Whew, finally finished the chapter.
Sorry about the wait my lovelies. Senior year doesn't exactly make me have time to focus on fanfiction. This, and the fact that I'm also working on original piece. Don't worry, I'm not giving up on this, I'm just sad I started getting fast upload comments right when they began to slow down =_= curse my need to have a good education.

Anywho, hope you like it. I'll begin the next one as soon as I can, I promise.

Ta-ta!

Damien sighs, welcoming the extra air after holding it for so long in concentration. He is finally finished, however, despite his bitterness from putting so much effort into it. He rarely stays on one idea for longer than a day, this being one of the very few exceptions.

He hears footsteps patter from the top balcony, smirking as he hears a couple curses in French. Clara going down the stairs, "Is Aiden back yet? The storm is horrible."

The man has not noticed how severe the storm has gotten. However, now that he has pulled from his focus he hears the howling wind and booming thunder. This does make him wonder where Pearce could be, because he is certainly not here.

"Nope. He and his pet mouse aren't here." He says, looking over and counting up in his head for her frown. It comes in two and a half seconds.

"That can't be good…" Clara sighs, stepping beside Damien, looking at the mess of wiring chaotically spread about the table, "What exactly have you been doing this whole time?"

"What I've been doing the past five fucking weeks," Damien scoffs at the sheer audacity of it, "I finally got all the wiring right…"

Clara lifts the small, unassuming handle. It is about the size of Damien's forearm and wrapped in black leather. She raises an eyebrow at the older man, "I'm going to assume this is more than it seems."

"No, no I just spent that long making a cool-looking handle," Damien takes it from her, stepping away from the table, "Nothing is how it seems in this world, sweetheart." He holds out a handle, a satisfied smirk appearing as the partisan blade retract from each side. He watches Clara's expression as they both hear a static zapping dance along the weapon.

"It's a fancy Taser then?" She observes crudely, but her eyes reflect more interest than her joking tone gave away. Damien always likes when people try and hide feelings from him. It is more satisfying in the long run when someone is embarrassed to be impressed.

Clara summons the weapon to her, mocking swings of the electrified batons, "Why did you make this?"

This, Damien sighs at, part of him wishing she wasn't that curious, "It's for that kid. Aiden wanted him to have a weapon."

The young woman chuckles, "Wait…did you…"

"Yeah, yeah, I listened to his request. I can't help it. He's so adorable when he's clingy, even when he's trying not to show it."

"That was his feeling?"

"We've been over this. He's in love," Damien states, his mind laughing at the unorthodox thought. He remembers Aiden speaking to him late at night, his voice strung like it always was: direct, demanding, flared with intimidation and power.

Laced with otherworldly protectiveness.

Damien hadn't dared mention a single word of his emotions, lest he run away with an argument that would have gone downhill fast. He is perfectly content in having Pearce ignorant, even if it is for something as silly as unadulterated infatuation. The mentor pretended to be unaware of. Aiden thinks he hides his feelings so well, but Damien has known him a long, long time. He knows all his tricks. Most he taught to him in the first place.

"They better be OK out there…it isn't like Aiden to take so long," Clara speaks her worry, taking little time to figure out how to close the weapon up.

"It isn't like him to cart his boyfriend around in a wicked storm either," Damien points out, guiding his creation back to him, chuckling at Clara's irritated look, "What? I can't call him that?"

"You don't know if it's like that," She says, but there is a ridiculous amount of doubt in her eyes. Clara is not stupid. She knew just as well as Damien what is going on.

"Can you stop deluding yourself and just find it cute like most women?" Damien suggests, leaning against the table, "I thought you'd be happy for him."

"You…you know Aiden. This will distract him, he gets really protective."

"Perfect love only brings strength. If you've read shitty romance novels."

"And I assume you know exactly what perfect love is?"

Damien watches her with a growing smirk, "Can't say I do."

He watches the expression on the young woman's face change, only slightly, but there is a change. She rolls her eyes before looking up as the boxcar rumbles up with the thunder, "Aiden's back."

Clara goes up the stairs while Damien stretches his sore muscles, a numb pain levitating from his shot shoulder. He curses at it, as if it could get offended. Right as he drops his arms he hears a shrill scream morphing into livid French.

The man jumps up, hearing shuffling footsteps. He grabs his creation, ducking under the balcony against the walls of the giant metal cylinders. He believes this place used to be a refinery of some kind. He sets the weapon behind one of the barrels, right as he does a body falls from the side of balcony, several needle-like knives lodged in his back.

"You bitch—!"

"Oh please, he asked for it!"

Damien couldn't help but smile at the sheer poison in her voice. She seemed like such a nonviolent girl before.

There is noise of a struggle, far more voices flooding from the entrance of the boxcar. His eyes train toward the stairs. One hooded figure rolls down them unceremoniously whilst two more drag Clara with increasing effort. There is a cloth around her eyes.

"Could really use the Visionary here…" Damien mutters under his breath, moving deeper into the darkness. These men were not part of the Club, he could tell just from the energy. They are a lower class group, but how did they get here?

If Clara is panicking she doesn't show it, at least in her powers. Lesser Aeros would be throwing all kinds of things around trying to hit a target haphazardly despite being blinded.

Then one of the men speaks with shaky determination, "Where is Brenks?"

Well, they are looking for him, unsurprising.

"How am I supposed to know?" Clara asks viciously, "He skipped town ages ago as far as I know."

"You're an idiot if you think he left. You know he sold out the psychics to Blume?"

There is a pause, genuine confusion in Clara's voice now, "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you been in the city, girly?" The man says with perfect loathing, "The police are rabid with his frequencies, they know it weakens us."

This revelation spikes curiosity in Damien. He did create a way to set off high frequencies, but if they thought he would sell that kind of information to police then they clearly didn't know him too well. Who would do that? The only one that could would be a psychic.

"I know he's here," The leader continues after Clara is silent, "He's hiding like he always does. I bet he won't even come out if I shoot your brains out."

"Oh. I see how it is." Damien mumbles, surprising even himself with the immediate desire to help Clara. It isn't even thinking of how royally furious Aiden would be if he let her get hurt, he just wanted to help her.

He lifts his pant leg, pulling two small, bladed throwing stars from the side, tossing them over his shoulder to float close to his back, "I need to take care of some misplaced aggression."

The mentor makes a point to make his entrance noisy, his hands over his head, "Over here."

The men all face him with varying degrees of surprise and, hilariously, fear. Damien eases into his usual smirk, "Threatening a woman that just slaughtered one of your men is probably a bad idea."

Some of the strangers glance toward the blood soaked body and then back with even more anger. He likes them angry.

"Why did you do it, Brenks?" The leader asks with a rather adorable strength in his voice.

"I didn't do anything. I actually have no fucking idea what you are talking about," Damien speaks the truth, "But you don't believe me, do you?"

"Of course not!"

"And you're going to kill me, right?"

In answer, the leader pulls out a pretty gold pistol.

"Of course you are. Well," Damien lets one of his throwing stars snap into its full size, it flinging into the chest of one of the members with clean efficiency. He takes his second in his hand, grinning at the man's now shocked expression and says gently, "Be careful now. I hear these fights get pretty messy."

~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~

It isn't until they reenter the back door of ConneXion that Jay begins to lose his adrenaline. The rain is relentless now, stabbing down in spiky sheets that iced the fire in Jay's blood. Now, out of the rain, is when he finally felt it. He looks over at Aiden, just as soaked but not shivering as he is.

"Do you feel anything?" Jay asks, genuinely curious. He sometimes wonders if the Fox is even human.

An oddity occurs as the Fox smirks gently, walking down the hall, speaking bluntly and slyly, "I did, earlier."

And just like that the cold vanishes.

"I feel you are being a bit out of character to your usual 'I don't give a fuck' attitude," Jay laughs, "Dare I say you are being almost normal."

"I'm not a monster, Jay," He says simply, looking up at the ceiling as thunder crashes, "I have emotions. I am just very particular when using them."

"How can you even do that?" The younger inquires, beginning to inspect his mask he had just been able to snatch from the ground as they ran from the storm, "I've never been able to control my emotions."

"You've never had a reason to," Aiden stops fully, his eyes shadowed by his hat. There is hesitation in his next words, "You saw everything?"

Jay knows he is talking about the flashback. It has to be. It is the only subject he has ever seen him pull away from; the only moment other than just a few minutes ago were he felt actual weakness from the man. He nods slowly, saying, "I faded out of it when…the police, ah, they were pointing guns at you."

Aiden is silent, staring at the opposite wall of the small hallway. The younger could tell just from the expression that he is remembering.

"What happened…after you…?" Jay trails off, envisioning Aiden pulling himself from the wreckage of the explosion, his niece bloody and long gone in his arms. It seems almost dramatic, like something from a book or distant fantasy.

He looks back at Aiden, but their eyes don't meet. He watches the same wall, speaking with the roughness of a struggling heart, "I snapped."

Jay feels a spike of pain in his head, voices and noises filling the empty space of the hallway. Screams of people, police orders, crashes and roaring waves. His eyes widen, looking at Aiden, "You took down the whole boardwalk…didn't you?"

"Yep," Aiden surprisingly answers almost immediately, "Someone put a hit on me."

"Who would do that?"

The older man leans against the wall as he says, "I never used my powers. Not much anyway before then. I didn't want to be a part of it. I was like you, Jay. I kept everything inside. Except for when it was voluntary."

"Why wouldn't you want to use powers like yours?"

"I was the only one that had them, besides my father. I didn't want to put my family in danger. And then I met Damien."

"Was he a criminal?"

"Yes…at least in the eyes of the police. He found me, he said my aura was something that couldn't be ignored. He offered to teach me the things he knew. But I refused."

"You did?" Jay frowns, "Did he…?"

"No…no he didn't do anything. He is the one that warned me…he said that I was far too lucky that he found me first. That if I refused someone else might not be nice and will just want me out of the picture."

"You didn't believe him…did you?"

"Of course not. How could I?" Aiden's voice grows tenser, "I killed a lot of people on that boardwalk, Jay. It was…ugly even for my standards. Some weren't even cops, some were just…random civilians that got in my way. I had no control over what I was doing, I was just…angry. I wanted to hunt them down, every single person that caused that explosion. I found Damien…he helped achieve every ounce of revenge I could possibly muster."

"Did you succeed?" Jay walks closer, sitting on an abandoned speaker. Despite the little expression on Aiden's face, he could feel pain emitting off him like a strange energy. He knows how he feels, perhaps not through experience, but something else entirely.

"I'll tell you that I got to the man who threw the grenade. His name was Maurice. I didn't know what I was expecting. I hoped it would be someone with no regret, some monster I would have no problem killing like every other person involved," Aiden laughs shortly, shaking his head, "He was just a man with some debt he had to pay. He told me he saw that girl and couldn't shoot me. He threw that grenade hoping to kill us both. Obviously it didn't go as he planned."

Jay closes his eyes, listening to the distant voices of past events. He could almost see this Maurice character, his voice strained and pathetic in attempts to justify what he did. Aiden silent with a one brazen sword trained on him as he pours out his excuses with a broken spirit. Eventually, Aiden turns away, taking the sword from the air and walking into shadowy air.

"You didn't kill him." He states, opening his eyes again, the visions somehow not giving him much pain this time. Almost as if it is natural.

"No. I didn't. There was nothing left in me at that point. I was done searching for vengeance, trying to drag something back that was already long gone," He looks at Jay briefly, then back at the wall, "Damien wanted to go further. He is not a criminal, but he loathes how the gifted are treated. He found his only outlet was through violence. He thought that to be the only cure. I didn't agree…and we fought."

"You fought him?" Jay suddenly remembers Damien's leg, the one crafted from metal, "You…"

"Yes…" He answers before Jay could finish, "I never liked Bone Devil work. I…never tried it. That was the only time I did. Crushed the bones to dust."

Jay feels his skin tingle from the image. He shivers inwardly, hoping to not see that flashback in his dreams one night. He feels Aiden's hand on his shoulder, something that relaxed his muscles rather than making them tense. He looks at the older man with a smile but frowns when it's not returned.

Aiden looks at him with growing concern. He lets go, moving away. There is something he is hiding, a phrase or sentence left unsaid. Jay didn't know why, but it seems to be the case.

"Aiden…?" He reaches toward the psychic but stops as Leon appears at the end of the hallway.

"What are you two doing back here?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, "I assumed you'd be chasing each other down to the Wards."

"I don't know if you noticed the storm outside," Aiden says sharply, "This is the closest place we could get to."

Leon's bright eyes move to Jay, as if to confirm the story. The young psychic nods in agreement. This make him recalibrate, sighing, "Fine," He directs his speech to Jay, "But if he is staying you better make sure he doesn't break anything else."

"I won't." Aiden answers, "You were in my way before."

"Yeah, whatever. A nice shove would be better than flinging me across the room," He rolls his shoulders as if to simulate where he suffered the most on impact before disappearing back into the main area.

Jay looks at Aiden with a raised eyebrow, "They aren't bad people."

"As I said, they were in my way."

"Ever heard of subtlety?"

"I get asked that a lot. I still don't know what it means."

Jay chuckles, jumping off the speaker and following Leon. Thunder and rain continue to bombard the outside, making a pattering and tempestuous rhythm on the ceiling.

"Jay…" Upon his name the young man looks up, recognizing a familiar accent. Wick sits at one of the tables by Sid, staring, wide-eyed, "You're…what are you…?" He trails off, looking past him as Jay feels Aiden's presence behind him, watching Wick with critical eyes.

"Oh…right…" Jay moves in front of Aiden, "Listen…I know you don't trust him but—"

"What are you doing here?" He questions Wick sharply.

"I could ask you the same question, mate," Wick says, confident yet still cautious, holding up his hands on the stool, "Came in here to hide from the rain."

"Right. What a coincidence."

"I'm getting the vibe that you don't trust me."

"Why should I?"

"What did I do, exactly?"

Aiden stops just before speaking, looking at Jay, then back at Wick.

Wick slowly frowns, "You…didn't tell him…did you?" He slowly gets off the stool, "I swear I didn't mean it, mate…"

"What is he talking about?" Jay asks in growing confusion, looking back at Aiden.

"Jay, he—"

"It was a mistake…please know that," Wick's eyes are pleading, but there is something…something off about it that Jay couldn't exactly pinpoint. It might just be his nerves as he speaks about it. Wick hasn't yet lied to him and he's never seen him this on edge.

Jay steps forward carefully, "What…did you do?"

Wick bites his lip, "I…" He looks down, hesitation with brief pause.

Aiden finally breaks the trailing pauses, speaking quickly, "He killed your mother, Jay."

~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~

There is a lightning fast flash of pain that rips through Damien's shoulder as he's slammed against the wall, a knife threatening to cut his neck. Guns had been promptly jammed for all players in the fight by various fits of psychic energy. Breathless as the fights have been there are little enemies left. Clara is across the blood splattered room with the last two. Certainly more came into the Bunker than Damien first anticipated. His throwing disks were currently incapacitated, one being embedded in the back of a man and the other stuck in a mess of knocked-over metal.

The enemy before him grunts, pushing the knife closer. Damien sighs, "Don't make me—you are so close…"

"To killing you," the man finishes before he can, the sharp metal blossoming red from his skin.

"Alright, fuck it." Damien shoves the man away eyes steely. He flicks his wrist curtly, hearing the sickening snap of the man's neck before he falls over. He notices Clara as she sends one man across the room, stabbing the other with one of her knives.

She looks across at Damien, her eyes bright and her breathing hard, "You were right about it being messy…"

"A bit too messy, really," The psychic looks around, "Pearce is gonna blame me for this."

"Well-"

"Oh don't even say it was my fault, sweetheart. I didn't tell anything to anybody. That weakness is too precious for me to just give away to the general public. Especially the police."

"I was going to say we should find whoever pointed the finger at you," She smirks slightly, "I never thought that you betrayed us. You aren't terribly stupid."

This left a sense of satisfaction in Damien. He returns the look, saying, "Right. Too bad we killed everyone."

Clara points to a moving figure that she had pushed back before, "That one is still moving."

Damien looks over toward the figure, heading toward him. The man moans, sitting up against the wall. His eyes are wide as the psychic steps to him, "Alright. Don't make this hard. Just tell us who mentioned me."

"You…you killed everyone."

"Yeah. We did. That doesn't answer the question though," Damien puts his hands in his pockets. Half his thoughts are amused by imagining how Aiden would handle a situation like this. Everything that involved even an ounce of human interaction consumed all his concentration. Especially when it had to be subtle. Luckily for something like relentless interrogation, it didn't need to be any of that.

Damien crouches by the man as he hears the small snap of some of his fingers breaking. He screams, holding his hand as he looks at the psychic with a terrified expression.

"I'm not going to go all psychological on this. We don't need this to get worse. Just tell me who sent you."

"N…no one sent us…h-he just said who would—"

Damien narrows his eyes, an action that makes the man cringe. He speeds up, "I-I don't know what he looked like…his face was covered but he…I think he had an accent."

"What kind?"

"I dunno! English…Irish?"

"Australian?" Clara suggests from the back.

Damien looks up, knowing exactly who she is referring to. This kid with the purple hair. The one he met before all this. He was clearly a Will Bender, considering his Aura, seeming to be afflicted to no kind of organization. Although, he was fully intrigued by the inventions of Damien's, asking questions the older man didn't fail in answering. He could remember regretting it. The kid played to his ego expertly.

"That little shit…" He mutters as he realizes this, standing. He plucks a gun from the ground as he does, looking at Clara, "That kid has to be the one."

"Yeah. He's the only one you were stupid enough to give away your secrets too," She crosses her arms, giving one of those skeptical looks women seem to do so well.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart," He turns, shooting the survivor cleanly in the head.

Clara shivers a bit as she looks around, seeming to just come to the revelation what just went down, "Do you think he was the one that told the police?"

"I don't know how he would. I never told him details about the high frequencies. He might be covering for someone else. Regardless, he started this."

"Jay said that he was a friend…maybe he thinks Jay is in danger here."

"Or he is a psychopath. The kid is a Will Bender, Clara."

"Not all Will Benders are psychopaths."

"But most are."

Clara walks past him toward the shot up reservoirs, picking up Damien's newest weapon, "Most Bone Devils are psychopaths too."

Damien smirks, "Ah, right, and 'I'm not one of them'. I know how this goes."

"No, no you are definitely a psychopath," She hands him the weapon, "So is Aiden. You're insane in your own unique ways. They just happen to be in the same interests as mine."

This hits Damien in a surprising way. Most find the aspect of their ways to be ridiculous and evil. He supposes that Clara isn't exactly a perfect angel either. She is right. They are both crazy in a variety of circumstances. The most curious to be seen is if Damien's guess about Jay's feelings for Aiden is actually fulfilled.

Aiden is not subtle, especially in emotions. That is a concept Damien could never control, like some raging tidal wave. Then again, Jay is similar. But instead of being uncontrollable in certain emotions, he was uncontrollable in all of them.

"Is that your thinking face?" Clara asks, snapping at him. Her smile falls a bit, "I'm worried about them."

Damien stretches, looking around at the wreckage for his disks, rain slicing at the windows, "I'm not worried about them at all. Opposites attract."

"Did you seriously just say that?" Clara chuckles, able to rip one of his disks from the wall.

"Hey, Clara, what makes steam?" The older man asks, observing a broken pipe spewing the common power source out in a small, white cloud.

"Fire and water," She answers casually, staring back.

Damien smirks, "Exactly."