Reality's Exile Heroes, Name 100% Stolen from Kid Hunter

[+Aiko+]

Aiko leaned back in her office chair and closed her eyes. Staring at a computer monitor for a few hours tended to make her eyes bug out. She reached forward for the coke bottle on her desk, and absently unscrewed the cap while not looking. Caffeine did bad things to her, but today she needed it. Sleep had been hard to come by since her equilibrium had been totally upheaved by the events two weeks prior.

Her outward demeanor made it impossible for anyone to suspect anything was out of order, but her internal sense of balance was completely disrupted. She thrived on routine, seeking comfort in the mindless rhythm of day to day activities. It was internal music, as natural to her as breathing and walking.

Not to say that her current job wasn’t routine; it was. Of all the exiles, she was one of the very few who sported any formal education beyond a high school degree. She was a qualified, stamped, and approved data cruncher even before her own abilities manifested an almost absurd pattern-recognition system in her brain. She could see connections that were half-insane most of the time. Chaos theory was the only thing that came close to explaining it. At first Mark, Jim, and Neil thought she was clairvoyant, but she quickly corrected them. She knew she wasn’t. She couldn’t see things before they happened, she saw them as they were happening, even if nobody else could see the chain of events that would lead to a certain outcome. She could, and in two weeks she had been right every time.

But in those two weeks, no one had come one step closer to solving the riddle of the Greys’ attack. Indeed, they couldn’t even prove the attack was by the Greys! With her statistical and science background, they decided to her have a crack at the data. Perhaps she could see something they couldn’t. But, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see a pattern in the numbers. She felt like she let them down to a degree, even if she knew that to have such high expectations of herself was silly. She was a toddler compared to some of these seasoned NSA guys. Just because she had a random ability that so far had been of very little use didn’t mean she could solve anything they couldn’t. That understanding didn’t make her feel much better though. She was a perfectionist at heart, after all.

With a sigh, she leaned forward and started writing more statistical programs into SAS, hoping that one more analysis would give her the answer, but she knew she was fishing without bait on the hook.

[~Tvae~]

Tvae was content, to say the least. At least, as content as possible, given the circumstances. He had woken up one week ago in a hospital bed with no clue where he was or what had happened. Soon someone had come and explained to him that they had moved to a new base, but beyond that, he still had no clue what had really happened. He could always ask or such, but hey, he was lazy.

Unfortunatly, he was forced to consider himself the only person there who had no idea as to their power. He could absorb water, of course, but that was all he knew of it. And even that ability he had no control over, when he could or couldn't absorb water was still random in timing at best. Try as he might, though, he couldn't get any other ability to manifest itself...

Oh well. Beyond that, though, his life was going pretty excellently, at least as best as it could. All the money which he had earned (for doing, well, pretty much nothing. Except acting as a human mop) had gone into a computer, World of Warcraft, and a hell of a lot of ska music. Oh, and a Wii for when SSBB came out.

As far as the Gray situation, well... As he really didn't know the full extent of the situation, he just tried not to worry himself over it. By that, I mean that he spent all his time jumping around the room while blasting Everything is Cool by Reel Big Fish.

[~DJChilllyPhil~]

*After a few minutes of enjoying the unoffial, yet interesting sport of channel surfing, Phil settled on a channel that would usually have something interesting on: Discovery. He has turned to this station a couple of minutes before and it was currently showing a program about supernatual activities and the like. As this was going on, he was still sitting in the reclined sofa, though he was very quiet*

"...Mmh..."

*After a couple more minutes, he stirred slightly before settling down again. Seemed that some of the stress of the situation had him sleeping on the couch. This wasn't the first time this had happened, though it didn't seem to bother him a lot.*

"...Zzz..."

*Sleep was always a good thing.*

[~Psycho Werekitsune~]

(I'm dropping out for reasons that can be clarified by consulting Scout and beflexor. You should be glad I had the decency to actually do so without leading other people on.)

[~Lt. Jessie~]

((OOC: Joint post with DJ))

Jessie walked over to another edge of the roof and hung upside down to peek into the room after hearing Kid Hunter scream something about Sonic being in Brawl. She huffed at that statement. Sure she liked the blue hedgehog, but that was back then when he didn’t have to try too hard to gain popularity. Now it was just all a dud. She shrugged the thought and looked around in the room.

Apparently, it was scattered with games and a reclining sofa. She blinked a few times to get a better look, only to see Phil asleep on the couch. She took hold of a small twig and held it between her lips as she let herself in, standing on the sill before tiptoeing towards the sleeping one. She was in a rather childish mood after having a small bit of chocolate; not hyper yet, but very childish. She crouched near him and poked him with a leaf, only to giggle silently as she slightly singed the tip of the twig enough to turn it black. Using it like a pen, she began to lightly draw splotches on his face and then burned a little more to place soot in his palm to dirty it a little. Of course, she did the burning at the window to let the odor escape. There was still no sign of the Chozo ghost, but pretty soon, she had everything set.

Taking a crow feather she had picked up on the roof, she began to tickle his face a bit.

“Hee-hee-hee…” she giggled to herself. “Now he will look a little like Kalos after this, being the black Chozo bird he is…”

As she was ‘drawing’ on his face, Phil stirred a bit, mumbling somewhat before settling back down to sleep. As she then began to tickle him, his face contorted and he rolled slightly, his eyes opening.

“Wha?…”

“KALOS!” she squealed, jumping back in case that ghost would come out of nowhere.

“WHA!!” His body jerked in suprise, scrambling a bit before stumbling out from the sofa.

Jessie laughed at the reaction. It was a bit more than she expected, but it was funny regardless. As she laughed, a slightly tinge of pink began to color a tiny flame that had lit on her twig.

“Wha… How’d you get in here?…”

He looked at her as she giggled, taking small notice of the pink flame

“Y-you… You left your window opened,” she managed to get through her giggle fits before finally calming down. “Besides, thought I’d drop in to see how you were doing,” she replied, seeing the pink flame and quickly snuffing it out. “…Pink…”

“Huh?…” He looked at the open window before looking back at Jessie. “Uh…”

“So how have things been going? They haven’t pushed you too hard, had they?” She was trying to control herself from laughing at her work on his face.

“Uh…No, not really…I think it was because of Amy that they were taking it easy on me…” He chuckled a bit. “I would be a bit freaked too if I saw that happen…uh…” He noticed that she was trying not to laugh. “…”

“What…?” she chirped innocently, slightly looking away. “Oh, you might want to brush your nose a bit… there’s like a piece of fuzz on it…”

“Fuzz?…” He moved his hand, brushing it over his nose a bit

The soot had done its job on the nose, making it an ashen color. Not technically black, but it was close enough. She watched as the ‘fuzz’ fluttered, settling on the left side of his face.

“Still there…” she giggled.

“…What do you mean?” He moved his hand over his nose.

“You only moved it.”

“Moved it?…”

He ran his hand over his face as he heard this. Jessie couldn’t hold it anymore and ran out the door, heading for her room, suppressing a giant case of the giggle and laughing fits.

“Huh? Hey!…” As he turned to follow, his eyes dimmed a bit before returning to normal. “…AH!”

He then ran to his bathroom and washed off the black dust from his face. Jessie fell into bed, clutching a pillow over her face as she laughed into it, her voice muffled, but not by much. Now she knew why Puma and Lupina would do it to her now - it was just too much fun to pass up. Phil walked out of his room and headed towards Jessie’s, smiling as he held something behind him. After a few moments, she finally settled down and looked under her bed, pulling out a few manga she had ordered. She had bought these for drawing purposes, but after reading a few scattered pages, she had gone out and bought the whole set, or at least what had been released. According to the manga sites she went to, the US release was on the third arc, but regardless, she was intrigued by Hirohiko’s art. Hard and rough, yet also refreshing considering the current anime and manga. Then again, it could be that she was just used to the more violent types.

She pulled out Alocon and opened it up, finding a blank page while she flipped through the book, finding a very nice pose to begin experimenting on: the standing straight while leaning slightly back pose. There was a light knock on Jessie’s door.

“Aroo…?” she trilled. “Who is it?”

“Someone…” He was smiling

“Someone…?” She scratched the side of her head with her pencil. “Someone who?”

He chuckled a bit.

“Alright, it’s Phil…”

She mused quietly and proceeded to the window with one of her manga books, drawing pad, and a water pistol, leaving the rest of the series behind. She climbed out to the roof, but peeked in upside down.

“Come in!” she shouted before pulling her head up.

He opened the door, walking inside and seeing that no one was there.

“Hm…Where are you?…”

Art supplies had been scattered all over the floor, as well as manga books, mostly those that were of violent or military type. There was also a laptop on with some images that were in the works, some of birds, a few of people, and random things here and there. On her bed was of one particular series, one that she had been recently introduced to by a friend at school, then Phil.

“…Where did she go?…” He was still smiling as he walked through the room

Jessie pulled out a mirror that had been attached to the end of a string and lowered it down to see what Phil was doing, noticing that he was hiding something behind him.

“Aroo…? What is this…?” she thought to herself, letting her curiosity get the best of her.

“I wonder where she is…Hm?…” He looked out the window

Jessie quickly pulled up the mirror before he noticed anything and pulled out her water pistol, giggling to herself, but perhaps, just a tiny bit too loud… He began to walk to the window, still holding whatever it was behind him.

“What…was that?”

“Oh crap…” she muttered, drawing away from the edge, but a crow of some sort had caught sight of her pen and was pecking at it. “Hey! Get away!”

She grabbed her pencil before it could make off with it, but for sure, someone had heard her.

“Hello?…” Phil looked out the window.

Jessie looked over and just let the water pistol have its way with whatever target was at the window.

“Huh? Hey!”

He quickly went back into the room as she shot the water pistol at him. Jessie made her way down and sat on the sill, giggling.

“Chozo needed a face wash, no?” she chuckled.

“Yeah… Oh, this is for you.”

He then quickly moved his hand, which was revealed holding a cup full of ice cubes, which he threw at Jessie.

“AHH!!!” Jessie squeaked, trying to dodge the flying cube and into her bed, but one had managed to get into her back, causing her to frantically get it out. “NO-NO-NO!!! COLD-COLD-COLD-COLD!!!”

“Now we’re even…” He laughed a bit, keeping his distance from Jessie.

The cube finally melted away after turning up her body temperature slight, but this in turn left a wet spot on her back. She pouted, but sat down on her bed, leaning back a little so that the particular spot wouldn’t touch her.

“All right, so we’re even…” she panted, looking at Phil before her hand rested on a book. “Oh! This is the manga you’re reading, right? The one with Mr. Wry and whatnot?”

He chuckled as she used her nickname for the main villain.

“Yeah, that’s it…”

“It sort of donned on me after reading some of these… You know how you have that Chozo ghost appear to help move the heavy logs during that one experiment, not to mention free the staircase so we could meet up with the others?”

He nodded.

“Sort of reminds me of this… At least yours wasn’t triggered by some 100-year-old vampire coming back from the depths of the sea,” she chuckled, looking at the profile page for one of the characters, Avdol. “You remind me of him, but without the fire ability.”

“…Really?

“Well, he also has a birdie as a stand. But you don’t have the fire to back it up.” She scrunched her nose a bit. “And the volleys that I saw it do in the stairwell were similar to Jotaro’s and Mr. Wry’s… It’s like a mix or something.”

“Hm… Yeah…” He sat down in a nearby chair

She pulled out the first book.

“At least you’re not a delinquent, that’s for sure!”

He laughed a bit.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Jessie thought for a minute.

“Are you going to name it?”

“Huh?…”

“Your ghostie.”

“Oh… I… never really thought of it…” He looked up at the ceiling. “Since most of them don’t see it, I never really saw a need to name it…”

“I don’t think the others have seen it because we haven’t been around them that much. I mean, Transcon is only about during the night, the others are doing their own things, and Aiko is probably busy with that one NSA agent and whatever else they stacked her with in terms of being the admin and whatnot…”

“Hm… If I do name it, I’m not sure what to name it…”

“Hmm… Well, it is a Chozo… Or at least looks like one.”

“Yeah…”

“But I already call you Kalos out of habit instead of your real name, unless you want me to call you by your real name from now on.”

He shrugged.

“I’m not sure…”

“Maybe something that describes you… Kind… gentle… strong?”

“…Huh… Well… I’m laid-back…”

“Maybe too gentle…” she teased.

“Huh?”

“Noshing!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh… Well… You don’t seem to be the type to get angered at all. I mean, I still have yet to see that side, which I hope I never do…”

“Ah…”

“Loves to eat!” This caused him to laugh a bit “It’s true. You and your pizza, not to mention the cat sitting next to you in that one pic.”

He chuckled a bit more.

“Yeah, that’s true…”

“Temperament?”

“Huh?…”

“Or Calm Temperament as a name?”

“Huh…there’s already one with a name like that…”

“Oh? Which one?”

“Yellow Temperance…”

“Uh…” Jessie stuttered a little as she flipped through the books. “Don’t think I ran into that one yet…”

“You will…” He chuckled a bit

“Hm…” She mused over an online dictionary. “Definitely not careless…”

“Hm?…No, not careless…”

“This is actually harder than I imagined…” she said finally, putting her laptop back on the desk.

“Yeah…It is…”

“Maybe the others can help a little with input when we get together tonight hopefully… Sort of miss not being able to be together…”

“What do you mean by that?…”

“Well, since we got here, I’ve sort of felt very distant from everyone… And it sort of makes me uncomfortable when I have friends around, but cannot seem to talk to them.”

“…Oh…”

“I mean, there’s you, but… I guess I’m just too shy at times… maybe scared that I might hurt them…”

“…How would you hurt them?…”

“I don’t know… I guess I don’t know how to approach them without accidentally insulting them one way or another. It was already awkward enough with the way I greeted you when we were still at the base.”

“Hm… Well…I guess all I can say is try to be yourself…”

Jessie smiled a little and nodded.

“Yeah…”

She began to doodle away in her pad a character version of what had just happened, chibi variants of their board personas messing with each other. But before she could finish the ice scene, an email popped up to the sound of the F-Zero X victory theme. She reached over the typed in her information to see whom it was from. Phil settled down in the chair, looking up at the ceiling. She muttered a few things under her breath and sighed.

“NSA wants me to go in for some psychiatric evaluation and some further training…” she replied. “Something about wanting to teach me other ways of starting up fires from distances and giving them form.”

“Ah…”

She looked up at Phil.

“I’m not going crazy, am I?”

“What? No!”

He was a bit surprised at her question.

“Well, Amy gave me one of my reports one day and she said that they hypothesize that I might go one way or another down the road… Given what had happened during that log burning experiment, they’re afraid of what will happen if they tested my full potential…”

“I told them, they have to take it easy…” he sighed. “Just do a little at a time before you’re used to the abilities…”

“Well, they are taking it easy… I mean, they did just find out that some of my moods effect what colors the flame changes… Didn’t you see that tiny pink flame earlier?”

“Yeah, I did…”

“They say that if I am happy, it goes pink. If I get angry, then it turns to this dark shade of violet. Then there’s the red, which means I’ve been ‘pumped up,’ for lack of better terms. At least, that’s what they said when they began to play some rock music while going into a slight spar with the instructor since I had a little too much energy in me and I had the urge to beat something up…”

“Ah…Ok then…”

She headed over to her closet and pulled out her weathered blue jacket while popped her Halo 3 UNSC cap off the hanger. She reached for her black-rimmed, orange-lensed Daytona sunglasses and picked up her camouflage messenger bag that had a pewter UNSC logo pin on the front. She definitely looked intimidating after putting those on, as though she had been gearing up for something big. But in all reality, this was her standard dress code. Phil stood up.

“I guess I’ll have to go then if you’re leaving…”

“I’ll be back as soon as I’m done,” she replied, tipping her hat forward to cast a shadow over her already-hidden eyes. “Besides, gotta stop by the facility to heat up some more water, or at least make sure that the fires are still running.”

“Ah, ok…”

“Hey, you know how I feel about the cold!”

“I know, I know…”

She headed for the door and opened it, grabbing the keys off the hook.

“After you…” she gestured.

“Ok…” He walked out of the room and began to walk towards his room

Jessie locked the door, but before she went her way, she pulled out a paper ball and flicked it at Phil.

“Huh? Hey…” He turned around as the ball hit him

“Aroo!” she trilled before running down the hallway and disappearing from sight.

“Ok then…”

Phil walked back into his room while Jessie looked down the hall with a giggle and promptly made her way to the psychiatrist’s office, a bit unnerved as to what they were planning this time.

[~Arx Fatalis~]

((Joint between me and Rip. ^_^))

Arx was still sitting in the treetop when he heard someone call out. "Hey! Mind if I join you?" This startled him a bit, so he clung to the limb he was on before he turned around and yelled back. "Sure, come on up!"

Rip coiled herself, winding herself up like a cat before leaping to snatch the lowest branch. Wrapping her hands and a leg around it, she hoisted herself up in one smooth motion. Rip looked up and waved a hand at the Exile. “How’s the view?”She raised both hands the sky and grabbed hold of the next branched and pulled herself to a standing position. She studied her path carefully while waiting for a response.

"It's pretty good. You can see a lot of what's below us," He said back. Arx could tell from her smooth climbing of the tree she had done this before, and he smiled.

Rip climbed slowly, careful of each hold. “Good thing, I might find something to draw.” She pulled herself onto a bent branch and sat down. “I was getting tired of origami.” She sighed. “It’s very boring here.” She rested her arm on a smaller branch and began to swing her feet.

"Completely agree. I'm always outside if I can be around here," Arx replied. "Although the internet here is better than at home... I never do this kind of thing to draw, though... I'm not very artistic, at least not that way."

Rip examined a spider sunning itself on her armrest. “I couldn’t draw either, until I sprained my wrist and almost tore a ligament.” She chuckled to her self. “Miraculously, I could draw after that event.”Rip flicked the spider from the branch. “It’s kinda’ unsettling out here, I miss my family.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “I even miss my cat, and my annoying window buddy.” Rip smirked, remember the dead mosquito. He ran into the web a day after she had killed the spider, she never did take that thing down.“What about you?”

"Yeah... I miss my family too. I just hope my brother took care of everything I needed him to..." Arx paused a bit and took a deep breath. "And I know what you mean about it being unsettling... it's not just being in a completely different place -- hell, we just went completely across the country! -- but it's being there alone. Well, not completely alone, but still... I don't really know anyone here that well, so I get kinda... lonely... sometimes."

Rip remained silent. She knew three other exiles and saw them often. She stared down at her feet and pulled her jacket tighter.“So which Exile are you?”

"I'm Arx... you can call me Troy, though, if you think the whole ordeal of calling each other by our Screen-names is weird. Who are you?"

“Oh, I’m Rip. My name’s Lisha, but you can call me whatever you want. I answer to just about anything.” Rip picked at the bark. “What’s your power?”

"Well, I'm not entirely sure. I know certain things about my power, but I think there may be more stuff I can do and I just don't know it. I know for sure that I have control over this crystal..." Arx pulled out the blue orb he had in his pocket. "I can shape it to any shape I want mostly, and move it, kind of like with telekinesis."

"The thing itself is actually what's left of the screen of my old 21 inch monitor. Remember when I posted how it exploded? Well, all that was left of it came back together into this. I guess the shock had some kind of effect on it or something."

Rip nodded. “Yeah, I got paper folding, I can make origami real. It’s kind of stupid…” she scoffed. “But it’s been somewhat helpful in interior design!” She stood on another branch and shifted her wait. “I won’t have to do woodworking to get custom shelves.” She grinned.“I should probably get back inside though, I left my hot pot going, and I don’t feel like burning the place down. I don’t know if the folded furniture would react like paper, or what.” She climbed down a few branches before looking up. “It was nice talking to you.” She smiled, before leaping to the ground. “See you later.” She waved before making her way back to the building.

"I'll be here for a while longer. Thanks for stopping by," he called after her before staring back into the skies. After a couple seconds, he took a deep breath, moved around on the branch he was sitting on until his back was against the trunk, leaned back, and closed his eyes, a smile on his face.

[+transcon+]

Dawn had been fast approaching. The gargoyle was set up with accommodations on the top floor of the complex complete with a balcony and double doors that led out to it. The place was bland. He couldn't afford furniture since he couldn't use them. He couldn't afford plates and flatware since he didn't need them. Computers, old consoles, a twenty-four inch television... those were the basic elements of his quarters.

The way he used them was another matter. He had to get safeties for his claws. He couldn't type, use a phone, pick up a television remote, turn a door knob, or even shake hands with someone without the risk of cutting or piercing with those terrible diamond claws. The safeties were oak sheaths, designed specifically to slide snugly over the claw edges and tips.

He also needed to get a tailored wardrobe. Loincloths split in the back for the tail were draped over leather belts. The belts had holsters or hard leather pouches for carrying what ever personal effects he desired. A series of long coats split down the entire length of the sides, and was fastened at the waist by another belt.

Pants were an impossibility due to his digitigal feet. At least the long coat and loin cloths made him feel clothed for the most part. Transcon always hated showing more than just hands, neck, and head. Now, the legs, arms, not to mention the wings and tail were also exposed.

He never felt comfortable wearing shorts.

As for duties, he couldn't go anywhere unless under specific directive. Although he could move through a crowd completely unnoticed, security cameras, tourists, and anything else recording on film would confirm his existence when it was viewed at a later time. Thus, he needed to stay on the grounds. Transcon was on the nighttime security watch.

How he disliked his new life. Torn away from being behind the wheel, he felt like his freedom was stolen from him. On the many occasions when he owned old beater cars that had failed him on the side of the road, he had taken public transportation. He was sickened every moment of the ride. The first chance he had to repair or replace his vehicle, he did so. Now, with wings and a tail, fitting into a cab again was out of the question. This was worse than being stuck with public transportation.

Having wings was like being stuck with riding a bike. Only worse: under his own power WITH altitude. The nice things was, according to the reports from the tests he underwent during the two weeks, he seemed tireless. His stamina levels were off the charts! He could maintain a good pace in the air, but it just didn't feel the same.

Transcon mainly kept to himself the whole time. He didn't know if he was just becoming self-conscious or antisocial. Either way, he wasn't noticed by most except for that one NSA fellow who could see others' powers and nothing else.

The psychological examination reports indicated that depression was setting in with indications of other minor neurosis growing to compensate for the increasing distance required of him set between his former life and the current. No longer could he drive. No longer could he associate with his family. No longer could he attend his live action role play sessions.

"If what you say is true," commented Agent Becker during their last session before tonight, "then if Mr. Bauer is dead to the world, perhaps finding the new you would be in order. I know its only been two weeks since we left the East Coast, and things have been rather hectic. You haven't been afforded much time to yourself. What do you think?"

"I think you're telling me to take a day off?" he responded in his raspy vocal tone. Becker smiled as she detected his jest.

"I'm saying you should take a few days off." Transcon heard her speak, and his head lowered with a sigh in response. "You've been working here for the past two weeks non-stop. You said that your appearance is what's making you feel sluggish, yes?"

"Yeah, sorta," he grumped. "Ever since this, I no longer have the freedom I once had. I can't go out anymore. I can't go for a nice drive. I can't even go to the store to get beer."

"Have you thought about finding the new you that's inside?"

"What do you mean? Look at me."

"We've been over this before, Transcon. Let's get past what you are, and look at who you are. Who are you?" Becker had to ask the Impossible Question. No one can answer that for themselves. They could give their name, what they do, any rank, or where they see themselves. Those are all what they are, but not who. The gargoyle paused and frowned at his psychologist.

"You know that's a question that can't be answered," he grumped again while waving a sheathed talon at her.

"But, you know the answer when you find it, right? You knew what it was before you changed, didn't you?" Becker was right about that. It was a question that one can only answer for themselves. Not in the sense of words, but in the comfort of merely knowing. "So, why not find that answer again? You may find that you're more free than you think?"

The rest of that night was spent in his room. He spent that time in front of a blank television looking at his reflection in the glass. The gargoyle thought deeply about what Becker had told him. Mr. Bauer was dead to the world. But, Transcon was still alive and kicking right there in his apartment. 'But, were either of those names fitting for a creature like me,' he thought?

'Victor was the name given to me at birth,' he continued thinking as he stared at his reflection in the television glass. 'But, that was when I was human. Transcon was only an online identity. A handle. Something my net friends would know me by. That's what the exiles here know me as, but its sort of a bridge between the old life and this new one.

'I don't know. I'm horrible with names. Is a name really that important to identity? Who am I?' Images of the attack on the East Coast Facility flitted through his mind. Broken glass, members laying on the ground. Blood spilling, though little as it was. He remembered himself snarling and snapping at agents. He remembered stomping his foot down on the floor and demanding answers.

He remembered being a defensive monster.

'This isn't something that'll be answered over day,' he thought as a sigh pointlessly escaped his lips. He dug out his cigarettes and lit one between his lips. 'I'll just go with the flow and see what happens. Comfort with myself has got to come sometime.'

-------------------------------------------

(ooc: to keep time straight, the following night takes place after Arx's and Rip's conversation in the tree.)

Transcon awoke with a shake. The last thing he remembered before turning in for the night was stubbing the cigarette out in the ash tray. He had been getting better at feeling for when the sun was about to rise. He was usually accurate within a half-hour. That gave him time to prep himself for "bed". This involved a quick spray down and picking a corner to curl up in.

Another evening in Western Washington. Spokane to be precise. The winter months were approaching which meant longer nights. This also meant that Transcon could stay awake longer.

For this evening, he decided to take up Becker's advice only half way. He would 'patrol' the halls and premises, but this time (while indoors only) he made a conscious effort to keep his power of being ignored turned off. This way, he could see if people would really be interested in talking with the stone creature.

[+CEMP+]

The problem here with CEMP was, well, he was a simplistic person.

For one, he had been, at first, feeling unsure of what he should do with all the money that he was getting. Getting a thousand bucks a weeks wasn't something he was used to, especially, as he called it, in such an unorthodox manner. He expected to go to college, get a degree or whatever, and then get a nice job that paid him a similar amount. He never expected to get paid for gaining super powers.

More over, he was a cautious and picky person when it usually came to spending money. Admittedly, he did get the Wii and MP3 (I could be wrong on when the game was released), but nothing much else at the current moment. True, there probably a couple of other games he could probably get for the Wii, or his DS, but none of them hit home; CEMP relatively enjoyed buying a few games that he would almost always be able to chew his time on every now and then. Enough diversity that, when he felt finished with one game, and had a nice break from gaming, he might play another one.

Yes, there was the virtual console (He'd try to remember to get DKC 1), but at the moment, he just didn't feel motivated. There could be tons of choices, but the problem was, he liked his life simple. The few games that he had from at home, from Starcraft, Continuum, to Metal Arms: Glitch in the System (That games always cheered him up), and even some of his old N64 games. All he cared about was getting what he felt that he needed.

Although, that didn't seem to stop him from buy every Manga of Hellsing and Battle Angel Alita, as well as a nice fast computer, and even a PDA for some reason (Seeing one of his college teacher's using it just seemed to inspire him to get one). Ok, ok, so maybe he had spent quite a lot of money and he was just comparing his room some of the others t hat had a bunch of other fancy stuff.

Next thing on the list was a laptop. If he was going to some technopath dude, might as well have a laptop.

Still, all of this was a going little too fast for him. Even if it was two weeks, and being a person who ran network security wasn't exactly a job that he dreamed of getting. He missed his old life, where it was simplistic; even if he did have trouble trying to find the will to write.

Writing. That was one of the hobbies and parts of his future that he looked forward to. Being an industrial mechanic didn't seem to be problematic with, and he did enjoy it, but sometimes he wanted to look for something else. That something was writing, as it always gave him something out of the ordinary.

Yes, he could still write on his own free time, but the atmosphere for writing just wasn't there. It just didn't feel the same as it was at home. It was a like a mechanic and his tools; he could take someone else tools, but they just didn't feel right in his hands as his own ones did. And it wasn't just any of the physical aspects either, , but perhaps a family feeling that flowed into his room.

His room was a part of their house, and their house, in a way, was a part of the family. There was just something about his home that made him more capable of writing.

This led CEMP to feeling depressed, despite some of his initial feelings when first came with Cherice (Who was now dead, to his disdain. He was really intrigued with her before). This depression was probably what had made him slightly anti-social, or, in better terms, just less capable of taking the initiative to starting a conversation. He could say hi, but for some reason he wasn't able to push himself as h e used to.

It was probably the reason why he had gotten so many mangas to read. However, this depression to occasionally have some ill effects on his abilities. Sometimes computers became more sluggish while he was around, and some showed the same initiative as he did; they just didn't want to do their jobs. Some gave errors or other 'excuses', and CEMP would correct the many problems.

Trouble was, the problems kept coming, and it was soon noticed that these many forms of "odd behaviors" was no coincidence (Thankfully, and for reasons unknown, security not been compromised). His psychologist made a note in asking him about his condition.

"You're feeling depressed, aren't you?"

CEMP only nodded, knowing that he was beginning to obviously show signs.

"Listen, Tim, if that's what you want to be called, you have to solve this form of depression. I mean, why are you like this in the first place?"

CEMP gave a short explanation, and he just didn't feel right with his life turned upside down. His regular life had been "interrupted."

The psychiatrist sighed, "Listen, there really isn't much going back right now and you can't-"

"I know there isn't much going back," CEMP interjected, "but it's just...well, I guess I’m sort of finding it hard to adjust. It's just this feeling you get on you all of a sudden, and it's hard to shake off."

She sighed again, "Yes, but you have to find a way to adjust yourself. It's been too weeks, and from I've read from your previous reports, this isn't like you at all."

Yeah, this isn't like you at all, macho, said a voice from the back of CEMP's head.

They were both right. He normally didn't act like this, even in tough situations. It was just this one was an exception, and he was having a hard trying to. That was, until one day while on his computer trying to write something.

"Hey, get off that ass of yours and do something," said the Microsoft Word program to the idly depressed technopath, popping words in his own text with a will of its own.

CEMP blinked. Did he do that? No, not intentionally, but subconsciously. He was pretty sure of it. It felt like he had done it by some kind of will, but at the same it hadn't been his own will at all. It was like this alternative persona that was talking to, and his eyes only widened, knowing which subconscious persona was talking to him.

No...nonono, this is not happening, he thought, both in shock and amazement.

"Yes, it is happening jackass," said a gruff voice from the speakers; the voice that was unmistakable, to him, known as Colonel's Alloy's.

An air of embarrassment came over CEMP, Oh c'mon, not through the speakers, anything but there. Any other medium but the speakers.

“Nope kid, I’m using them, whether you like it or not, and it’ll probably give you a nice amount of unwanted attention.”

“Oh c’mon’,” CEMP protested out loud, “they’ll think I’m psychotic.”

“Hey, you’re already psychotic as it, with you being depressed. You disappointment me, I thought you could do better than this, with all those morals you set up in your head.”

Oh, those little morals of life, he thought, feelings completely stupid for forgetting them.

“Yes, that’s right soldier, now move an axle and start actually socializing. Doctor’s orders.”

“Can I just finish this one little paragraph first,” CEMP said in an attempt to procrastinate.

“NO!” the voice boomed loudly, despite the low volume setting the speakers were on, “Move out NOW.”

The voice did its magic. “S-sir,” CEMP said in an almost saluting fashion, left in a hurry, almost forgetting to lock the door.

There was a knock on Aiko’s office door, and CEMP’s voice came through it, “Hey, ummm, Aiko, it would it hurt to have a small chat.”

At almost the same moment, a simple dialogue box appeared on Aiko screen with the words “Pleeeeeeeeease. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, pretty please!” The message was accompanied by the almighty, all-common “Yes” and “No” buttons.

[~RipTheJacker~]

((Killer long joint post with Transcon.))
Rip crossed her arms and wandered through the hall. Her mind was fixed on the surroundings. She chewed on her finger in concentration, there had to be a way out. Not that she was planning to escape, it’s just…

Rip stopped, standing idly in the hall. She continued to glare at the floor in contemplation before looking up. She stared blankly at the statue while she carefully hid her gnawed finger behind her back.

“Hi…” She spoke dully.

"Hello," the gargoyle said with a wave of a clawed hand. "You look a little lost." Transcon had been wandering the halls himself for not very long.

Rip exhaled and drooped her shoulders. “It feels about that way, have you looked outside lately?” She let out a grunt of disapproval. “There’s miles and miles of land out there, and I’m bored out of my skull!” She waved her arms emphatically. “What about you?”

The gargoyle nodded and tugged on his jacket. The wings flexed a little as the tail slowly swished behind him. He took two steps closer to Rip, then lowered himself on his haunches to get more eye level with the younger Exile member.

"I do feel completely out of my element," he admitted. "But, it's the best I can do. There isn't much at all outside except trees and farmland. We just need to stick with it, and soon we'll figure something out."

Rip stayed silent for a moment before looking the Gargoyle in the eye. “Ok…”

“You look kind of lonely, want some tea?” She grabbed hold of his jacket and tugged lightly as she veered around him. “Besides, if you ruin my furniture,” she chuckled. “I can just refold it.”

Transcon blinked for a moment, then a small smile creased his face. It certainly was nice of her to invite him for company. For a while, the two of them had made small talk across chat programs. He, mainly building a repoir, her venting. Sometimes, just to talk about nothing in particular, other times to show off one another's artistic accomplishments. They seemed to get along well enough online. This, however, was unexpected. He always pictured Rip as someone who'd want to keep people at arm's length, but here she was inviting a stranger to tea.

"I would be honored," he nodded and offered an arm to escort the young lady back to her place. "Thank you."

Rip accepted the arm and smiled cheerfully. She pushed the door open and let go of his arm. “I’m gunna’ leave the door open in case Darthy and his brother, or EP saunters past and wants a cup.”

Rip glared at the remaining water as she poured it into the pot. She set the tea out carefully on the kotatsu before kneeling beside it. Filling each cup carefully, she watched the warm liquid tried to toss itself at the rim. Rip frowned.

“No one should be identifying with tea.” Rip’s mental kick to the head forced a small smile.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” She held out Transcon’s cup gingerly. “You’re doing ok, right?”

"Well, I'm doing well enough," the gargoyle sighed as he crouched down across from Rip. He leaned forward for balance, tipped his knees down to the floor, and stretched his tail out behind him. His wings folded back along his spine and jutted up behind his head. Then, carefully, he accepted the cup of tea she poured for him with sheathed claws gently gripping the cup.

Transcon had to think carefully about what he was about to say. First off, Rip was a minor. In the years he drove school bus, he knew that line very well like an old friend. However, Rip was a friend as well. They were both going through some rough times. He felt that being anything less would be disrespecting that repoir he'd built with her.

"I take that back," he admitted, "I could be doing a lot better." He tilted the tea cup upon his lower lip and allowed a little of the sweet fluid to pass over his teeth. After merely tasting it, he spit it back into the cup unnoticeably. "I'm a prisoner within my own body. I can't go anywhere without risking our cover being blown. Cameras and all that, y'know. At least I have clothes, now."

Rip gave a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s not the same, but there are people here you can talk to.” She ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “I wish I could help you.” She sighed.

"Nah," he shrugged with a smirk. "I can only help myself at this point. I'm stuck like this. I just have to figure out how to deal with it. How about you? How are you hanging in there? I know you're bored, but at least you can go shopping and hang out at coffee houses and such."

Rip let out a hiss. “I hate shopping, and don’t get me started on coffee houses. The only good thing about those is the free wireless.” She tested the tea carefully before continuing. “I miss my family. There aren’t many friends to miss though.” Rip scoffed. “It’s sad to say, but about 80% of them are here.”

She set the cup down and stared at it intently. “I miss hating my cat.” She lamented. “And I can’t help but be afraid that my health is going to get worse here. No motivation to do swordplay, no reason to make myself do things.” She sipped her tea again. “This place just makes me feel…” her voice trailed off. She spun the cup carefully in her hands and watched the tea jump at the sides again.

“Old.”

"Don't think of it as old," he said after tasting the tea again. "We are all starting over. You, me, your brother. Everyone here. New lives. The ones we had before are gone. At least, that's how I see it." He set the cup down and looked Rip over carefully. He knew of her weaknesses and strengths, and he felt as though he should be very careful around her.

"How do you see things?" He lowered his head and peered at her beneath his brow with emeralds staring at her.

Probably more pessimistic then I should.” Rip rested an elbow on the table. “I’ll get used to it over time I suppose. It’s just that it’s funny how life works.” She smiled wryly. “I always wanted to be a secret agent when I was a kid.” Rip laughed at herself. “The irony is now I am, and I don’t want to be.”

"Ah," he grinned. "When you were a kid, eh? When I was a kid, I wasn't sure what I wanted to be. I wanted to be a magic wielder. I wanted to be a cop. I wanted to be a flyboy. Then, I wanted to be a driver. Well, I guess I settled on driving. It was what I was good at. Now, I'm some sort of agent. So secret, I don't even know myself."

”I always got a kick out of that.” Rip examined her gnawed finger. “We spend our whole lives trying to find out who we are, only to discover on our death bed, that we were always sitting there.” She looked back at Transcon. “I’ve given up on that, we don’t need to find the glasses that have been on our face the whole time.” Rip winced and shook her head. "Here I go being philosophical; it's the tea, man..."

"It's more than that," he smiled. "C'mon. We've had these talks often. And, just as often, you weren't drinking tea, were you?"

Rip glared dryly. “I always have tea. You should see my killer of all mugs; the thing’s a whole pint.” She held her hands out to emphasize the size of her mug. “But it’s at home…” She drank the rest of her tea quickly. “These are more fun anyway…”

"Y'know," Transcon whispered, "you can be yourself here. No need to puff up your feathers around me." He relaxed some and his wings drooped a little.

"Meh, I don't know. I guess everyone’s busy trying to find those glasses. I'm just trying to figure out where I'm going. I hate being a night sentry. It’s not my thing. I'm built for fighting, but I loathe violence. I guess... I gue- ugh, I don't know.

"No, I'm not doing well."

Rip crawled around the kotatsu and wrapped an arm around Transcon’s shoulder. She sat back on the tatami and crossed her legs. “That’s really all I can think to do.” Rip lowered her head and sighed. “On the bright side, you do make a good Superhero;” Rip sat up on her knees and lowered her voice. “Artwork by day, Sentry by night!”

Rip sat back down on the mat and grinned impishly.

[~beflexor~]

(OOC: sorry it's so long, better go pee now because I am not stopping in the middle of this to wait for you )

"You wanted to talk to me?" Beflexor said, sitting in George Harris’s office. She didn't bother to hide her nervousness.

"Yes" Harris said, steepling his fingers, her suddenly reminded her a little of her dad. "You've been with us more than two weeks now, including our base in New York. I'm surprised with how well you have all been doing."

He motioned for her to look at his computer screen and she did so. Seeing a series of security cameras catching the various hijinks of the members. The NSA made it very clear that there would be cameras through the halls, outside, and in the living rooms of their apartments for security reasons. That didn't stop most of the Exiles from disabling most of them, along with using their powers, there was the occasinal accident, someone had put a nail right through the lens of the hidden camera to hang a picture.

Beflexor nodded. "Yeah, well, you got rid of any legal stuff that got in people's ways. Not that I had anything but one speeding ticket. Ever. Not only that but you're giving us a lot of money, more than we know what to do with." Knowing Jefe, he was probably playing Robin Hood with it and giving it back to the taxpayers.

"That's not what I wanted to talk about. I meant you've all been doing well with your abilities. Jessie's getting better able to control her fire, Aiko's learning at an interesting rate, mister Phil still manages to astound us, Yohan's been looking for Transcon all day, though I have a feeling that he's just looking in all the wrong places. They've all progressed..."

Beflexor beamed, she loved to hear when other people were doing well, especially her friends.

"...except you."

"What?" Was all she could manage to say.

"While you'd think it would be difficult to improve on teleportation, there are ways. Can you take someone with you by holding their hand? Touch an object and take it? Teleport to areas you've only seen in photographs or video recordings? Even your physical strength seems to be lacking to the point where you are, at best, a messenger. Your potential seems to be lacking."

He hesitated for a moment. "I've also been watching the night recordings and finding some very disturbing material." He clicked on a file on his computer, showing a recording of the night before. "You seem to throw on a cloak and go out late at night a lot and do...nothing. You just sneak around and dart into hidden places when someone is coming. Is there something you would like to tell me?"

The teleporter sighed, she was looking forward to doing the same thing tonight as well. She had a feeling Transcon was starting to catch on that someone was eluding his patrols at night. "Well, it's just something that I do. Stealth has been a hobby of mine since I was, what, fourteen? Besides, it's not like I'm doing anything wrong, if anyone catches me the only thing they're going to find is that I blush easily and that I'm embarassed."

"You've also refused a psychological examination."

She refused to get anywhere near people like that. She practically had a psychologist phobia. Her family history had never been the cleanest slate when it came to insanity, and, no matter how they played it, only Beflexor knew if she was crazy. Texts be damned, she wasn't going to be popping any pills, it's turn into some kind of Equilibrium shit. So, Beflexor just smiled in an obviously fake manner and nodded.

Harris sighed and slid some papers across to her. "Here. These are documents that release you from any National Security Agency ties. You will not be bothered by us again since we’ve seen what you can do, and what kind of person you are, and believe that you are no threat to the government, civilians, or yourself.”

“You’re firing me?” She asked, focusing on the carpeted floor and trying not to cry.

“I’m afraid so, yes. You lack of potential, coupled with your refusal for examinations and odd behavior, have forced me to do this. You have forty-eight hours to pack your things and leave.”

Beflexor looked at the papers for several moments before suddenly grabbing them and throwing them against the wall. She teleported.

“Although she’s really not considered a threat. She’s an emotional one, that girl.”

Harris jumped in his seat at the sudden appearance of Yohan. “God damnit, I thought you were looking for Exile Transcon!”

“Aye, I am, can’t find marble hide nor jewel-encrusted tail of that talented sonovaB!*ch!” He laughed, slapping his knee. “Like a grown up game of hide ‘n seek!” His face grew serious as he looked at the empty chair that Beflexor had occupied moments before. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I already am.” He said as he pulled out a small device.

Before either of them could say anything more though, it went dead.

~

Beflexor walked the streets of a city. It didn’t matter which one, she’d been to so many big cities lately that she didn’t know which was which anymore. Even now she was still in awe of just how odd big cities were. To her, they were fictional, something that only existed in movies and books. She did know that they were like entirely different worlds than the one she knew. Big city people were different.

She saw grungy looking man making a beeline for her and, before he was even within a hundred feet, she teleported.

Good luck finding me now. She silently said to what she guessed was a mugger while she continued her walk down a street, halfway across the country from the previous one.

It sucked. Sucked! Once again Beflexor had something that everyone else was better at. No matter if it was drawing, cooking, or even having super powers, there would always be someone better than her. She usually found solace in reading (when people did things better than her in books, it was cool) or in writing.

Writing was always the one thing she took pride in and held close to her heart. She often found herself tripping over her own words when she spoke, or was struck dumb when she tried to explain things. When she wrote though, it was like all of her smarts managed to make their way down her fingertips and put her in a trance of typing. She could type for hours, people who caught her unaware were astounded at how fast she could type, especially since her fingers were placed in an odd and seemingly random manner on the keyboard.

Speaking of catching her unaware.

Someone grabbed onto Beflexor’s wrist and yanked her into a car.

A cold, metal handcuff made its way onto her wrist while the other end went on part of the seat in front of her. Once again her habit of spacing off got her into trouble.

Someone put a hand around to the back of her neck and ran their fingers through her hair.

“I would love to see you teleport this car somewhere." Came a breathy voice next to her. "Of course, you’d have to be on the outside, and we had to take precautions.”

Beflexor tried to teleport anyway. Her vision blurred for a moment and it felt like her arm, the one with the handcuff, was trying to be pulled off, she cried out and found herself still in the vehicle. The skin on her wrist was raw and bleeding from the handcuff.

“Hey! Hey! Take it easy! We don’t want you to get hurt!”

While Beflexor didn’t have the super power of being able to give people death glares, she certainly came close. Other than her looks, that was another thing she had inherited from her mother. She glared at her captor, mustering up all the anger she had ever felt before.

Her captor…was actually kind of cute.

She was taken aback a little, and her glare was broken. After all, it was a bit of a spell that required concentration. He had messy dark blond hair (or was it light brown?), perfect sapphire eyes, and a muscled build without looking chunky.

"Well hello." He said, using his free hand to bush the hair out of her eyes. "Finally decided to slow down did you? You must be Beflexor. People call me Hunter. It's not any dangerous nickname, just my last name. I'm with the Greys and, correct me if I'm wrong, but the NSA seems to be telling you and your freinds an awful lot of bad things about us." Hunter smiled. "It's not really fair to choose a team before seeing both sides. Let me show what we're really like."

While Beflexor was normally very creeped out by anyone touching her, he seemed to find her spots. She was like a cat that enjoyed having her neck scratched, her hair was her main spot. She leaned toward him.

And everything went dark.

~

Hello Darthy, lovely weather we're having. Came a voice in his head. Oh, but it's about to get a whole lot worse. Exile Team...assemble.

Along with apartments and a payroll, everyone was also required to keep on there person a communicator. Just like some of the Exile's had requested, they had a way to stay in communication at all times.

Neil's voice came in on all of them now.

"I hope you're all listening right now. Beflexor's been kidnapped in Chicago, we don't know how or why, but we're sending a team to investigate the matter. I want you all to just go about your routines, check in with my dad, Agent Benson, if you have any further questions. Do not try to do anything."

The voice continued in Darthani There's something they're keeping from you and your friends. Hmm, what could it be? Oh, I know, what was Beflexor doing in Chicago this time of day? They don't make her deliver things twenty-four hours. And why Benson? Why not...George Harris? They don't want you to go our there and find her yourself because, face it, you're prisoners. When was the last time you were actually allowed to leave? For people with superpowers, they sure are keeping you on a tight leash.

We're North, through the woods. There's a cave just two day's walk. You'll have to spend a night under the stars but hey, not like anything can mess with you guys, right?

You just gotta get together and escape first...

~

Another voice began in CEMP's head, it sounded exactly like Cherice.

Your view of yourself never ceased to amaze me. CEMP, hey, did you hear Neil? One of your own, an Exile, is gone! Normally I would have to agree with him, but this is Beflexor we're talking about, I read her file. She's so much like you, but even you have managed to find some social strength. Do you really thing she's going to last very long?

You guys have to get out of here, make a plan with Aiko. She's obsessing about that attack, c'mon, get her to doing something productive. Who's more likely to get Beflexor back, a team of NSA agents? Or the superpowered Exiles?

I still have faith in you CEMP.

~

"Are we really going to look for her?" Benson said to Agent Harris.

Harris shook his head. "No. Even if this had anything to do with the Greys, it's a waste of time. We need to focus on the other Exiles. They're too important. Start a curfew, anyone caught outside their apartment after dark, even Transon, will be detained. I want it in effect immediately. This curfew includes Transcon."

"Yes sir." Benson saluted and told the Exiles the news over the communicator.

[+transcon+]

"On the bright side, you do make a good Superhero," Rip grinned impishly as she sat up on her knees and lowered her voice. “Artwork by day, Sentry by night!” Rip sat back down on the mat and continued that impish grin.

"I suppose you're right in that aspect," Transcon relented. "But, really? I'm not that great at being a sentry or anything. I never wanted to work security detail or anything of the sort. Do I look like the physical type to you...." he slowed down the pace of his speaking after he realized what he just said.

"I suppose you haven't forgotten about the Chevy Nova getting thrown through a wall, have you?"

Their conversation was halted when he heard a voice come over their com-links. It explained how Beflexor was kidnapped in Chicago, Illinois. He wondered what the hell she was doing out in Chicago in the first place, and how they knew this happened at all.

Then the news of the curfew hit. Transcon was stunned. This meant that he would never leave the apartment for an indefinite amount of time. It could be days. Weeks. Hell, the crew he believed would be sent to search for Beflexor might never find her. And, on another note, what was the condition to be met to lift the curfew? There was none stated.

"Okay, Rip," he quietly grumbled. "I think I'm officially pissed." Having a curfew at night limiting people to their apartments practically immobilized the gargoyle. He couldn't move during the day. At night, he would have been banned from leaving his apartment.

"Okay, so if I break curfew, they're going to detain me? If I don't break curfew, I'm detained anyway, right?" Confusion was beginning to wash over his face. He had it. Too much time being cooped up in a strange place and strange abilities. He was going to Harris' office to give him a piece of his mind. "If you would please excuse me. I promise I won't do anything rash. But I want to try to reason with him.

"Thank you for the tea." When he set it down, it could be seen that the fluid level hadn't gone down in the cup at all, despite how much he had brought it up to his lips to sip. And, in that moment, he simply vanished.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Transcon, where the hell do you think you're going?" Agent Becker called out. She was actually on her way to his apartment to check on him. She heard about the curfew from another agent's mind directly, and immediately she knew what sort of condition that would leave the marble gargoyle. She was running to catch up with him despite his own efforts to be ignored.

"Figured you'd find me," he groused. "I'm going to try and reason with that man."

"I don't think you should."

"Why not!"

"Because he probably thinks the rest of you are too worth while to lose."

"Oh, I see. Beflexor isn't worth the effort of keeping around, is she? Since when did he get that choice?"

"I just think that maybe you should comply for now, and-!" Transcon spun on a toe digging a toe-claw into the flooring. His wings were flared and his tail lashed. He was down right pissed, and Becker only antagonized him.

"And, what the F@*k do you expect me to do? Huh! Stay holed up in my damn prison cell never to come out? Is that it!" Becker suddenly felt three inches tall as the gargoyle's temper was finally unleashed. "Following through with that directive will certainly make me a prisoner. I can guarantee you that!

"I'll be god damned if I'm just gonna sit still in my god damned jail cell waiting for some god damned so-called agents to bring me back Beflexor!!!" Becker was pale white. Being a psychic, she could sense that his mind was blurred with rage. She could not get a clear read on his train of thought. What he was spouting was purely stream of consciousness. It was all of his frustrations of the life he was put in against his will finally spilling over with one simple push that Harris started, but Becker finished.

"Damned if I do," he snarled, "damned if I don't. Either way, I'm detained. F@*k that shit." He turned and strode towards Agent Harris' office while leaving behind a fear-stricken Becker. She had never sensed that much rage off of anyone before. To her, it was one of the most terrifying experiences she had ever faced. She hoped that whatever was behind that stone wall of his, it would hold up while the gargoyle faced with Harris.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in a whimper, trying not to dare the gargoyle to turn his wrath upon her.

-------------------------------------------------------------

There was a gentle knock at Agent Harris' door. 'Don't do anything you'll regret. Play it smart,' Transcon reminded himself as he leaned against the door jamb.

"It's me. Transcon. Mr. Harris? We need to talk. It's important."

[~Arx Fatalis~]

(This is wrapping up the evening before Transcon's and Rip's joint.)

Floating... Arx was floating. High above the landscape, smiling at the people below him... he saw the tree he had crouched in earlier. The building all of the Exiles shared as living quarters. The towns on the border of the land they lived on.

Then, as he looked up... everything went dark. He blinked, but the blackness stayed.

Specs of light pierced the darkness, and it took him a few seconds to figure out he had fallen asleep. He was now gazing at an unhindered starry sky, and he smiled as he could instantly begin pointing out constellations, the most prominent being Orion the Hunter, his favorite. Slowly, he stretched and slid down off of the branch, clinging onto it with his arms. Then he lowered his feet onto another branch and continued worming his way down the tree until he was on solid, boring ground again. He sighed, pulled up the hood on his jacket, and walked back into the apartments.

He didn't meet anyone on the way in, but even if he had, who would he have talked to? The only three people he'd even spoken to in person were Norcar, Rip, and Beflexor... 'Flex was always so busy, though, and Norcar probably wanted to be left alone... Rip was nice enough, but he didn't think she would want to talk to him. He wasn't interesting enough to merit a whole second conversation.

What Arx would have done to see his friends, family, his girlfriend, Jamie...

Sighing deeply and wiping tiredness from his eyes, he ripped the Post-It note off of his door and crumpled it up, pulling the door behind him as he entered his bland room. He pressed the power button on his PC, shutting it down, hanged his jacket on the chair, flopped down on his bed, and stared at the ceiling.

The same, old, boring ceiling.

Suddenly, a fit came over him; he had an idea. A daring one, something he hadn't done since his pre-teen days.

Why stay in a boring room when the world outside it is so much more interesting?

He jumped off of his blue-blanketed bed and grabbed his jacket, putting it back on quickly. Pulling another Post-It note off of the stack on his desk, he scribbled something on it and stuck it to the outside of his door, then ran back and grabbed a notebook and pencil. Ever so slowly, he turned the knob on the door and closed it silently, walking back toward the apartment exit.

The newest Post-It read thus: Gone back outside. If you need me, look to nature's wooden peaks for the answer.

(He loved writing riddles, even simple ones.)

Hooded and grinning, Arx made his way back to the old oak tree. He crouched down, then jumped and snagged the first branch, like before, and climbed back up to the same spot he was in before. The big branch was large enough to keep him comfortable, and the leaves left on the tree's distant sticks and twigs allowed him to see the apartments, and camouflaged him well enough with the tree. Dangling his feet in the air, his legs straddling the branch, Arx leaned back against the trunk once more and pulled out his notebook.

His artistic hobby wasn't drawing, or painting, he didn't have the patience and skill with his hands as some of the others did. No, Arx loved to compose music.

If one were to venture outside from the apartments that night and walked toward the forest, they would have head the mad scribbling of pencil on paper, an occasional laugh, and several moments of him humming parts to make sure they sounded right. After an hour or two, he slipped the notepad into his jacket and yawned. Then, he closed his eyes, and the dream of floating began all over again.

===============================================

He was awakened by the sounds of nature in close proximity. As he stretched, he laughed a little bit. What a wonderful night that had been! Soooo much better than laying in that bland bedroom of his for hours; this little adventure had been just like camping. But, he was hungry now, so he decided to climb down and get some 'grub.'

One 'brunch' later, he was on his computer, throwing his creations into Anvil Studio, the program he used to make MIDI files of his compositions. The biggest problem was that a lot of his songs just felt like there was something missing, and he spent hours rearranging and recomposing trying to get that missing something in. Inevitably, he failed and gave up for the day.

Then the news came.

"I hope you're all listening right now," Arx's communicator chimed. "Beflexor's been kidnapped in Chicago, we don't know how or why, but we're sending a team to investigate the matter. I want you all to just go about your routines, check in with my dad, Agent Benson, if you have any further questions. Do not try to do anything." The communicator fell silent.

Right after that message, another one came, declaring the news of the curfew. Arx flipped.

"What in the nine hells is going on?! First Beflexor goes missing, then there's a curfew?! I will NOT be damned to this F@*king apartment every day!"

He stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind him, fuming. Aiko's room was his destination.

A quick succession of knocks echoed through the hall as he rapped on her door. "Aiko! It's Arx. We need to get everyone together and talk about this. We have to get Beflexor back."

And if no one feels like doing anything about it, then by God, I'll do it myself.

[+Aiko+]

Aiko was snoozing on her desk with her head propped in her hands when she heard a knock on her door. She lifted her head up and rubbed her eyes. She seriously needed more sleep. This nocturnal schedule of hers was her way of trying to show Transcon she cared, even if she didn’t see much him lately. But she wasn’t a nightowl by any stretch of the word, and the transition hadn’t gone very smoothly.

“Hey, ummm, Aiko, would it hurt to have a small chat?” came a muffled, familiar voice through the door. She grinned, happy for the break. Most of the other Exiles seemed to be pretty shy around her and she rarely got visitors. She couldn’t really blame them, although she found it silly that they treated her like some sort of authority figure when all she did was run an online forum. It wasn’t like she was a cop or anything.

Her computer beeped and she cast it a quick look, wondering what made Windows complain now. She did a double take when she saw the pop up, then remembered Cemp’s ability. With a chuckle, she clicked the ‘yes’ button at the same time she leaned back and pulled the door open to her small office. “C’mon in.”

They didn’t even get to start a conversation when her emergency radio went off, announcing Beflexor’s disappearance and their curfew. Her face turned bright red and she rose to her feet just as Arx slid to a stop in her doorway.

"Aiko! It's Arx. We need to get everyone together and talk about this. We have to get Beflexor back!”

Aiko was livid. The NSA had been doing a piss poor job of everything from the beginning! First they hunted down and attacked them without even trying a peaceful approach first, they scared everybody to death, then they basically kidnapped them to a military base, their security sucked ass and allowed her to get hurt and all the Exiles to experience their first live fire, and now this?! What the hell were they doing?! Sitting on their asses like the overpaid jerkwads they were?!

“I’ve had it up to here with these assholes. Let’s go have a little talk with Mr. Harris, shall we?”

She stormed down the hall, took a right and then a left, and rounded another corner before she arrived at his office. Transcon was already standing there, rapping the wooden door carefully with the back of his marble knuckles.

“Don’t be polite to the shithead!” She reached right around Transcon, twisted the doorknob, and threw the door open so violently that the hinges groaned in protest. Without giving Agent Harris a chance to regain his composure, she walked forward and slammed both hands down on his desk and leaned over it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You guys would be thrown in jail if you weren’t above the law for all the shit you’ve pulled, and now you’ve lost Beflexor, in Chicago of all places, and you’re going to impose a curfew on us here in Washington?! Which effing planet are you on?! Screw the curfew and screw you guys, I’ve never met such an incompetent group of tuxedoed scuzbuckets in my entire life! Everything that has happened to ALL of us so far has been completely YOUR FAULT! Now, Mr. Harris, sir, you better think of something to clean up your reputation right now or I’m taking these people and leaving, and there’s no way in hell you can stop us. So, what’ll it be, sir?!”

Aiko had never been so mad in her life.

[+Aiko+]

THIS ROLE-PLAY HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED TO THE NEW FORUM!! GO POST THERE!