"He will come back. He wants us for that damned hero program he was speaking of, he's not just going to keep us locked in here to starve..." She patted her stomach absentmindedly, grimacing now as her knuckles began to throb. She did not think she had fractured anything, but she could feel the bruise begin to form and a light patch of blood blossom at her knuckle. She ignored the pain momentarily, listening to Quinn's explanation to this power. "Papa...papa would know something about this..." She mumbled to herself. "Replication...you are right. That would have to do with increased cell replication. So quickly that it could form another human being. But...that is incredibly difficult to create a human so quickly. I imagine it is painful and there are several opportunities for their to be a DNA complication. I would not be surprised if some of his clones possessed some form of cancer from this, or if his DNA is...uh...fucked up to say the least. But...my guess is the clones rely on the original. I do not know if the cells can survive on their own. It is very possible, but I have said before, if he is creating those cells so quickly, it is no doubt that he or the clones could be unstable. My best guess is...defeat the original. So...we just need to figure out which asshole is the true asshole." She tried to deduct the pieces in her head and see if they made sense. Then...she recalled something horrific, something that brought bile to her tongue.
"I killed one of the copies. He didn't bleed. In fact...he pretty much vanished after I shot him. If this is the case, these might just be empty shells controlled by the original. Which...which helps. If we can find the goddamn man before his clones out number us." She grimaced. This reminded her of those awful movies Jonah would make her watch with him. Clones, being trapped in a room with no escape...She swallowed nervously. She did not realize how much she missed the comfort of her home and blankets until now.
"Quinn, when he opens that door there is a very good possibility we can get our powers back. If that's so...we can overpower him and throw him in. Or if he's a copy we can get rid of him. Just...just stay behind me okay? At least until the coast is..."
Tapping. Louder banging against the wall. Jennifer's brow furrowed in concern and whatever focus that was spent on escaping was redirected towards her querido. Laughing and then... Jennifer clamped her hands over her ears instinctively as he yelled, a behavior that Jennifer had never seen before.
At least not until Neil hurt him. Jennifer could never forget that scream...his eyes locked tight as if the world before him was to hurt him...She shuddered and placed her hands over her shoulders, breathing out steadily. "Meu anjo! Be still...it is alright...it is alright..." She began smoothly, stationing herself behind him by a single foot. She knelt, uncertain and fearful.
Quinn Bonnibel Kimberly | Location: Nullification Chamber | Interactions: Jen & Leo
Quinn listened to Jen's external thoughts with about half of her attention, give or take. Mostly take...definitely take. By this point, she had given up on contributing to the situation at hand and decided that her rightful place belonged in the follower position. She would do whatever Jen said and keep it moving until she was back in Nat's arms. She flashed the brunette a lazy thumbs up.
"Sounds like a plan, captain." With that said, her head met the wall (not violently for once) as she sighed, pure mental and emotional exhaustion washing over her. She watched Jen approach Leo lazily, having already given up on what in the hell was going on with Brazilian man. She assumed it had something to do with the room they were in, so he would likely be back to normal once they were freed...Hopefully.
Whatever it was about the wall that had Leo so transfixed was finally gone. He seized up at the sound of Jen's voice, pivoting his torso to blink back at her innocently, very little recognition in his eyes. Well, as far as Quinn could tell from her lonely corner. It didn't seem like he comprehended her identity, which the blonde assumed would really suck for Jen. The pair were obviously close but, in this moment, there was some sort of disconnect.
Heaving a soft huff, Leo flopped onto his back and peer up at Jen, straining a little towards the top rim of his eyes to get a decent glimpse of her. His feet swung side to side by the back of the heels, almost casually and in utter peace. He blinked at Jennifer again before exclaiming at a loud volume, "Anjo! No!" A stern quality suddenly infected the random English escaping him. "No anjo!" He jammed a thumb rather harshly into his chest and repeated, "No anjo! Burro anjo..."
Jennifer found some hopelessness nipping at her as Quinn appeared to be in and out of focus with her. She supposed she could not blame the poor girl for such a thing, she was suffering and in a form of shock, but Jennifer knew very well that she would need as much manpower behind her in order to break free of her bondage. She would not allow for them to remain in here long, as least...not if she truly had anything to fight about it. Jennifer decided to leave the poor woman at her leisure (if one could call containment such a thing) her eyes remaining glued upon her querido. Something was truly not right with her friend, and she wished to fix it. She was not entirely certain as to what was going on within his head, and she feared the worse.
She slowly slid to sit, legs cross and her arms pressed against her stomach as she leaned over, inspecting him. The problem was that Jennifer could detect no physical ailments. He was healthy. Color was appropriate in his cheeks, his eyes, while absentminded, where not dialed. He did not seem to be experiencing pain from he trauma he had endured before, and as far as Jennifer could tell...he should be fine. She detected no shock from him, no, Leo was rather free and tranquil. In a worst case scenario, Jennifer could go to him...unless the injuries upon the two of them were severe, which as she recalled, was an extreme rarity.
He was healthy. Jennifer swallowed anxiously as he laid down, his gaze still caught upon her until she called him her angel. The reaction surprised her as he began to ram his thumb into his chest, exclaiming "No anjo!" This reaction began to rip at Jennifer's heart, for he very well knew that he meant the world to her and was truly an angel figure towards her.
"Burro?" She inquired uncertainly before shaking her head, keeping her hands in her lap as she claimed. "I...no. Meu anjo." She did not understand his inability to speak English, besides for no. What could have caused this within him? Surely, it could not have been the chamber? She recollected that owl's correlated with wisdom...
Shaking the thought from her head, she slowly managed, praying to get everything spoken correctly.
"Você...Você é meu anjo. (You are my angel)." She swallowed nervously, reaching a hand towards him. "What is causing you this, meu querido?" She internally created a promise to wring the man's neck over and over again, even if that meant going through twenty copies of him. What he had done to her Leo was unforgivable.
"Oh honty, nooo. You know yellow clashes with my hips!"
"I really hate that I know that..."
The woman chucked the briefs into a growing pile of clothing that failed to pass Carter's tastes. She should've known that her flamboyant friend would ring her up sooner or later for a surprise shopping spree. She was weak when it came to Carter's persuasion and hushed whining on the phone, let alone to her own sympathy for him. He was her friend and, in turn, one of few that knew of his sexuality. Thus explaining why he had dragged her down to Old Navy while pretending to be a couple, her fulfilling the role of a girlfriend helping their helpless, "fashion-challenged" boyfriend.
Dear lord...If only they knew.
"Carter, babe?" she started with a saccharine and sarcastic hitch in her voice. She stretched a pair of baby blue men's undies between her fingers, grinning over the waistband. "When the hell are you gonna let me go--"
"Haley! Nu-uh!" Carter interrupted with a swish of the finger, as if the appendage was Fairy Godmother's wand. "Don't you bat me with them bitter ass eyelashes. I need this. We're gonna walk out of here with a complete set to fit my cute ass and no sooner than that."
"Oh come ooooon," Haley whined. Unfortunately, the act backfired on her as she accidentally bonked her head against the wall of the changing stall...The girl gave up on waiting outside. He was vehement on her coming in, claiming that it would, in his words, "make them hetero vibes pop".
The crazy part of it all? He wasn't even changing into them. Just making Haley pick up a pair of briefs every five minutes for him to examine with a critical, fabulous eye. As much as Haley adored Carter, sometimes she didn't understand him.
"Fine, fine..." Haley grumbled while massaging her poor head.
"D'awww, my poor wittle Haywey hurt her wittle head," Carter cooed while planting a kiss atop Haley's head, which the blonde didn't fight. All she did was roll her eyes; besides, she knew deep down that her best friend was a softie and genuinely worried that she had developed a bump there. Carter retracted from her and flicked his wrist, weight balanced on one hip as he instinctively bounced. Probably music in his head. "Next."
"Yes, my Overlord!" Haley exclaimed in a horrible Medieval impression while holding up the next pair of briefs. These were a solid purple and seemed to be on the athletic side design-wise. It somewhat veered away from what Carter was used to, but pertaining to what he was looking for tonight...
"Sold. I'm getting that and the others in blue and pink." He seized the briefs to stand in front of the mirror and hold it against his pelvis, hips shimmying saucily. "Yaaas honty! These'll work perfect~"
Haley poked her head over Carter's shoulder, looking quite comfortable there. "You sure?" Her brow furrowed. It really wasn't his type at all. "Didn't think you'd be into the bold and solid type..."
For the briefest moment, Carter's fruity confidence faltered and a softness overcame his voice. "I might need all the boldness I can get." As soon as Haley noticed his expression, understanding seeped into her, staining her bones an anxious yellow. Anxious for her friend. Anxious for the apparent decision he had finally came to.
"Wait...tonight?"
Carter inhaled shakily and nodded. "Tonight"
"Oh sweetheart..." Haley turned Carter around, gently brushing the bangs out of his eyes before cradling his face. Her brown gaze glimmered with support, care and, ultimately, pride. "Everything's gonna be okay. You'll see...And always know that you've got my place to crash. Just in case, alright?"
Eyes glistening and a smile pulling at his lips, Carter nodded gratefully before pulling her into a tight embrace. "Thanks honty," he whispered into her shoulder. A shudder traveled down his spine. "Th-thank you..."
---
Yamanashi Household
Mr. Yamanashi entered the den with practiced precision and collected steps. Turning at exact right angles as he rounded the corner of furniture, setting the tray of down on the table, their edges perfectly parallel and aligned, and three cups set up in a rectangle with the steaming kettle. It was all perfect. Clinical. Lifeless.
"Drink, my son."
Carter fucking hated it.
Nonetheless, he nodded, features tight and cold, and sipped with a grace branded into his senses. It burned him, spiritually. He allowed himself to keep the rim pressed to his lips for an extra moment, taking advantage of that time to dip his nerves in steel. This was it. Mr. and Mrs. Yamanashi. His biological and financial caretakers sitting before him. One astute and indifferent, the other tame and deceptively serene.
Damned robots. Both of them.
Mr. Yamanashi was the first to lower his cup with a satisfied sign and place it upon the coaster. Mrs. Yamanashi soon followed, mimicking his actions with a softer touch. The man adjusted his glasses before addressing Carter flatly, "What is it that you wish to talk about?"
It was time. He could no longer stall. Sighing, Carter lowered his tea and politely rested both hands on his thighs palm-down. He hated sitting like this. He'd rather lean back in a computer chair with his legs crossed, the tip of his leading toe twirling about casually...Carter forced his eyes to lock with Mr. Yamanashi.
"I have something that I must tell you. Both of you." An acrid burning was already starting to build in his nostrils, inspiring a similar searing behind his eyes. A faint tremor filled his hands. Mrs. Yamanashi was prepared to urge him to continue, but she then reeled into herself as her husband jumped in.
"Then tell us. I have to turn in soon for work in the morning. You know this."
Carter restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Yes, he knew this very well, especially since the man talked about his job 24/7. Always on the move. Always glancing at his watch while adjusting his glasses in that classic asshole fashion. Never home. Never around to hear Mrs. Yamanashi's tender sobs from the kitchen when bouts of loneliness struck her hard. Carter was cursed to know.
"Yessir. I apologize. I, well..." The shaking grew stronger. His vision dropped to the hardwood below him. "There is something about myself that I have known for a long time, but I have failed to inform you. I...I'm..."
"Wait"
Carter choked on his fear and fell silent.
Risking a glance up, Carter was confused to see Mr. Yamanashi stand up and retrieve what appeared to be a letter, already ripped open. He slid it across the table to Carter, who picked it up slowly. Skeptically. "What is this?" he asked. However, as soon as saw the address which had sent it, oxygen escaped him for an entirely different reason. This...This was from--
"WPPD," Mr. Yamanashi said. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "They have finally delivered the results, my son. It seems that--"
"I got in..." Carter whispered, his eyes wide and jaw literally glued to the floor. The widest smile he had worn in ages started splitting his cheeks. "I got in!"
Mr. Yamanashi grimaced upon being interrupted, but decided to overlook the disrespect just this once. "Yes, you've been accepted. I had almost forgotten to inform you."
"I got in!" This time, Carter jumped to his feet and pushed his bangs back in gobsmacked astonishment. He, Carter Yamanashi, was joining the WPPD Forensic team at the age of eighteen. Eighteen! It took the combination of a miracle and genius work-ethic to establish such a position, and that was exactly it. A blessing. A sign.
A sign...
"Carter!" Mr. Yamanashi barked, the impatience clear in his clipped tone. "Have a seat and pay attention! You have an inside voice, recall how to use it!" However, Carter completely ignored his griping. Actual tears of relief and joy filled his eyes, and he sent over-exaggerated kisses towards the ceiling as a silent thank you to the big guy upstairs.
His parents traded baffled expressions. They had never seen their son so ecstatic and full of life before. He was generally a very cool-tempered and tranquil and formal young man; it was as if an entirely different teenager was in their presence. Shaking off his perplexity in place of flaring agitation, Mr. Yamanashi's voice boomed through the den.
"Carter!"
Unlike before, Carter didn't hold back an eye roll. He did so with a dramatic sigh to boot, posture loose and careless. "Omg what?!"
"Remember your manners and your place!" Mr. Yamanashi's face was a pulsating red, absolute heat and anger billowing under his collar. A vein bulged to life along his forehead next to the right temple. "Now hurry up and tell us whatever foolishness you needed to say!"
Carter paused, suddenly far more subdued. His head lowered in shame and sheepishness. "Yes sir. My apologies..."
A pause.
Chest ballooning with a deep breath, Carter tossed his head back before throwing it forehead to scream in his parents' faces two words.
"I'M GAYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"
The volume of his scream literally shook the floors, climbing higher and higher in frequency until every single piece of glass in the house shattered into a million pieces. The Yamanashis ducked for cover under the table when every window in the house followed suit, showering their expensive furniture and carpet in shards.
At the end of his scream, Carter snapped his finger saucily while rolling his neck. "And I'm fabulous WPPD, biatch!" Without another word, he spun around, flipped his hair, and strutted towards the front door, where he had a pre-packed suitcase waiting for him. Mr. and Mrs. Yamanashi cautiously peeked their heads over the edge of the table, watching their bad and boujie son leave like Beyonce on a model runway.
---
Ring!...Ring!...Ri-- "Hello? Car? H-how'd it go--"
"Start making room, honty. You got a gay bad bitch for a new roomie~"
Quinn Bonnibel Kimberly | Location: Nullification Chamber | Interactions: Jen & Leo
Quinn sat curled up in her corner, literally radiating waves upon waves of bitterness. She hadn't felt this helpless and forcefully aware of how useless she was in years. Nat had always done a good job of distracting her from it, of claiming over and over that her mere presence hauled the brunette out of the dark like a guiding light. During those times, Quinn foolishly believed every word, desperate for them to be an accurate representation of reality. And yet...she knew. A dull, lingering chamber in her heart groaned and protested with each reassurance. Her lover, Nat...her sister, Carrie...They loved the blonde too much to tell her the truth.
Quinn's value amounted to nothing. If she left, the world would literally lose nothing.
It was better to swallow that pill now and get it out of the way.
Eyes glassy and exhausted, she blankly watched as Jen attempted to reason with Leo. The Brazilian man had yet to sit up, though it seemed that he was finally tuning in at the sound of Portuguese escaping her lips. He slowly rolled onto his stomach, peering up at the woman with unnaturally innocent and distant eyes.
"Anjo..."
And then a light switch flickered in his brain. Or maybe a stray synapse snapped to attention. A jolt of clarity made a frown pull at the man's lips and he hastily scrambled towards Jen, crouching before her as his eyes burned.
"Q-...Querido," he whispered, absolute pain and apology coloring his tone. He took her hand and leaned towards her knuckles, as if prepping to kiss or nuzzle them comfortingly...
And then his senses slowed and dulled. And he blinked. Rapidly. Until a serene smile and giggle wiped the agony away like a monsoon. He started staring intensely at the dents and crevices of Jen's fingers while muttering rapid Portuguese under his breath. He was now counting.
Quinn heaved a sigh of defeat. "I don't think we can reach him right now. Whatever his powers are connected to, this damn room took away that and something up here." She tapped at her own temple. It would make sense, especially since her own mental condition had changed; the only difference was that hers was for the better, while Leo's...Leo's was unfortunate.
Jennifer's eyes momentarily caught sight of Quinn, who seemed desperately lost in her thoughts. Jennifer could not blame her, for suffocating her own twisted thoughts was a practice she was forced to do in this situation. If she could, she would have thought about her family, replaying memories over and over again in an attempt to perhaps, once again feel Jonah's embraces. To feel the water wash over her body as Abigail created their own swimming pool. Radiating in warm as Hanna wrapped her in blankets of energy...A little baby Evan held to Jennifer as he giggled up at her smiling face. Watching him grow and stick to her like a moth to a light post. She feared she would never get to experience any of those feelings again, assisting Jonah in an attempt to find a mate, watching Abigail's stomach grow with each passing month, knowing Hanna was off doing God knows what...Evan asking her how to perform a derivate equation. She swallowed the ever growing lump that settled at the top of her throat.
Some remaining hope began to reignite in her chest as Leo rolled over to his stomach, reaching out to her and grasping her hand. She squeezed instinctively in return, watching as he began to recognize her. "Sim, meu querido?" She swallowed anxiously as he began to approach her grasped hand as if to kiss it, but rather began to slink back into his trance. She patiently allowed him to inspect her hand and sighed as she placed her free hand over her forehead. She glanced back at Quinn as she realized that she was correct. His powers correlated with his more...eloquent side. Jennifer bit her lip as she once again squeezed Leo's hand.
"You are right. There is nothing we can do besides get him out of here as soon as possible. I...I am worried what is going to happen if...when they come to retrieve us." Her eyes traced to her shoes. Would they force them into work? Threaten their family and loved ones if they didn't? She grimaced. She did not like the sound of that, as much as she knew her family was fully capable of defending themselves. Her breath began to catch in her throat and she resorted to breathing exercise an old brother and arms taught her. With each breath she took, picture something that calms her. The first thing was that of her old cabin. Then her apartment. Her bedroom, the kitchen where she baked. She grew calm again, her grip upon Leo's hand still strong.
Mister Nigel Joseph Hawthorne felt the most pleasant fire scorch within his chest as he was overwhelmed with a smile. His recruiters had come to report that all that were requested had made it safely. He was surprised to see Neil had returned first, although not disappointed. As far as he was aware, Jennifer Clemons, Leonardo Miranda, and Quinn Kimberly were safe and resting. Quincy came second, surprising Hawthorn with a picture of Vincent Aaron's beast, one that he was to refer to as Stitch. Stitch had his tongue out, while Quincy was pointing at it and grinning. He was surprised to see such a picture pop up upon his cellphone, considering the picture was taken right outside of the headquarters entrance. Hawthorne could see that Vincent was in the background, and despite having been cloaked and hidden behind a balaclava, there was clear concern in his posture. It made Hawthorne amused, yet curious as to Quincy's behavior. He had never sent photos to Hawthorne, unless it was absolutely a necessity.
Cyrus had come third, as well as sending a picture Hawthorne's way. It was of Gwendolyn Slade being forcefully pulled into an embrace by the two men. Arthur Ruth, despite being well masked, was clearly amused and very charmed by the thought behind the photo. It made Hawthorne pleased to see his employees, well, applicants, were at least beginning to find comfort. The deaths of the heroes, as well as bizarre disappearances and what Hawthorne liked to refer to as "resignations" confused and bruised the man severely. The heroes may not have always been kind to him, but they were his family. FreakShow's death absolutely devastated the poor man, and despite the fact that FreakShow would barely bat an eyelash towards Nigel Joseph Hawthorne's direction...Hawthorne loved him. He could not help but find a fatherly affection towards the angered and troubled man. It hurt to know he had died in such a brutal and unforeseen attack.
Hawthorne began to distract himself as he looked over the files of his recruiters, noting that Neil's and Quincy's report seemed to be written up to near perfection. Cyrus, as he suspected, was a little late with his report, and rather gave an oral account as to what happened.
"Well because you are so smart Joey I figured...heh, getting my two best buds in the whole wide world was going to be a piece of cake. And it was. Unfortunately I fear that leaving poor Art with Gwen is only gonna leave him without an eye..."
Hawthorne had merely smiled and wrote a single word upon Cyrus's profile
Irreplaceable.
Now as Hawthorne had more time to look over the accounts, he raised his tea cup to his lips to take a gentle sip...then nearly choked as he began to read over Neil's report. It was...brutally honest as to what happened. This concerned Hawthorne immensely. No no no! All guests must be made to feel welcome...he flickered past the last few pages, grimacing as he managed to pick up some of the details. Oh dear...oh dear oh dear. He withheld a sigh as he took one large, last gulp of his beverage
---
"Alright. Neil darling could we have a moment to discuss something?" Hawthorne inquired gently as he managed to catch sight of the man, or at least...one of his clones. "Oh...oh dear me. You placed Ms Clemons, Mister Miranda and Ms Kimberly in the Nullification Chamber? Oh dear that is...required for captured villains before their departure...are we sure it is appropriate the keep them there? I wish to gather the applications into the briefing room and I would like very much to make sure those three individuals are doing alright..." Hawthorne began to flip through more of the papers he was given on each individual. Jennifer Clemons had no history of post traumatic stress from her time in the military, but Hawthorne knew far better than to keep a former army member in a small space for too long. Mister Miranda would have a horrid experience within the chamber, and Hawthorne feared losing his and Ms Clemons trust. As well as Ms Kimberly...for if he knew was truly similar to her sister, would not be pleased with the idea of captivity. Nor mentally in shape as she had been separated from her family for almost a month following the horrible event. An idea popped into his mind. "Oh, remind me to introduce Ms Kross to Ms Kimberly when we have the time...And remind me to contact Caroline Kimberly at some point in the next few days." He swallowed as he glanced down the to do list. He had suddenly wished bourbon was a part of his tea option this very day. It was no matter.
He was sure he could convince Ms Clemons to share a drink. Specifically to calm her nerves. Or, if not her...He knew he could count on Quincy Daniels to use a certain, bizarre Tibetan technique of stress relief. He did not care. He just needed to gather the applicants and give them the brief details as to their current situation.
Quinn Bonnibel Kimberly | Location: Nullification Chamber | Interactions: Jen
"You are right. There is nothing we can do besides get him out of here as soon as possible. I...I am worried what is going to happen if...when they come to retrieve us," Jen said.
"The one that should be worried is the asshole that took us," Quinn grumbled, though she didn't have full belief in her words. If that man was able to catch all of them without any help, who was to say that this time would be any different? What if he had something else up his sleeve? There was no telling with this man, especially for the blonde since she didn't know much about him aside from what Jen had told her.
Meanwhile, Leo remained transfixed and fascinated and utterly spellbound by Jen's fingers. Quinn would've found the sight slightly cute, but there so many things wrong with it. Leo's mental condition, Jen's burning concern for him, and their fucking imprisonment. So yeah--not so cute after all. Besides, cute shit made the blonde's gut churn anyways; she wouldn't exactly appreciate it of those two shoved their lovey-dovey antics down her throat, though she'd take it over this cell any day.
Pick the lesser of two evils and all that jazz.
Not exactly in the mood to face her crappy life, Quinn pulled into herself, deeper and deeper into her suddenly quiet head to find some sort of peace. Where could she find peace? What brought her tranquility and happiness? What kind of trick question is that, Quinn? she inwardly scoffed. She didn't care if she thought of Nat 24/7; no one outside of Colette could judge her for it and the French demon spawn was on temporary leave.
---
"How...Freaking how?!"
Nat wore a shit-eating grin and nudged Quinn. "Admit it, I'm the Halo master."
"You just started playing today!"
The brunette winked playfully. "Guess I lucked out with an awesome teacher~."
---
Quinn still had no idea how the woman managed to whoop her ass in Halo so badly. What had started out as a casual round turned into a merciless massacre. Quinn had lost 13 times before demanding apology cuddles, very much in a sore loser mood.
---
Quinn swung the door open with a wide smile. "Welcome ho--whoa!"
Quinn nearly fell over as Nat leapt into her arms and clung to her like a koala.
"I've gone five days, seven hours and 48 minutes without Quinny lovin'. Bedroom. Now."
"But I spent like two hours making this super fancy dinner and--" Any further protests were obliterated by Nat's lips smashing into hers heatedly.
"We have a microwave. Now go."
"Yes ma'am."
---
Quinn had to hide a smile behind her hand as the memories flooded her one after another. Each new flash of images managed to lift the corner of her lips more and more. God. That woman was seriously her everything. Her blue eyes strayed down to the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. "Precious"...
"Wait for me, Precious. I swear I'm coming home..." she whispered sadly under her breath while tracing the ink with a shaky finger--
A loud, long hiss.
Quinn's eyes snapped up in time to see the door...opening. It was opening! Jumping to her feet, she glanced hastily at Jen, awaiting the woman's next orders or for a signal or...or something.
"We need to be cautious Quinn. That man...he knows how to get to all of us. He may have sedatives on him. He might have another device to handle Leo..." She grimaced at the thought, his image blurring behind her eyes. She resumed her practice of breathing, Leo's attention upon her hand concerning her more and more. If it kept him calm, so be it. She would sit here with him as long as it took, whatever it took to soothe her friend...She swallowed. She did not know how long she was going to be here, but she felt her muscles begin to tense. She desperately wished to pounce. To strike the walls, to do anything that would bring them one step closer to freedom.
"We will be out of here in no time..." She mumbled to herself, focusing on the phone call she made to Evan and Jonah before she left. Did she even bother to admit she loved them? Did she tell Abigail she loved her the last time they went to check on her pregnancy? Did she tell her family a proper goodbye the last time they were all together? She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She couldn't focus on that. She knew she was going to get out. They didn't want to kill her...yet she wasn't sure if they'd let her leave anytime soon. She grit her teeth lightly, hands trembling as she could hear a low...hiss. The door. It was...
"Fuck yes." She muttered under her breath, carefully removing herself from her Querido's grasp. Before her she saw two men, one who was clearing the man whose head she had blown off and threatened to blow off a second time, and beside him was a man with a concerned demeanor. He looked almost...hurt. Sick with worry. Her head tilted and she held a hand up to Quinn, informing her not to move just yet. She approached, brows furrowed and fists clenched. "I'll slice your throat you son of a bitch." She threatened, raising her strike to aim her abductor in the dead center of his face. However, in what seemed less than a second, she felt a gentle hand grasped around both of her wrists. The man beside her abductor had gotten in front of her in no time, his dark eyes pleading.
"Ms Clemons, I am so sorry about your predicament within this room. I did not wish for your arrival to be in such a fashion and I apologize profusely." He squeezed her wrists, touch ever gentle yet informative of the actions he could take if she lashed out. His grasp upon her hands gave him complete control over her, and unless she wished to strike, she had her abductor to handle as well. She stared, eyes cold and tired, straight into the stranger's.
"You kidnapped us. At least let me have a proper finish to the conversation your associate and I were having...oh yes...what did you tell me? Do it? Oh, I don't believe I've held up my end of the bargain..." Once again, the man squeezed her wrists and offered a gentle smile.
"Jennifer. I understand you are angry and you are fearful. I have come to inform you we only request you remain for the briefing. Your expertise, as well as Mister Miranda's, followed by Ms Kimberly's potential...these are great factors that we would be more than joyful to have." His voice remained soft, ringing with a husky undertone. In fact, it took Jennifer a few moments to fully comprehend what he was saying, and she narrowed her eyes as he continued. "You do not have to stay afterwards, you may go home whenever you'd like, but we beg of you, please stay for a brief period. I promise you the briefing will not take more than half an hour. You can head home." The man's words rung with truth, his grip still strong upon her wrists. "I will not stop you from doing this."
"Let go of me, and I will consider it." She growled lowly, watching as the man released one wrist but had his hand firmly grasped upon the other. His eyes glazed over with what appeared to be sadness.
"You will not harm any employees, yes?" He inquired of her, pleading and slow, inspecting her with trusting eyes.
"I suppose not. If it means we can go home." Anger remained present underneath her skin, but she slowly nodded as she realized her situation. Had she attempted to fight, it would be nearly fruitless. There were more than these two. Her abductor could easily split apart. Jennifer's best bet was to pray that the man before her was telling the truth. "If that is not the case mister..."
"Hawthorne." He claimed gently, slowly bobbing his head. "My name is Nigel Joseph Hawthorne. Please, feel free to refer to me as Joey or Hawthorne. We are a close knit family here at West Point Hero's Organization..."
"Again, couldn't have done something like the League?"
"Copyrighted Ms Clemons. Trust me, we have tried." The man, Hawthorne, once again smiled. "And we have good news for the rest of you as well. Ms Clemons, I have your pistol ready in my office when you are ready to leave. Empty of course, but that is just the necessary precaution. Ms Kimberly, we have Ms Kross waiting for you. We can introduce you two as soon as we begin the briefing. Please feel free to step outside. Please. Come come. We have more guests for you to meet and only so little time."
"Who else is here? And..."
Hawthorne smiled simply, waving his hands dismissively as he appeared to be formulating his words. "Savage, Reaper, and Noble are here at the moment. We have another guest as well for Ms Kimberly...oh and one last thing ~ Feel free to change into your uniform. Secret identity is good, no? Your mask is..."
"Bag. Where is it?" Jennifer's eyes narrowed as Hawthorne rubbed his temple, pain seeming to explode across his face. In the next moment, he held up a bag when Jennifer had not seen Hawthorne carrying before, realizing that it was hers. "How did you..."
"No questions. We can save that for our briefing ~" Hawthorne glanced to Jennifer's abductor before saying lightly "My dear Neil, why don't you go ahead of us?"
"What, you afraid we will stab him in the back?" Jennifer smirked as Hawthorne's demeanor appeared to present one word and one word only.
Just as every coiled muscle Quinn's body was prepping to snap, Jen's hand froze her in place. Absolute confusion overwhelmed her with just a tinge of annoyance; she was beyond itching to exact some revenge on that kidnapping fucker. Nonetheless, the blonde obeyed and forced her shoulders to relax, though a massive pool of tension still buzzed under her skin.
At Jen's throat-slitting threat, Neil remained rooted in his spot, looking quite unimpressed and calm behind Hawthorne. As they two traded words, he mumbled at a volume just loud enough to reach people's ears, "You see, sir? The therapy sessions would indeed be beneficial for this batch, especially this angry one."
"Don't count me out of the equation Mr. Dupli-dick," Quinn grumbled while shoving her hands into her pockets and glaring lasers through the man's form. "She'll slit your throat while I'll corrode your fucking kneecaps to dust." Her voice lacked the passionate ire in Jen's, but the devotion and promise in her words was just as prominent.
A beat.
Neil pointed at Quinn. "Sir, shall I add her to the list as well?"
"Oh--Fuck your stupid list!" Quinn snapped while throwing her arms up. Unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable! She couldn't stand how comfortable this asshole was while in the presence of pure unfiltered rage but, then again, he technically wasn't. This was likely a copy, who was quite comfortable with the idea of dying.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Mutter several curses under breath, Quinn decided to approach Leo, who was stuck in his crouching position and watching Jen converse with Hawthorne curiously. He hummed faintly under his breath, apparently some sort of song in Portuguese. Or maybe it was a lullaby that had stuck with him. Either way, it didn't look he was going to move on his own anytime soon. Cautiously, Quinn laid a hand upon his shoulder to grab his attention. Like the snapping of a whip, he looked up at her with disturbingly rapt attention, his humming completely gone.
"Hey, uh," the blonde started awkwardly, "It's time to go, Leo. Let's go. Come on." She felt sort of guilty; it was almost as if she was urging along a puppy, when not too long ago this man was basically her caretaker. It felt wrong in so many ways.
"..."
Leo just stared at her.
"..."
And stared some more.
Quinn shuffled from foot to foot, taking a quick moment to glance Jen's way. She seriously had no idea what to do. Leo didn't react much to her outside of screaming back at her that one time...Oh. Wait. Fuck--that might work, but fuck.God I hate life right now...Quinn thought as her eyes briefly fluttered closed before opening them again to lock onto Leo. The man's cheek was now resting atop her hand in a sleepy fashion.
Clearing her throat, Quinn called out, "Hey. Hey Leo."
Just as he looked at her again, she screamed, her voice echoing through the chamber and down the halls...
Words could not describe the raw humiliation swallowing Quinn whole.
However, much to her surprise, Leo seemed to respond to this. He perked up, biting his lower lip as excitement made him giggle. Shooting to his feet like a rocket, he inhaled deeply before screaming back in Quinn's face, "Ahhhhhh!"
Quinn gritted her teeth. Then screamed back. "Fucking ahhhhh to you too!" She took a step back, nearing Jen and the others at the door. Just as she hoped, Leo followed suit and answered with yet another yell. The pattern progressed like that, coaxing him closer and closer to the exit with some convoluted shouting game.
Once Quinn was back in proper hearing range of Hawthorne's babbling, she attempted to tune in between each shout. "Okay, I got him this far--"
"Ahhhhh!"
"Ahhhhh!" Quinn inhaled. "Just get him through the freaking door before my throat dies, alright? I kinda need it."
"And we have good news for the rest of you as well. Ms Clemons, I have your pistol ready in my office--"
"Ahhhhh!!"
"--when you are ready to leave. Empty of course, but that is just the necessary precaution," Hawthorne said, though Quinn barely had the patience to care. Look, if it didn't mention her name and leaving this damn building in the same sentence, she couldn't be bothered.
Leo poked her arm, a gentle reminder that it was her turn. However, she couldn't bring herself to pay any attention to his prodding once Hawthorne finally addressed her.
"Ms Kimberly, we have Ms Kross waiting for you. We can introduce you two as soon as we begin the briefing. Please feel free to step outside. Please. Come co--"
"WHAT!" Quinn suddenly screamed, completely oblivious to the pleased smile gracing Leo's visage as he nodded in satisfaction. Her sky blue eyes nearly bulged out of her skull, pinning down Hawthorne with a wide gaze that could drill a sinkhole from here to the surface of Beijing. Ignoring Leo's existence completely, she shoved her way past Jen and seized Hawthorne by the shoulders, nearly driving the man out of the chamber and into the halls. The pure desperation roll off of her was stifling. Suffocating. Tears were already building in her bloodshot eyes.
"Sh-she's here? She's really here? You're not fucking with me, right? C-cuz I swear if you are, I'll...I'll..."
Somewhere in the background, Neil coughed into a fist while whispering, "And thus the list expands."
"I'll fucking deal with you later!" Quinn growled while pointing at the agent, who, once again, didn't bat a single eyelash at the hostility. Quinn released Hawthorne, taking a few steps back to give him breathing room as a certain...fog started to roll back into her head. The blonde paled; oh God, oh no...
Mon Dieu, Colette groaned. What transpired? I had lost consciousness for a moment...
"F-fuck...Fuck! No!" Quinn hissed while palming her skull. Holding in a groan of defeat, she said, "J-just...Take me to her already. I'm so fucking tired of this. Everything!"
Another pause.
Neil pointed ahead, already turning on his heel. "I shall go ahead, then."
"My good Neil they do not need therapy. They need somewhere comfortable to be where they will not feel threatened nor enraged. Do I make myself clear?" Hawthorne kept his demeanor cold and hard, but beneath the skin he felt worry and dismay build within him. Truly their words were angry, and he feared within his very soul that he had created a dent within a possible working relationship. Hawthorne figured that, perhaps, he should have handled the recruitment himself. The problem was, there was the pile of paperwork, there were phone calls to loved ones of the deceased heroes to be made. In fact, Hawthorne had just contacted Evermore's ex husband, who he briefly considered a suspect. However the man had broken down into sobs, and Hawthorne could not bare to continue to tell him of her suspicious "car accident." Hawthorne did not want to have to make another phone call, specifically not to Caroline Kimberly, a David Clemons...or of course the Mirandas. he was not entirely certain how to contact them but...he could. He knew very well that he could. He just prayed he wouldn't have to.
Hawthorne was dragged from his cruel thoughts as he was suddenly hyperaware of Quinn Kimberly's screams. His eyes flickered up as he spoke to Jennifer, noting that the woman was using this tactic to lure Leonardo from the chamber. Hawthorne feared that Mister Miranda's mental condition would become clear while in this room, and he had to hide the urge to dig his nails into the palm of his hands. This room was not a good place, he knew that very well. He even recalled Evermore, Sirena...all of them. All of them joking about throwing the pesky little heroes inside.
"That little bear bitch keeps getting in the way. I wonder if she's claustrophobic?"
"You know...I didn't hurt that Skull Kid. That what they are calling that little punk? If I did, I would have just thrown them in here...watch them for a while...see if they'd squirm..." "I wonder what would happen if...get this...that little monster summoner was in there? I met him once or twice, the psycho, think he'd hurt himself enough to summon that thing? Heh. I wonder..."
Hawthorne stopped. He grimaced and raked his hand through his hair. He did not want to admit it to himself, but the titans as he referred to them kindly...they were cruel. He never understood the cruelty, especially towards the next generation of heroes. The titans had their beginnings, but they had a simple luxury.
They did not have themselves to fear. No large figure to push them down. The titans grew cocky, and unfortunately, as Hawthorne knew, that meant the worst. That meant they allowed themselves to be vulnerable. Hawthorne could not allow this for the next generation.
As he spoke, a familiar surprise over took his being as Quinn nearly dragged him out into the hallway, where she grasped his hunched shoulders. He forced himself to relax, exhaling peacefully as he claimed in a gentle tone. "It is okay, Ms Kimberly. We are going to take you to her right now, okay? She is in the briefing room. She is safe in there, Quincy our recruiter was very kind with her I promise." He decided to leave out the part on the report on the gang violence that had occurred earlier. It was a good thing Savage was in the area, or he would have lost an important applicant. That and a dear soul which he knew was hurting. "We will start right this way Quinn." He promised her as she let go, watching now as Jennifer guided Leo out of the room with a tender and cautious care. She quirked an eyebrow in his direction and claimed
"Hurry it along now Nigel the Great. I still haven't had dinner and I swear to God if this ends up into some saving the entire universe debacle Im going to be pissed."
Hawthorne swallowed. If only Jennifer Clemons knew.
Quinn Bonnibel Kimberly | Location: To Briefing Room | Interactions: Jen, Leo, Neil & Hawthorne
Quinn nodded in agreement to Hawthorne's plea, far too disgruntled and discombobulated to argue any further. Plus, she wanted Nat back in her arms--immediately. Of course, she already had a set of actions planned ahead of time if the man turned out to be lying to her. After confirming Nat's absence, she would zoom around to jack Neil's wallet and ID (just because she could), find the nearest stairwell, race down, and sprint back home like a madwoman.
But for now, she would cooperate. Nodding slowly, she mumbled, "Fine," and followed after the two men...
"Meu...Mue Querido?"
Oh. Right. Leo.
Quinn was almost afraid to look, but she knew that she would. She somewhat cared about the man; it'd be impossible not to since he was reason she survived the miasma constantly trying to pull her asunder. She risked a glance back, only to be met with the sight of...a strangely serene Leo.
He stood with proper posture and grace again, hands clasped in front of him and he stood next to Jen, peering into the woman's gaze with the saddest yet most calm eyes Quinn had ever seen. Breathing controlled and tranquil, he muttered, "Apologies, mue Querido." He massaged his temple lightly. "I did not mean to leave you and my friend alone during such an important time." For the briefest moment, he glared icily at the nullification chamber before shoving the sentiment away as quickly as it came. "I shall never step foot in there again."
Peering ahead at Neil's retreating form, he held out an arm for Jen to take while nodding gratefully at Quinn. "Thank you for your support, my friend. Both of you. Also, meu Querido?" What he said next was presumably playful, but the emotion was lost in his tone and features. "We must not be too hasty to use violence, yes? Unlike specific people." The end of his sentence was weighed with contempt directed at Neil's back.
The man in question raised a casual thumbs up, not once turning around to face them. "I'm thrilled that all of you have recognized my greatness. It is indeed flattering."
"Go fuck yourself..." Quinn growled under her breath while following everyone to the debriefing.
Jennifer found that following after the man, Hawthorne, drained her off all her energy. Whatever fight that had been bubbling up beneath her flesh suddenly vanished from her system, replacing by a dull, insistent throb against her skull. She was out of the room, her desire had returned, but the stress and worry that had built up overtime was starting to take its physical effect. She glanced down to her bruised knuckles, which began to pulse with pain. She grimaced and ran her thumb over top her fist, head tilting. "I suppose I might have to cancel that wrestle match with Marcus Carver." She muttered sarcastically to herself, knowing very well the man liked to see if she could truly get out of any position. So far, she could.
"Meu...meu querido?" She heard a hesitant voice from beside her and she beheld Leo, who appeared back to normal but sheepish. She offered him a sweet smile as relief flooded through her body. "Do not be sorry, meu anjo." Her fingers reached to gently brush against his cheek, as if to feel for healthy color and heat, but she retracted after a moment's thought. "It was not your fault. I am just relieved that you are okay." She took his arm as he had offered it, eyes peering and inspecting as she made sure that he was otherwise healthy.
"Hmm? Can you give me five minutes and then I can be violent? I think that's a fair trade off." Jennifer cooed teasingly, receiving a wide eyed Hawthorne, whose brows perched upon his forehead, concern and regret momentarily flashing along his demeanor. Jennifer could not help but stifle a chuckle. As dark and...horrifying as their situation was, there was something about Hawthorne that set her at ease. But this caused a whole new fear to take over.
"Recognizing one's greatness that has faltered is difficult indeed." Hawthorne mused lightly under his breath as he held his hands behind his back respectfully, a huff escaping his lips. "Alright, a warning for all of you. We have a few agitated and anxious heroes awaiting us. Caution is best performed..." Jennifer rolled her eyes as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out the mask and slipping it on before pulling her scarf from the dimension, slipping in her pocket knife into her grasp as well just in case.
"Yes yes. I am sure. Anything else?"
"I would just ask you to be patient with one of our...larger than life guests." Hawthorne hid a smile at Jennifer's confusion, and slowly they made their way to the brief room's less than impressive entrance. "Er...I promise it is much larger on the inside." Hawthorne seemed to swallow his anxiety down his throat as he pried open the door and held it open for each one of his guests. Jennifer had entered after Hawthorne instructed Neil to go through first. Before her, she saw what appeared to be a round table, reminding herself that there was no true front of the table.
How noble. Her features twisted as she nearly failed to comprehend the full scene before her. The first thing she saw...
Skull Kid. Hunched over, her hands running through her hair. Jennifer always figured Skull Kid, more popularly known as Reaper nowadays, was a female, but she had never met the hero to be totally sure. Next to Skull Kid was...
Jennifer had never seen his checkered face before. Hadn't Hawthorne mentioned a hero named Noble? She had never heard of his name before but...she figured he must be a newbie among newbies. He rested the back of his head in his hands as he stretched out, his hand lazily lifting to greet the newcomers. A mop of ginger hair threatened to pop out from out of the mask, and he slowly flattened it out with the palm of his hand, hazel eyes inspecting Jennifer, Leo and Quinn with something Jennifer had only seen from her brother Evan. Genuine playful curiosity. As if he was plotting something within his head. Across from Noble is what horrified Jennifer. She pressed her hand over her mouth to withhold a scream, a grey, scarred face staring at her. It resembled a dog, if Jennifer could call it that. It raised one gaunt, trembling and lengthy arm before waving what she assumed was it's paw, its claws sharp and rugged. Its beady red eyes stared straight into Jennifer's soul, causing her to breathe heavily. Was she the only one that saw that thing? Reaper seemed to be avoiding it, while Noble did not seem to really care. Beside the creature sat a hooded figure. Savage? She had only heard of him when FreakShow died, as well as one case where he had been named.
What sort of savage would have torn a man apart like this?
Considering the man in question was later proven to be a pedophile, Jennifer brushed the name pick aside. But now she truly understood why. The man was not the Savage. The beast was. However, the beast patiently leaned it's head upon the man's lap, and Jennifer was forced to observe as the man ran his fingers across the monster's head. She heard something that resembled a growl, but she could never be sure if that was truly a purr.
"Holy shit..." She whispered, the creature's eyes peeking up to her as if it had heard and been personally hurt by her words. It plopped back down to it's respective teammate, it's leg reaching up to scratch it's ear. Jennifer forced her eyes to move towards the next 'guest'. Normal. Normal woman.
That must have been the woman Hawthorne had mentioned before hand. Jennifer could not truly focus as to who each individual was in their singular lives, homes. Families.
She was slowly guided to a car by Hawthorne, her grip upon Leo's arm slowly loosened. She felt as if she was walking on air, yet it was not pleasant. The sensation was that of an illusion, she was not truly within reality, and this set fear within her. However, as she slowly reclined into her chair, noting that she had been placed next to Skull Kid. She slowly peeked up to Jennifer and claimed
"Madre oso se ha unido a nuestra pequeña fiesta." (Mother bear has joined our little party). Jennifer's brow pinched as Reaper once again hid her face, rather, her mask, beneath her arm.
"What Reaps said." The man, Noble claimed as he pointed to the mess of brunette hair spiking upon Reaper's head. "Madray oso...whatever." He waved his hands dismissively, achieving the opposite of comfort for Jennifer. "Bearskin right? You are cuter up front..."
"Tonto." (Fool) Reaper mumbled, prying her head from the table. "You gonna mess with more than one member of the...the...Cómo se dice...group. You going to screw around?"
"Oooo ~ Jealous?" The man chuckled, brushing his fingers along the checkered mask. "Relax, I've only got eyes for you little Skull Kid."
"Mierda." (Shit). Reaper grumbled, nudging him. "Think you can stay silent until we get started?"
"Is that a challenge?"
"Fuck it. Sure." With that, Noble leaned back and slowly allowed silence to consume him. He exhaled peacefully, leaving Jennifer with something left to be desired. She was suddenly relieved she had her pocket knife on her. Just in case of course. Jennifer grit her teeth, noticing Hawthorne had taken his place beside Savage. He nodded his head towards Quinn, then directed to the woman.
"You two can take your time. We will begin in five minutes. Everyone do what you need to before we get started."
With that, Savage rose from his chair, the beast following soon after. Jennifer had to bite back another scream as she noted...the beast was nearly seven feet tall. It's back hunched from the pressured of the ceiling and it retreated to all fours as it followed Savage from the room. Jennifer swallowed anxiously, brushing her hair from her face.
"Meu querido...Uh...this is going to sound silly but can you not release my arm? Just in case we need to escape or...something." She mumbled lightly, not wanting to admit that his presence comforted her and the worst truth of all.
Quinn had barely taken two steps into the room before a voice screamed her name in anguished relief.
"Quinny! O-oh my God, Quinny!"
For the blonde, time itself fell to a standstill, the very aspects of reality suddenly bathed in hazy molasses. Everything slowed and yet, even then, the heat beats booming in her ears were as ground-shaking as a worldwide drumming line. She couldn't breathe. Her chest was tight, coiling into itself so tightly that her insides would likely shatter. It hurt. It hurt and healed and burned and soothed and just utterly felt so much.
Bottom lip trembling, Quinn zoomed over to grab Nat before she could even stand and sprinted out into the halls, leaving her chair empty and spinning rapidly in place. Nothing else mattered; not the slow-motion visages of her so-called new teammates, not the sluggishly marching form of some demonic creature, none of it. All that mattered was the sobbing angel in her arms and finally having her there once again.
---
Nat had exhaled once, only once. Before she knew it, she was no longer in the briefing room sprinting towards Quinn, but now in the halls standing before her. Her Quinny. Her light, her reason for trying, the missing piece which could finally fill the throbbing hole in her chest after being alone for so achingly long. She was so damn beautiful, just as gorgeous inside out as Nat remembered, even with the grime and stress and undoubtedly pain coating her from head to toe.
This was the love of her life.
"Q-...Quin...ny..." Nat raised a cautious, violently shaking hand towards the blonde, as if fearing the absolute worst. That this was all a figment of her broken imagination, as if she would vanish into thin wisps of smoke, mocking her like whispers in the wind. And then she would crumble for good, once and for all, and plummet into a bottomless hole like a long-awaited punishment.
And yet, her fingers met skin. A pale cheek, slick with steadily rolling tears and trembling with an emotion that Nat knew all too intimately in that moment. When Quinn spoke, she couldn't help but bask in the movement of her face with each syllable.
"N-Nat...Precious," the speedster choked back a ragged sob, "It's really you. It's really...I..." She desperately seized Nat's hand, intertwining their fingers as the final confirmation. This was real. Entirely real. She pressed her lips to the center of the brunette's palm, remaining there as more sobs shook her insides raw. "Fuck I-I missed you so much."
"Why?" Nat whispered. The strength was leaving her, it was visible in the buckling of her knees, the absolute weight of exhaustion and release pressing down on her heart. "Why'd you leave me?" Immediately, Quinn pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her with a fear of losing her once again, and they slowly fell to the floor on their knees. Nat gripped fistfuls of the speedster's top while soaking the fabric upon her shoulder with tears. She feebly beat against the blonde's back.
"W-why! Why'd you leave me! Y-you fucking idiot! Why why wh-...I was so fucking lonely! I didn't know what to do didn't know how to think or live and i-it's all your fucking fault! W-where'd the hell did you go..." Her rambling devolved into incomprehensible whimpers and cries as her hold on Quinn grew stronger than steel. Spilling over the brim with remorse and love, Quinn soothingly ran her fingers through Nat's locks while pressing several kisses to her head, slowly rocking them back and forth.
"I'm sorry, Precious," she rasped quietly, "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry God I never thought I'd get to see my beautiful, l-...l-loving, amazingly smart, wonderful, d-dorky other half ever again." A faint giggle managed to pierce the sorrow, though it was drowned from existence soon after.
"I love you," Nat breathed, her back heaving almost painfully from the onslaught of emotions conquering her existence. Her head lifted to peer frantically into the soft blue oceans of Quinn's eyes, having realized that she missed being pulled asunder so much that it physically hurt. Another whimper reduced her voice to fragments. "I missed you, I lo-...l-love you so much, Quinny. I love you--"
"I know," Quinn breathed soothingly while peppering Nat's tear-stricken face and lips in tender kisses. "I love you too, Precious. G-God, I can't even...can't even put into words. I'm so sorry..."
The pair remained that way, lost in one another while trading kisses and whispered reassurances. In those cherished five minutes, their world was longer a blistering pile of ashes and heartache. They would be okay. They had each other, and would be okay.
Leonardo "Leo" Delgado Miranda | Location: Briefing Room | Interactions: Jen & Reaper
The shock was overwhelming. It was truly a miracle in itself that Leo had not snapped and attacked Neil yet. Or, at the very least, scoured the building in search of a generator that powered the nullification chamber. Surely, its power source originated somewhere. He could destroy that, along with the room itself immediately after. He could care less if it was built for the imprisonment of potential enemies and villains. He. Did. Not. Care.
That little pocket of Hell on Earth deserved a horrid end.
Because of that damnable chamber, he was hauled, dragged back into a chaotic version of his mind that would surely haunt his nightmares the next few months. He never thought he would ever find himself in that frenzied pit again, in that hole clogged with thoughts and actions and impulses and feelings and reactions clashing into one another like busted bumper cars. So many flashing images and sensations flowing into the wrong place, some blockaded, some surging forth like a raging hose.
It was agonizing. His personal shame...and his Querido had seen all of it.
Diseases would quiver in the face of the disgust and self-loathe currently bubbling under his skin. It itched and burned like acid, but he ignored it with practice expertise; he'd rather swallow and digest rusted nails than to worry his Querido with such thoughts.
And thus, he had only beamed at the newest guest and rubbed his Querido's arm comfortingly at the pure horror flowing through her. "Wow," he breathed in awe and excitement at the sight of the creature. He was quite big and unique in apparel, but something about the intelligent and gentle gleam in his eyes soothed a fraction of the bitterness raging in Leo's gut--an insignificant fraction, but it was still deeply appreciated. "What an interesting being! Hopefully we shall be friends, yes?" he asked while looking over at Jen.
Unfortunately, his comment didn't seem to alleviate much of her fright, which he honestly understood. He seated himself across from...Was it Reaper? Yes, that was right. He could not recall the gentleman's name, but the checkered mask seemed vaguely familiar. In that moment, he frowned sympathetically at his Querido and shook his head, reaching over to stroke her cheek tenderly.
"It is not silly at all, meu Querido. I shall never let go, yes? You do not even need to ask." However, Leo's attention diverted to Reaper, whose Momma Bear comment finally registered in his ears.
He blinked at the young woman several times, pure confusion filing his features. A perplexed grin pulled at this lips. "Tenho certeza de que minha querida me diria se ela está grávida, sim? (I'm certain my dear would tell me if she is with child, yes?)" A hint of playfulness lilted in his tone, though the uncertainty still overpowered it. Was this what they called an American joke of some sorts?
I was not aware that our new guests were amores. Heh. This makes this all the more pain...Gwen however was taken aback as one of their guests was taken in a near flash, leaving her brows furrowed as she leaned back into her seat. Two pairs of amantes (lovers). Why, that was unforeseen. I wonder if that man...Hawthorne knows better than to have too much emotional attachment. That is why I am relieved I am placed with...the dork. I do not believe he will be too much of an issue. He's a good partner. And that beast summoner...que bestia majestuosa (what a majestic beast). I honestly thought I was going to piss myself in fear, but now that I see him closer...he is nothing more than a perrito. Look at...oh dear...
Gwen noted that before the cloaked man, supposedly a hero named Savage, began to exit, the monster did too. He briefly heard the new man's words, a cheerful, tanner gentleman with Bearskin clinging to his arm as the monster briefly sniffed at their feet. Bearskin froze, which the beast seemed to have noticed and made along it's merry way. Bearskin seemed to have melted right back into her seat, light green eyes closed as the man skimmed his fingers across his arm.
Why not get on the table and hazlo(do it). She gagged at the thought, feeling the peering stare of her occasional partner.
"You know...we could be like that..." He whispered lightly, and as much as Gwen knew he was harmless, knew that he wouldn't touch her or force himself upon her without her permission...his words still caused eye fluttering, fist clenching, lip thinning annoyance.
"Intentalo. Yo te reto." (Try it, I dare you). Gwen was relieved she did not need to give sweet smiles or dreamy gazes from under the mask to get her point across. "Do you want your...your...arm, to be broken?" She frowned as Spanish and English began to mix and swirl, and she slowly returned to her normal state of mine.
"You sound unsure." Noble claimed with a soft chuckle bubbling in his chest. His gaze directed over at Bearskin and her associate seemed to drive Gwen's over as well. Did he just...I suppose stroking one's cheek in public might be a cultural difference, because Gwen was certain the last time she saw someone do this to another in a public space, the woman slapped the man. She smirked at the memory, wondering if she could ever have the opportunity of the perfect little...
"Thank you querido. I appreciate this."Bearskin claimed, her fingers tracing absentmindedly to his hand. Gwen grimaced. She never truly cared for the cute, little couple interactions. That was not actually true, Gwendolyn Slade loved hugs and hand holding with those she truly trusted, but those people were limited to three or four people in the entire city. "Again, it is just a precaution." Luckily, due to Bearskin's mask, Gwen was still able to depict the light color building up from her cheeks. Full face honey bear, full face. They don't know if you are fearful, angry, or troubled. Only the eyes truly peer through. She wondered if Noble knew this as well and that is why his mask was very similar to hers in its shape. But then again, was Noble that clever to think ahead? Surely it hid his identity but...
She didn't ponder it. She was taken aback by the man's words, and she could finally identify his words as Portuguese after a minute or two. Portuguese was very similar to her language, the issue was translating the Portuguese to Spanish, Spanish to English. Some things were going to get lost in translation but...
Pick it apart.
Child. My dear. Dear is pregnant? Would she tell me that she is...
Oh. Gwen had to hold in a laugh. She figured this man was joking, but his phrasing amused her to the point where she had to press her hand against her mask to muffle any escaped chuckles.
"Si eres el padre que conocerías antes que yo, un completo extraño. (if you were the father you would know before me, a complete stranger.)" Gwen swallowed before reverting. "Mama bear is...how do you say...a nickname para el portador de la piel de oso. (for the bearer of bear skin)." She leaned back into her seat, watching Bearskin's lower countenance twist with an attempt to understand. Gwen made it known that she could not speak Portuguese and stored it away for later use. "I do not believe we have had proper introductions, I am Reaper, or Skull Kid, whichever you feel comfortable...uh...uh, using." She snapped her fingers before gesturing to Noble with her thumb "Caballero over here is named Noble."
"Pleasure." Noble greeted them with a small salute, before remembering his promise to Reaper and falling silent once more. Gwen grinned as she realized she did have a little power over him, and once again stored away the knowledge for later use.
"Bearskin, yes?" Gwen inquired as the woman nodded, greeting with her own salute.
"Pleasure to meet you both. Were you two kidnapped as well?" She asked, voice blank yet eyes seeming to be filled with concern. A lump grew at Gwen's throat.
"Surprise adoption is what our recruiter liked to call it." Noble suddenly piped up, eyes skimming over to Hawthorne briefly. Gwen could only assume they shared a smile. He returned his gaze to his fellow heroes and claimed "We came willingly. Why, were you two..."
"Yes. It wasn't as friendly as your recruitment it seems." Bearskin seemed to once again absentmindedly run her thumb across the man's arm, gaze distracted momentarily. "It is no matter I assume. We are here and that's all that matters."
"You seem homesick." Gwen commented lightly, brushing some stray wisps of hair away. She could sense the desire to go home in anyone, having that feeling constantly until Izzy wrapped her in one of her life saving hugs. Bearskin shrugged, rather patting her stomach. "Ah. What is it that you all call it now, angry and hungry?"
"Hangry?" Noble suggested, his shoulders trembling with contained laughter.
"Ah. At my home we called that prepared fasting. Luckily Padre Williams always said Siéntase libre de jurar en el exterior."
"What does that mean?"
"Feel liberated on the outside." Gwen grinned. She didn't want to admit that her old pastor encouraged the use of swearing...at least outside. Noble merely shrugged, noting that Hawthorne had pulled out a pocket watch and was currently checking to see if the five minutes were up. From what he could tell...
The confusion on Leo's face lightened for a short moment, having realized that Reaper's comment was indeed a joke, only for the sentiment to return with renewed vigor at her use of the term Caballero. As far as he could guess, the Spanish term aligned with something like Knight or Gentleman and yet, her tone seemed far from...well, complimentary. Either way, Leo decided not to ask in case this was a personal matter...and ignore the bearskin notion.
Nope. He didn't hear that, at all.
"Si eres el padre que conocerías antes que yo, un completo extraño (if you were the father you would know before me, a complete stranger)," Reaper teased, which in turn weeded a chuckle out of Leo. He was tempted to prolong the banter in his mother tongue, but he felt somewhat guilty conversing about his Querido with her being none the wiser. Perhaps, one day in the future--when he and the Skull-wearing hero were more familiar with one another.
In the end, he settled for whispering "fair" under his breath before beaming brightly at Reaper and Noble. He waved at them with his free hand, the motion eager and over-enthusiastic.
"A pleasure to make both of your acquaintance, my friends! This is a most exciting occasion, yes?" However, his mood sobered in correspondence with his Querido's at the mention of how they were dragged to WPHO. "Ah. Yes. The idiota (fucker)," he said with his loving smile still intact. "He was a tad...aggressive with his methods. Overdead, as you say."
The Brazilian man's brow pinched in worry as his Querido rested a hand over his stomach, apparently experiencing hunger...Oh. Oh no! Their Chinese food and cookies! He could not have his Querido hangry, as they say! He leaned in to whisper to her in concern, "Do you wish for me to fly home and retrieve your food?"
---
As he asked this, Quinn and Natalie entered the Briefing Room--at normal walking speed. They were acting as casual as they could while holding each other's hands with a death grip and their faces covered in dried tears. So, in other words, they weren't doing the best job.
Quinn sat in Nat's seat and pulled the brunette down to sit in her lap, wrapping both arms around her waist like a protective lioness. The blonde didn't seem interested at all in the meeting, as her face was buried almost childishly into Nat's sleeve.
The tech genius in question at least attempted to appear attentive, glancing about at the others around the table with a carefully blank gaze. She wasn't exactly in the right mindspace to jump out to introduce herself. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she uttered a quiet, "H-hey, I guess...?"
Hawthorne took the five minutes to do a variety of other chores. What was five minutes to his guests was a perfect hour for him. He glanced around them, snapped his fingers underneath the table. He briefly got from his chair once he knew that the area around him was frozen, quickly going around to set up the the screen, taking at least ten minutes of no movement to curse, click, and struggle with setting up the screen and the photos for the briefing. "Should have had bloody Quincy handle this." He mused to himself before sitting back down and snapping his fingers once more underneath the table. Movement returned to normal, and he observed all those around him. Ms Kimberly and Ms Kross had left, Mister Aaron had left to take a phone call, likely to his worried wife. Ms Slade, Mister Ruth, Ms Clemons and Mister Miranda appeared to be getting along well, which was not something Hawthorne expected. He knew that Mister Miranda and Ms Clemons were friendly on the exterior, but anger was still festering within the two. He could understand. That room was accursed. He recalled being locked in there once and only once, a case scenario when the team had wished to go against his orders.
He never did see them coming. He shook the memory away, knowing that he only got through the three hours of captivity by sitting in the center of the room and meditating his rage away. He would have let go all of his employees, have they not been so good at what they did. He had his revenge. Hawthorne had always been clever at punishments. He ignored the thought, having a feeling that none of his new recruits would treat him so cruelly.
"Oh, one moment." He claimed as he heard the conversation between the four new acquaintances, referring to that of the meal that Hawthorne had so rudely interrupted. It would not be the same but he figured his recruits would most likely enjoy it. Noting that they were all frozen once again, Hawthorne calmly made his way to his office, preparing three pots of water for the tea. He began to set it up all on separate plates, placing only the best biscotti on each plate as well with the tea. He had assigned it due to what he thought each fit, then brought the plates out to the conference room by one. Once everyone, including the three that were missing, had a plate, he set one last plate down for the monster, this once with what he recalled the beast loved. A cut of raw meat. Hawthorne began to feel blood trickling down his nose and he had realized he used his ability for too long, so he once again took his seat, wiped away the blood with his handkerchief, then proceeded to snap his fingers to bring time back to normal.
"How the actual fuck does he do that?" He heard Jennifer Clemons exclaim as the plates appeared before her, and Hawthorne shrugged.
"I figured you all could need refreshments. Those have been there the entire time." He defended uselessly, a grin eating at his lips. "I know it is not take out, but I figure it could help momentarily."
"T-thanks. We will eat when we get home. Besides, I need to talk to you about home..." Jennifer mumbled to Leonardo, her demeanor shifting to an absentminded, disconnected appearance. Hawthorne could not blame her.
"Idiota?" He heard Gwendolyn snicker under her breath. "What an innocent name to...oh...wait...that has different meanings in Portuguese doesn't it..."
"What does idiota mean in Spanish then?" Arthur questioned, head tilted. "Idiot I assume."
"No mierda. Nice job." She gave him the thumbs up before leaning back. Gwendolyn's head tilted as the other recruits made their way back into the room. The two girls had placed themselves in the same seat, clearly uninterested in what Hawthorne was going to say. Gwendolyn's eyes seem to advert away from the two, her shoulders tensing. Hawthorne could only assume what sort of thoughts were bouncing inside her skull. Next came Vincent Aaron with his beast, his head hung as he placed himself back to his seat, his beast following his movements to the near t. Stitch did seem to catch eye of the meat before him and happily began to gobble down, silent and content. Vincent's body trembled, but Hawthorne realized it was a restrained chuckle.
"The team is all here. Let us begin, shall we..." Hawthorne stepped to full height, his hand grasped around the remote for the screen. "Oh bloody hell this should work..." He muttered as he pressed the button he had seen Quincy use to give his briefings. "Ah, there we go!" He claimed, directing the attention of his applicants to the board behind him. He slid over to the side of the room to dim the lights before pulling up the first picture.
"As I am sure most of you are aware, the original Titans have been recorded to be dead, missing, or simply gone. We have our first case, FreakShow as the media had called him..."
"Please don't show that godforsaken photo of him dead." He heard Vincent mumble from beside him, hand across his eyes. "No one deserves to see it."
"Do not worry." Hawthorne reassured, rather showing the suspects in the attack. There were only two. Vincent had recorded seeing fifteen. "These two gentlemen, if I dare call them that, have been assumed to have called in a false distress signal for an abduction in process. FreakShow and our lovely Savage here had answered the call, but it was only meant for...for FreakShow to be there. He was..."
"Stabbed. Sliced. Slit. Gutted." Vincent mumbled, his creature's gaunt arm reaching up to squeeze his hand. "It was an ambush meant to kill. No one knows who ordered it, because the two men you have in custody where attacked by one of my own creatures. My guess is...what, it's been six months and they still haven't been able to remember? Or what they do they go into convulsions about?" Vincent slowly slumped in his seat, seemingly ashamed of not having been able to do more.
"Yes. It is assumed that one of West Point's most heinous villains had ordered it. But unfortunately, at the time, he was in prison, and it is assumed that if he did get that order out, there is nothing we can do to prove it. Next, a miss Evermore..." He clicked on the next picture to reveal the woman's apartment, a single blood stain on the crude old carpet. "Shot in her home. Originally thought to be her ex husband..."
"Evermore is dead?" He heard Jennifer call out, shock clear in her tone.
"Yes. Unfortunately. It is assumed it was another hit. Next we have the golden couple, Sirena and Azrael..." He hated referring to them as the golden couple, because despite the fact the two were married... He clicked the next picture. Sure enough, it was the two laying side by side, a gun in the man's hands. "It its originally assumed that it was a murder suicide. This is the only one that...while truly suspicious, our organization is a little less hesitant to say that the cause of death is possible. We have a few more cases of them simply vanishing..." He pulled up the next few sheets of suspects and pictures of the missing heroes with their masks still upon there heads. Unease settled in his gut. "We are currently conducting investigations in nearby areas for their bodies. It can only be assumed that they have perished as well. And finally, our last case..." He pulled up the hero's profile, a man who Jennifer, Gwendolyn and Vincent did not seem to recognize. It was clear that Arthur did, his heart hammering in his chest. "Um...this man is named Gabriel Owens. He worked temporarily with us as an undercover operative. He vanished two months ago with a resignation note, claiming that he was unfit to work. Any contact that was made with him had been done three months ago. He has not been answering his cell phone, nor emails. We went to his home north of west point, but have found nothing."
"The old man...you think is dead?" Anguish seemed to overcome Arthur and he clutched at his temple, his body trembling lightly before his episode seemed to have passed. "No. He is not. He is elsewhere. But he is not dead." He claimed, tapping the side of his mask hesitantly. "Don't ask how I know this. Psychic abili..."
"We know he gave you the mask, Noble. For good reason." Hawthorne smiled thinly before going to the next picture, this time that of prominent villains currently in the area.
"hey man that's my man Scorch!" Noble suddenly pointed to the picture of the man, causing Hawthorne to swallow.
"My dear sir he is suspected of twelve cases of torture, six cases of assault beyond the fact, and one case of murder." Arthur slowly reclined into his seat, silence overtaking him.
"Oh." Hawthorne shook his head and continued forward, "We suspect these villains may have a say in who died, and we would like for this new team to bring them in. And we have one last suspect, but we do not know much about them. There is a sophisticated, underground criminal organization running within West Point. We have determined that much, but we do not know much about this organization. We hope that with each suspect we bring into our custody, we will reveal a little more light as to this group. We have a profile as to who may be running this, but we are still making edits as more comes to light. We believe this individual is in their late twenties to early thirties, had come from money and was brought into this organization by their own free will, or had founded it for the purpose of making more money, perhaps even to kick of sadistic pleasures he or she could not get from the usual torture of a human being. We will have more as time comes. Now, we know that an organized group of individuals to handle crime within the city is important, the city needs protection as it becomes clear that there is sophisticated evil bubbling within the town's roots. If any of you are fearful of you or loved ones safety, we have means of protection and a state of stay if that appeals to you. Now, we also have other options for missions, such as undercover, covert, and my ultimate favorite, hunting. I know one or two of you particularly like to do that..." He cleared his throat with a pleasant smile. "We can have profiles of newer villains or clearer branches of the organization. Once we believe we have apprehended a majority of the villains or those who are responsible for the deaths of the Titans, we can move in and eliminate the threat altogether. I have papers and agreements for all of you if you just...." He snapped his fingers.
He ran in to his office, bringing a singular packet for each applicant. He ran back in, placed it at each hero, then returned to his place. Snap.
"In these documents are terms and conditions if you will if you find this job to be a pleasing idea. It is recommended that you join, if not, we have other ways you can assist our organization. Also, something I did not admit the first time, this job comes with reasonable pay, as well as educational opportunities, as well as my personal favorite, a place to stay if that seems fit. You will all be given rooms regardless of your living situation, and this will be your main base as you work. There is a tour of the facility if you agree, but the main day of work will not begin until tomorrow, to allow for rest and recuperation. If there are any questions at all, be free to ask. You will also be given a pager. This indicates if a crime is occurring. Some pagers may connect to others so more than one hero can handle the situation. If the pager is beeping rapidly, that is a requirement for the team to...I cannot use that word for the means of copy right...come together. Now, any questions?"
Nat almost didn't catch Bearskin's comment, but the absolute bafflement tinging her tone was hard to miss. Quirking an eyebrow, Nat looked down at the table and had to pull her lips into her mouth to suppress a squeak. What...Where the hell did this even come from? In a more normal situation, Nat would've felt flattered and grateful, giving out a polite thanks and everything. However, this food just appeared...out of thin air. That wasn't normal. Well, neither was the giant dog demon thing that had rescued her by slicing those assholes to pieces...But still. It wasn't freaking normal.
Even more than that, these...whatever they are, were entirely out of Nat's league as far as fancy food knowledge was concerned. She had the taste buds of a plane Jane and rarely ate anything more expensive than Miyabi's. It was not to say that what Hawthorne provided cost a lot, but it was still extremely foreign to her. Nevertheless, she wasn't one to turn down anything free (Dear Lord--never!), so she gingerly nabbed one and startled nibbling on it, almost grimacing at how crunchy it was.
Fuck it. She was still gonna eat, dammit.
She gave Quinn a gentle nudge to grab her attention and whisper, "You want some?" The blonde barely responded; the most she did was shake her head without freeing herself of Nat's sleeve and tighten her grip around her waist. That was...odd. Quinn usually wasn't one to turn down food. Her concern doubled as she felt her...vibrating? Of course, Nat knew right off the bat that something had happened to Quinn, something that had suddenly granted her the ability to move at heightened speeds, and she had a major list of questions waiting.
But, for now, she had yet another list for Hawthorne. To be brought up at the end of the presentation--she was thorough, not rude.
"It is assumed that one of West Point's most heinous villains had ordered it. But unfortunately, at the time, he was in prison, and it is assumed that if he did get that order out, there is nothing we can do to prove it. Next, a miss Evermore..."
Nat's brow pinched. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She could devise a theory or two about a prisoner could get in contact with the outside, but it would involve some sophisticated and timely networking. In a facility as seedy and desperate as prison, it wasn't impossible to envision some slips and connections interweaving through the system. But still, the woman held her tongue.
When Hawthorne pulled up an image of the golden couple, she squinted at the mention of murder suicide...Nu-uh. Nope. Definitely not. There was no way in hell this was a suicide, let alone a mutual one. The depiction was kind of fuzzy, but she could make out a head shot in one corpse and a chest shot for the other. She couldn't say much about Azrael, but it was highly unlikely that the blood spatter on Sirena's torso would insinuate that she had shot herself...Like, unless she was freakishly flexible and shot herself in the back. But hey, she couldn't be too snarky about it. The photo wasn't crystal clear, so maybe that observation was wrong.
And the hand holding.
Who...Why did the murderer think that was smart? Nat literally had to bite back a groan. Although one could argue that Rigor Mortis could keep their hands interlocked, that grip was far too exact to happen postmortem. The effects of it would've set in approximately two hours after death and their fingers would've fallen at least a little lax in that period of time. And the wedding rings...She didn't see any. Maybe Nat was overstretching or assuming too much, but if such a loving couple were about to mutually end their lives while holding hands...wouldn't they keep their rings on? That was where the audience would first look. They were publicly a couple; it wasn't as if wearing them would endanger their identities and, even then, they were going to die.
Nat's head spun. There were so many things about that picture that didn't sit right with her, but again (and probably against her better judgement), she didn't utter a single word. In the end, she just hummed and nodded along as Hawthorne flipped from screen to screen.
Gabriel Owens...
Unfortunately, Nat wasn't familiar with the name, which kind of threw her off. She rather did well remembering names that flew through the precinct but, then again, WPHO probably did a thorough job hiding his identity, especially if he was working undercover.
Once Hawthorne moved on to discuss their (apparent) responsibilities, Nat finally felt the need to speak up. Raising a hand, she asked the man sternly, "Okay, so we're supposed bag a bad guy and drag them back here for questioning. That's fine and all, but where do you intend to hold them if they're not completely incapacitated?"
"There is indeed the room," Night Owl chimed in, his voice a strange mix of annoyed and pleasant. "It, as you say, cancels one's abilities for as long as they are in there."
"Okay, cool. So that one room, right?" She arched an eyebrow at Hawthorne. "So what? Do we keep piling villain after villain in there? Just let all those sneaky minds mingle until they plot our ultimate downfall while inside the heart of the building? Where would we dispose of them? I mean, maybe you've got an alternative I'm not aware of or something. If you do, stop me now and I'll apologize." The brunette crossed her arms rather stubbornly. She felt somewhat guilty for speaking with such a bitter attitude, but she had finally gotten her Quinny back. The thought of letting her lover run back into danger like this wasn't exactly appealing.
And, of course, her mood soured even more with this sadistic organized criminal spiel. Jesus Christ. At this rate, Nat was tempted to throw Quinn into an underground bunker guarded by the FBI, SWAT, and (her secret weapon) Detective Yamanashi on a Monday morning. "And by protection..." she started tiredly while rubbing her temple, "You mean the same kind that the most recently killed team had? Please tell me you've made improved modifications to this precaution. And if this crime circle is as sophisticated as you say, then they're going to need sophisticated equipment. Trying to get anything digitally is risky, but I bet you they've gotten a bit cocky after taking out West Point's Titans. There's bound to be some deleted histories and interactions lurking around that some serious elbow grease, caffeine overdoses, and heavy data retrieval couldn't crack. Some of that is probably encrypt...ed..."
Oh...she was rambling. Coughing into her fist, she leaned a little more into Quinn's arms, attempting hopelessly to retract like a snail into its shell. Some heat flooded her cheeks. "I...I mean...Th-that's just a few worries I have...so yeah."
She went back to nibbling on the super hard bread stick. Among that entire time, Quinn had not said a single word and had yet to cease vibrating. It wasn't anything worrisome; it honestly felt sort of nice, like Nat was receiving a massage...but still. Something was off with Quinn. She leaned in again, this time close enough to nuzzle the top of blonde locks while whispering low enough only for them to hear, "Babe, seriously, are you alright?"
Again, no words. Just frantic nodding and a grunt. Unbridled worry pooled into the pit of Nat's gut, but she did what she could to hide the sentiment as two stacks of documents appeared before them.
"A room to stay?" Night Owl hummed in interest, though he made no move to touch the contract. He merely gave Bearskin's arm another caring stroke of the fingers, though Nat wasn't sure what he was reassuring her about. Unlike him, Nat immediately picked it up and started skimming it like a hawk running on 20 shots of stress and Expresso.
Gwendolyn decided to hold in her surprise at the sudden tea that appeared at her seat, the biscotti appearing delectable and just waiting to be devoured. "Curse my stomach." She mumbled as she dipped it into her tea and took a bite, pleasantly surprised at the crisp flavor. Perhaps this Hawthorne guy wasn't too bad after all. Not that she doubted him, she would just prefer confirmation about such a leader. She heard the slobbering of the large dog, nearly smiling at the sight. Gwendolyn was surprised that she was not in fear, for she only saw an overgrown animal who loved it's owner. She wondered in the back of her mind if the creature liked pats.
Her attention was soon guided off the food as Noble tapped her shoulder gently and directed her eyes towards the screen, where the crime scene photos were posted. She inspected them as she chewed, intrigued rather than disgusted. "FreakShow's death is different than all the others. His seems more personal. Sirena, Azrael...Evermore, their deaths were brought about a gunshot." She directed towards the picture of the couple with her thumb, face twisting with thought. "Sirena's death looked like it could have taken a little while longer though. Azrael and Evermore died by shots in the head. Quick, simple. I wonder if Sirena and FreakShow made someone pissed." She swallowed as her quiet musing appeared to go unnoticed by all, except for Noble, whose checkered face was inspecting her with interest and a polite atmosphere that she had never seen from the man. "So..." She lowered the mask slightly as she finished taking another bite, lips pursing in interest. "If this was a murder suicide, it is presumable that Azrael shot Sirena in the back due to blood spatter on her dress. The exit wound is...I want to say that's a .45 caliber, but I can't be sure." Her muses grew quieter, but with it, Noble grew more and more attentive. She noticed that Stitch's eyes were also glued to her as she spoke, seeming to have heard her as well. "So...if she is on her back, Azrael lying next to her...He would have shot her in the back, rolled her over, lied down next to her, take her hand in his, and then blew his brains out beside her as she was dying. What a way to say fuck you to your dying wife." She almost wondered if that shot was not meant to kill her immediately, because she noticed the blood having spread and spattered. Her head tilted. This was truly bizarre. Wouldn't have Azrael just shot himself after killing his wife? Why take the effort to lie down to her...give her hand a last squeeze...
"And the wedding rings! Wait, Hawthorne, here's my one and only question, was the couple separated?" Hawthorne glanced at her, shaking his head slowly as he watched her skim through the papers.
"There was speculation that divorce was coming. Sirena didn't want children, Azrael wanted to expand upon his powers and genetic offspring, they got into arguments. Azrael kept his wedding ring on for the most part. Sirena sold hers in secret." Hawthorne seemed to pause. "She only told me because she asked me originally to buy it. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing...No more questions for me. Thank you." Gwen mentally stored that away. She decided to look back into the file if she could, or at the very least, if Hawthorne let her. She skimmed through the packet of papers, listening intently to the woman's questions as she asked him. She had a fair point, what was protecting them if the Titans were dead?
"We have a separate facility for villains once they are questioned. They are given one of two options, a facility with the same nullification as our room that is heavily guarded. The second is a similar prison, but rather they are given collars that prohibit the use of powers. Sometimes they have no option, and it is decided by our best judgment. As for the protection, many of the Titans ignored our suggested guidelines. This facility is heavily guarded and can only be accessed with ID and a fingerprint system. We also have methods of protecting family members, which includes sending agents to watch over the neighborhood. There is an option to have a second pager known as the panic pager. press it and agents will be there to assist. This can be given to you or family members alike. Just send in the request and I will have it in within two hours." Hawthorne seated himself once more, peeking over to Savage as he read over the papers. Stitch's head slowly poked up from behind the table and observed the papers with his owner, even though Gwen had a strong feeling that Stitch did not know what was written. "As for the digital information, we figure that is where you could come in. Technology wise." Hawthorne sipped at his tea as he waited for any more questions.
"If the titans couldn't defeat this, how can we?" Gwen noticed Bearskin's voice pipe up, fear present in her tone for the first time that Gwen could detect. "Won't we get slaughtered on the spot?"
"There is something different about you selected individuals. You are not the titans. You know very well that you are mortal. You will take precautions. You will not allow pride to spill over. It...it took a lot for me to be able to sit down and say yes, I trust these individuals to save West Point. Know that, Bearskin, that I have faith within all of you. I will not allow for you to suffer. I can promise that, I will guide and assist how I can. Perhaps...perhaps what I could not do for the titans I could do for you. And perhaps that will provide some protection." Hawthorne seemed to relax against his seat, eyes closed briefly. "We are going to be much more cautious. We are prepared this time because we have an idea of what is to come. We know somewhat of what we are dealing with. We will go slowly but surely and I pray it will be enough." A smile soon graced his features again. Gwendolyn noticed that Noble was already busy filling out the papers, presumably horrified for the old man. Savage was still peeking at it, his hands trembling as he considered writing an agreement. Gwen noticed that Bearskin was not quite ready, glancing at Night Owl before claiming lightly.
"We still need to talk about that." The woman seemed to swallow her hesitance before reaching to squeeze Night Owl's hand, reaching over to read the papers finally. Gwen could not blame hesitance. This was a startling situation. But she knew that Hawthorne was right in some perspectives. The town truly did need assistance in these dark times.
