The Hunt of Five 10
Five
"So, now that we've gotten all of your questions out of the way..." One says, sitting down and leaning back casually, propping her feet up on the small table in the room, parrel to the bed and on the wall beside the door, "how about I ask you a few myself?"
"Me?" I raise an eyebrow, bowing my head instinctively from instant withdrawal, "what's it to you?"
"You're part of the Garde, dumbass," she replies, rolling her eyes and folding her hands behind her- or his- head casually, "just like I was. I think I've got some kind of rights entitled."
"Maybe," I just shrug, averting my gaze, "what do you want to know?"
"...Ever got laid?"
"Excuse me?!" even if I am a virgin, my cheeks catch a bright red color and heat up tremendously.
"You heard me," she replies steadily, like it's as casual of a question as talking about the weather or something, "or are you deaf?"
"Shut up," I mumble, resting my elbows on my knees to support my upper body weight while keeping my gaze on the ground, "to answer your question, no."
"Oh..." she draws out the word, her smirk widening against the darkness of falling darkness that casts shadows in the room, as if she just figured everything out about me in an instant, "I get it."
"You get what?"
"You're innocent, aren't you?" she muses the question, "not quite introduced to all of the world's tricks and dirtiness..."
"What did you just call me?" I demand, getting to my feet on an instant.
Not being an innocent isn't the most wonderful thing in the world to live up to, but it is the truth. On average, I'm pretty level headed, but when it comes to underestimation, I've got minimal tolerance for it. Even if I always have had to hide myself from the humans and develop powers/Legacies alone, being taken for less than I really am is definitely one way to make me blow. Especially when it's coming from Number One, who is apparently dead and holding herself up in a Mogodorian traitor's body.
Even if I was innocent, she has no room to talk.
"Innocent," she replies easily, as if my rising frustrations have no effect on her, "you don't know how ruthless humans can be, do you?"
"Well, I've got my ideas," my tone has dropped to something close to a snarl, but not quite like that of a wild animal who is ready for attack, "judging on how I grew up with them, I do know."
She pauses, as if contemplating my words, "...Nah."
Ella
When Sarah has ducked us behind the building, I instantly squirm free of her grasp. After a quick scan of our surroundings to make sure no curious eyes were trying to catch a glimpse of what we were doing, I easily shape shift back into my original eleven-year-old form and look up to Sarah, suddenly feeling like I'm small all over again.
"Do you think they can handle all of those police officers?" even as I ask it, I already know the answer.
"Of course," she nods confidently, but there's even doubt/hesitance in her beautiful, wide blue eyes, "I mean….we all know they're capable of so much more than they seem on the outside sometimes."
"Good point, but I still want to help."
My place right now, though, is to stay out here and protect Sarah from any dangers that may arise. Even if these humans are just police officers, it would be very easy for one of them to call for backup while the others were preoccupied, which would mean we'd have to get as far away as possible as fast as possible. Six would probably turn John and Marina invisible, then Eight could probably transport Nine and himself away. Knowing them, we'd be out of state before dawn broke across the horizon.
Focus, Ella, I scold myself inwardly, just like Papa would have done if my mind wandered too much, you have to think about right now. Worry about later when it gets here.
He always stressed that it was very important to plan for the future, but to be able to live in the present at all times. It was so true that, if you got distracted for one second, you could be killed instantly with no clue of what would have happened. Sadly enough, that's exactly how he went; he acted on impulse, and now he's gone.
Gone.
The word doesn't sit right with me as I move in front of Sarah protectively. She's got guts and I like her, but her being a human makes her both vulnerable and a target. Just like the rest of us, she is being hunted both by the Mogs and the government; she is definitely one of us at this point for more reasons than John loving her.
Flashing blue and red lights dance in the distance as sirens begin to wail, making me tense and Sarah become pale. Turning halfway in her direction, I ask quickly, "Sarah, how good of an actress are you?"
Marina
Nine, naturally, heads for the biggest police officer with rolls of fat and a fierce expression on his face that almost challenged us from the start.
Six and John start for the two behind the desk, probably because they've both got a gun in each hand and starting to fire rapidly. As the bullets speed toward them, John starts stopping as many as he can with his telekensis, leaving Six to deliver a roundhouse kick to the first one's stomach. Both of them grunt as they hit the ground because of her tackle, obscuring my vision beyond the counter while John launches for the second.
Before I can turn fully, someone's arm folds around my neck with a jerk, yanking me off my feet and pinned me halfway to their torso. Grunting, I twist the best I can without breaking my neck, even though popping of my neck muscles brings searing pain I try to disregard as I struggle to concentrate. The person constraining me is the other female guard that came from outside, but I've barely got time to determine that before the force of her constraint on my airway causes my eyes to water and airway to shut off. Grunting in my throat as best I can in this position, my fingers fly wildly to grab her shoulders or arms and instead having them clasp at her hair. I'm not as strong, (or trained,) as the others, but with a heave, I manage to flip her over my shoulder halfway, which ends with me on my knees and her head smashing into the ground.
As I scramble to my feet, I feel a tremendous wave of guilt wash over me. This women is just a human who does what she's paid and trained to do, not a bloodthirsty Mog who wants nothing more than to eliminate my entire race. Sighing at her struggling-to-rise-again form once, I whirl around as the other smaller officer from outside lunges to tackle me and only meeting air. Before I have a chance to try for an attack in his direction, Eight has suddenly teleported beside him, surprising both of us and giving him time to deliver a forceful punch in the face, knocking out the officer instantly.
"You okay?" he asks, voice tinged with worry as he reaches to grab my arm while steadying me.
"Yeah, I'm alright," I nod, half in a daze of what we'd just done, "let's help the others…"
"Well, I think they've got it covered…" he shrugs a bit, looking to Six, who just rose from behind the counter as is offering her hand to someone- probably John, considering the police officers are definitely down by now.
In the meantime, Nine is still fighting with the fat guy- or, by the looks of it, toying with him. Each time the officer tries to swing a punch at him or starts firing a couple of bullets, he easily swerves the minimal attacks, making it look like he ended up getting off the easiest compared to the fighting the rest of us had to endure. It takes a moment for me to realize that it takes incredible speed to dodge bullets like that, and reflexes that are trained in anticipation to swerve each quick set of punches this human tries to strike him with; I've got respect for Nine's skill.
"Quit screwing with him and let's get out of here," John cuts both of them off, however, sounding annoyed with his voice borderline anxious; this is probably not the first time Nine's done this to someone and held the rest of the world up.
"Aw, Johnny," Nine teases, "you're not any fun."
None the less, he delivers a sharp, suddenly blow to the officer's face, a crack of his cheekbones and nose sounding right after. As the human stumbles backwards, teetering like he's about to fall, he delivers another swift uppercut, this time under his chin. Now the officer does fall on his back, fat rolls lolling and all as he bleeds on the ground, unconscience.
There is no sympathy on Nine's face as he declares, almost eagerly, "Well, it sounds like we've got company outside."
Adam
One lets me back in control of my own body, which relieves me but makes me disgusted, considering One's shameless discussion of secret desires are forever etched in the brain I share with her. It's girl talk that I was never interested in learning about; at least she got Five talking. She almost refuses to speak to me, even in small talk, which fills me with a combination of fear and desperation. If I'm ever going to be able to unite/ally with the Garde, I'll have to learn some way to get at least one of them to trust me. Then again, I guess getting into an intense fight at the Antarctica airport isn't the best way to go about gaining that.
What should I do about her? I ask One mentally as Five stands up, watching me carefully with flickering eyes while starting for the door.
"I'm going outside," she informs us quietly, shutting the door behind her the second both of her feet are in the hallway.
Show her she can trust you, dumbass, she replies, her tone implying she is rolling her eyes, all I had to do was tell her I was a part of the Garde, so I don't know how you're going to pull it off, Mog Boy.
Well, gee. Thanks for the help, now I roll my eyes, but I know that she's right; it won't be easy by a long shot, especially with my reputation and origin.
With a sigh, I sit on the window bench, squinting against the heavy layer of smog. In all honestly, I've got no idea where the other Garde are at or if we're going to be able to find them, but it's definitely worth a shot if it's not worth anything else. Something deep inside of me tells me that their close, and while I'm not sure how reliable my gut is, that's all I've really got run off of at this point. My eyes travel down now, falling to watch the people hurrying along the street and Five coming outside of the hotel. It's hard to tell when the room we're staying in is so high up, but she looks distressed and angry, even anxious.
I know that look, One tells me, she wants to run. You better go catch her before she does.
Quickly, I sling my pack over my shoulder, deciding not to worry about my toiletries; they're expendable and replaceable. Post an afterthought, I grab Five's back as well, starting downstairs as fast as I can. By the time I get down to the busy streets, however, she's already gone.
Five
Even if One is partially in control of him, I can't stay around Adam when he's a Mog boy.
People don't look amused as I swerve between their bodies and strollers; I ignore the glares anyway. All I care about right now is getting away as fast as I possibly can at whatever it takes, since I know that they'll be coming after me very soon. Shivering slightly as I make out of the majority of the morning rush for lack of their bodies' warmth, I turn sharply on a avenue corner, rushing toward the hills. From what I can tell, we're right on the borderline for Virginia, where I can possibly fill back on supplies and think up a new strategy.
As I continue half-running and dodging pedestrians, it dawns on me that I left my Chest back at the hotel. That can't be a good thing, but if I couldn't open it until Jemstone died, I doubt Adam will be able to with his puny girl stick-arms. Something shifts in the inside pocket of my blue jacket, and, much to my delight and relief when I reach inside, I find my dagger. It glows with a familiar blue energy when I touch it, the white metal humming almost comfortingly in my palm.
Someone is behind me now that wasn't there before. All of my muscles tense as I keep the dagger in grip, keeping my head down as I continue striding. They follow me, of course, setting me closer to the edge of turning around and decapitating whoever they are. As the countryside dawns closer from distance, their pace begins to pick up, slowly at first but gaining more ground for sure. My body has gone completely rigid at this point, the dagger seeming to glow even brighter, my adrenaline pumping rapidly.
All of the pedestrians have vanished from the streets of the outskirts of whatever city we were in, which would be eerie if not for the sun shining brightly above us, casting an early morning on whoever has been following me. The form of skinny, puny, stick arms tells me right away; the urge to fight only rises more. Even if Number One really is part of him, he's still a Mog Boy, part of them decimating race.
Sure enough, his voice calls out to me, sounding uncertain but borderline frantic, added on to lack of breath, "Number Five, wait!"
Him saying my name makes me hand clench around the handle of my only weapon, "Go to hell."
He's suddenly tackled me, which was just what I was waiting for. When my knees hit the pavement, I flip him over my shoulder completely, sending him crashing overhead. His form sprawls on the ground before my eyes as he gasps to regain breathing; I make this cause harder but stomping on his stomach. While he curls in a small ball, choking on his own oxygen, spit, and blood, I notice he's got my bag with him. Quickly, I yank it open, grabbing my Chest and holding it tightly.
When he regains footing, I notice that his eyes are now blue instead of the regular dark color, and he's talking in One's voice, "What the hell is your problem?"
"Mogodorians are," I snarl viciously in return; I'm not above killing both of them if they aren't above killing me, "I don't trust them, and I never will. Get that through both of your heads…or head."
"You think I trust them?" she sounds offended and borderline angry, "tch. I kind of have no choice but to trust this tool! We share a body and brain."
"I've got no idea how that screwed up reality happened, but it's not my problem. It's yours," I spit lowly.
"If you want to meet up with the other Garde, it's yours too," she rolls her eyes, like it's totally obvious and simple, "listen to me, Number Five. You don't know anything about the rest of us or what we're here for, so I'm going to tell you right now.
I was Number One. There were ten of us that left Lorien when the Mogodorians destroyed our people, along with a Cepan. Nine of us were on one ship with our Cepans, and we were all young. I was the oldest at nine, by the way. Anyway, we were selected by the Elders of Lorien to return to our planet one day and resume their leading roles. They put a curse on us that we could only be killed in numerical order, just as long as we never met up once we landed on Earth. So, when we got here, we parted ways.
I am dead. So are Numbers Two and Three. That's why we have those scars on our ankles. The Mogs killed us all, and they were going after Number Four when he met up with one of the others. As far as I know, they're all united by now, except for you. This is exactly why we need to find them, but in the meantime, Adam here wants to ally with you.
He betrayed the Mogs, alright? He is on our side; he tried to save Numbers Two and Three, in fact. If you don't want to believe the truth, then so be it. But this is exactly how it is. Now, if you will please get over yourself for a minute, decide whether or not you're ready to save your planet, and if you are going to join this war or not."
Honestly, I don't want to believe her. But as I step closer and my scars become numb, my pendent begins to shine with the same blue energy as my dagger.
"No. I'm not going to join in this war," I reply confidently, with a certain edge from lust for battle, "I'm going to win."
Eight
I haven't know him for very long, but it's obvious enough to Nine has a twisted sense of humor.
As he sits on the ground, legs crossed and feigning innocence, I know he's the one tossing the backup police officers like they're nothing with his telekinesis. There's a smirk he's struggling to hide plastered on his face as well; he's entertaining himself. Even though I'm normally the jester and like to treat things with fun, it's annoying even me as I punch one of the officers in chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him sprawling to the ground.
"Ah, ah, ah," Nine sing-songs suddenly, snatching one of the walkie talkies from one of the female officers, who is frantically trying to call for more backup, and talking into it calmly, "we are handling the issue now. False alarm, please return to your regular duties. Over and out."
When he drops it, he grabs the lady's arm, throwing her easily against the building. She sinks to the ground, looking petrified as tears threaten to spill out of her wide, brown eyes. By the looks of it, she hasn't been on the force very long, and she knows when she's lost a battle. Her face is youthful- she can't be more than nineteen or twenty- and she cowers in presence of Nine, who looks humored and mischievous.
"What's a pretty thing like you doing here, sweetheart?" he asks smoothly, like he rehearsed it in advance.
Before she can answer, I'm between both of them, pushing him away, "We have more important things to be doing right now."
"Aw, man," he half teases, "you're no fun, either."
None the less, he whirls around on one heel into the mist of action, which, by the look on his face, is exactly where he wanted to be. Rolling my eyes, I offer my hand to the girl, who accepts with a shaking hand.
"Thank you…" her voice is quiet, almost more apologetic than thankful.
"Don't worry about him too much," I advise, shaking my head once, "he's got an….interesting way of looking at things. But you should probably get out of here and not call for backup, anyway."
"O-okay," she agree softly, the edge of her voice soft withheld-back hysteria while she got to her feet.
As she rushes off, I hear Nine howling behind me with laughter. When I turn around to see what's so funny now, my eyes widen a bit at the sight of Ella sobbing on the ground, red cuts on her arm; she's in a four-year-old form. Sarah is standing in front of her, looking protective and angry, but also helpless. A few of the police officers are reaching for both of them, faces frantic as they beg quietly for them to both quiet down; Sarah's gripping her cell phone in her head and to her ear.
"I'll do it!" Sarah warns, voice shaking with fear I know is only half real, "I'll call the chief!"
"No, no, no," one of the younger male officers pleads, eyes wide and hands shaking, "we'll be fired!"
"Make bad people go bye-bye!" Ella wails helpfully; they're both brilliant and even hilarious.
"Break it up," I step between both sides of the rising argument, "you all…let's say you all get in your cars and drive away, and we'll forget this even happened. How does that sound?"
Much to pleasure, they obey, making Nine howl even louder, "Ada boy, Eight!"
"Yeah," I shake my head, helping Ella to her feet, "let's get out of here."