting in her eyes like little burning secrets. And as she stared into it, she held onto Nathaniel’s words, repeating them silently in her head like a mantra she wasn’t sure she believed.

You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not a bad person.

"We messed up" struck Errol like a lethal blow. Biting his lower lip, he shifted his head, positioning it toward the floor and averting his gaze. That old saying "the truth hurts" was all to relevant right now. As Clem's older brothers, it was their duty to protect her and they'd failed. The weight of Duncan's statement would hang between the pair before, thankfully, the eldest Corleone child finally broke the silence - moving on the conversation to immediate matters.

Duncan was coy, as always, about the contents of the briefcase and why the "U-Men" were after them. The Mutant leaned back against the wall behind him, folding his arms as he listened to Duncan's non-answer.

Errol raised an eyebrow, unsatisfied "Are you serious, Duncan?" he kicked off the wall and took a few steps closer "You understand you've given me nothing here, right? We were attacked, we fought in the street, I caught a body, Clem caught a body. All of this because of the U-Men being after you."

Throwing his hands in the air, he exhaled a frustrated sigh before turning to head back to the others. This was unbelievable. Now was not the time to be choose-y with his information, especially with how high the stakes were right now. Before fully exiting the tunnel, he stopped and turned to look over his shoulder.

"You owe us a real answer, hermano."

With that, Errol left Duncan and finally returned to the others. Taking note of Noa, he left her to her devices, not wanting to bother her yet. Spotting Clem, who seemed to be in her own world, he noticed that while she wasn't completely back to normal - her spirits seemed to be lightened a little at least. Whether that was thanks to Prep Boy or not, he wasn't sure.

Settling in next to Clementine, he nudged her with his shoulder and offered her a weak smile Hey Tangerine, you good?" stupid question, but he had to break the silence somehow. Errol took a few seconds before following up, his smile grew as he thought of what to say next Tried to help Duncan remove his head from his ass but..." Errol shrugged dramatically Think he's a lost cause.