Hey.

It's been awhile.

Let's do this.

As a child, you would wait, and watch from far away
But you always knew that you would be the one to work while they all played
And you…you'd lay, awake at night and scheme
Of all the things that you would change
But it was just a dream.

Warriors – Imagine Dragons
(Inspiration: Damien)

There is no plan.

At least there isn't in the general consensus of the four psychics. Aiden sighs, not amused by the start. He is not about to run haphazardly into a Club hideout without some sort of strategy, knowing Jay's eagerness to go there. He is anything but careful.

"Will it really be that hard to sneak in there?" He asks, "If someone causes a distraction…"

"If he's where we think he is there isn't exactly going to be a welcome party for us," Damien speaks, his voice already sounding unwilling to participate.

"No one welcomes us to anything," Aiden says dryly, his eyes following Jay as he is wondering away, "Jay."

The young psychic turns, looking toward them all, "What is the name of the building again?"

"Rossi-Fremont, an old set of apartment buildings, it's been abandoned for a long time, now it's their fortress." Clara explains, "It won't be easy to get in, let alone find Iraq."

Aiden watches Jay's face change considerably, he asks, "Did you think of something?"

"Sort of," He answers, his eyes downcast, thinking, "…What if I tried to visualize the place? With my powers."

Aiden easily forgets that Jay is a Visionary. It is hard for him to imagine him as anything but something to protect now. Despite making him stronger, most likely able to defend himself now, that's all he thought of.

"Go ahead," Damien says shortly, defying every answer in Aiden's expression, "Don't know how you'd go about doing that."

"I'll improvise," Jay says, turning toward the Bunker.

"I don't think that will work," Aiden sighs, "There has to be some kind of method to it."

Jay looks at him as if he is an alien, his eyebrow raises, "The fuck are you talking about? You improvise all the time—oh, unless getting shot in the leg by my father was all planned out strategically. Then maybe you're the Visionary here." He ends with a smirk, beginning his walk back to the warehouse.

Aiden hears Clara repressing her laughter while Damien did nothing of the sort, speaking between his chuckling, "Now what have you created, Pearce?"

The psychic looks ahead at Jay as he vanishes into the boxcar. He smiles, just slightly, "Hell if I know."

~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~

There were various things that Jay and the others picked off the bodies of thugs; loose wallets, key chains, communicators. The young psychic looks about them for some spark. Out of all things Aiden has helped him with, visions were something he could not explain. They seem to come in some haphazard attempt to help him, but he hasn't had one since the boardwalk. He couldn't say he counted the strange dreams, those were just nonsense.

He feels Aiden's Aura as he lifts a pair of keys. He speaks idly, trying to distract from the trouble he is currently having, "I've always wanted to say something irritating before walking away dramatically."

"You're finally acting like the rest of us," He says dryly, his being appearing beside him, a hand gripping the edge of the table, eyes watching the scattered objects, "You're not finding anything, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You and 'covert' don't go together," Aiden lifts a wallet up, looking at the ID inside, "You are an entertainer if anything. You like to make your presence known."

His voice is neither condescending or complimentary. It is in that strange void that his tone seems to occupy ninety-nine percent of the time. He drops the keys, "Well that's not going to help me in this situation is it?"

"No. Just thought you should know you are shit at being sneaky." When his comment is met with nothing Aiden diverts back to the subject, "Look, we'll find another way in."

"Nope. I'm figuring this out. Even if it's not to get to Iraq it's so I can understand this vision bullshit." He looks back at the junk on the table, feeling no sense of power from anything. Most of the time he feels faint or there is a vicious headache. There is nothing here.

All he can sense is Aiden standing next to him quietly, waiting for him to figure it out. He wonders to himself how long he would stand there watching. It pulled unnecessary pressure from him.

"You're not getting anywhere." He speaks again as if it is the first time.

"Well it doesn't help that you're breathing down my neck," He argues, but noncommittally, just enough to sound irritated.

"I thought that would help you do better. It worked last time."

Jay slowly sighs, "I'm starting to like emotionless Aiden better than sassy Aiden."

"That was sass?" Aiden's eyes dart to the boxcar entrance as it is heard lowering, and back, "I was just pointing out your weakness."

There is a small twitch that curves on the younger psychic's lips, "You're not a weakness."

When three Auras dominate the entrance they turn. Damien carries himself in, scowling. Behind him is Clara, then Wick, rolling his shoulders, looking as if he was just thrown against the wall. Jay looks toward Aiden, watching his expression darken.

"You followed us." He says toward Wick, nothing welcoming in his tone.

Wick doesn't look at him, appealing to Jay with an innocent stare, "I actually made a couple stops beforehand but then I followed, yeah." He stretches, looking about the bunker, "Nice place you got. Smells like blood though."

"Fuck," Damien mutters, "I wonder why."

"I said I was sorry," Wick says near Jay, Aiden's glare stopping him from moving any further.

"I just barely heard you before he slammed into the boxcar," Clara says, though her voice has far less venom than the two men, "You said you were here to help so help before they kill you."

"You're going to Rossi-Fremont, right? I can help with that," he looks toward Jay again, "I can give you a vision of the building. I've been there."

"Been there?" Aiden steps forward, "And what were you doing?"

"Does it matter?" Wick frowns, most likely aware how inadequate the answer was at this point. He sighs, dropping his arms, "Fine…I may have dealt with them before. Just for a short while. I was desperate."

"You really are keeping convenient information from us a lot," Aiden takes another step forward, his eyes burning, "What are you really here for?"

Jay watches Wick for a moment in the pause, his fingers twitch slightly, very slightly, his jaw set as if something was about to burst from him; something crucial, something he had little control over. Instead, his voice was hard, confident, "I'm just here to help, Fox."

He feels something change in Wick, his beat, the music hit a different pitch, but he couldn't pinpoint it. Wick doesn't fear Aiden. Then again, neither does Clara or Damien, but the confidence is almost violent, like a rising crescendo.

He blinks away the thoughts. The point is that he had information.

Slowly, he moves between the two, looking at Aiden with a hopefully readable expression before looking to Wick, "What do you have?"

Wick smiles, again, it felt different but he holds out a hand, "I've only been there once or twice but I'm sure you could create an image of it."

The young psychic looks at the hand, then at Wick, "I need you to tell me straight. Are you here to help?"

Wick seems baffled that he questions it, but nods, "Yes, Jay, I wouldn't lie to you."

But you would lie to them it was his own voice this time, his thought immediately. Instinct. That's what he usually listens to isn't it? Then why is he reaches for his hand?

He feels his fingers curl around Wick's, images flashing across his mind. An abandoned complex littered with hazard-worthy shrapnel and collapsed walls. Men posted among the ruins, a control center at the top floor. And entrance, underground, barely used.

When he feels Wick release him he just barely registers it. He blinks several times, stance slightly wobbled as he looks at the others.

"…An entrance," He says quickly, as if the image plastered in his mind would fade from his memory in mere seconds, "Underground, through the sewers."

"Pleasant." Damien says, looking to Aiden, "Looks like you're going to be crawling through those."

"Here I thought you were going to do some fucking leg work for once—wait," He stops, his eyes darting to Damien's metal leg and back, "Sorry, forgot."

Damien steps back, looking away with a shake of the head, "You know that hurts me so much. I thought we had something. And you're just breaking my heart."

Aiden shuts up, eyes narrowed, "Don't even go there."

"I won't when you stop stabbing a poor old man's soul," He says with little pain or real hurt in his voice, looking back at Jay, "You and the purple kid are going with Aiden."

"No." Aiden said immediately, "Jay isn't going."

"Yeah I am, I'm your fucking map." Jay protests, "And you'd rather have Wick as company? You can barely look at him without ripping his head off."

"That's because I don't believe a single word he's saying," He glares to Wick, "If he's coming with us then he stays close and without weapons."

"I don't need a weapon, Fox," Wick says defensively, "Too bad you do."

"You're going to need on—"

"Aiden," Jay interjects, trying a smile, "Just…try not to kill him just yet. He can help!"

The older psychic watches him, seeing his expression and scoffs, "Alright. Fine. But I mean what I say about him staying close."

"Because I'm going to wonder away into some asshole's bullets," Wick grumbles, stretching again.

Jay looks at the floor, thoughts wandering, feeling like he is about to walk into his own destruction.

~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~

The sewers are far worse than Jay imagined them.

They move along the edge, sludge and murky water moving along in the other direction. Jay walks in the front, his eyes icy and bright in the dark, seeing the map in his mind. Behind him Wick trudged along, a sword hovering near him as Aiden follows at the end.

"Is this necessary?" Wick asks, poking Aiden's floating sword, "I feel like we've been here before."

"Funny how that works," Aiden says, "I usually point swords at people I don't like."

"You should really deal with your hatred in a more positive way," Wick grins, "Ever tried finding other outlets?"

Jay could practically feel Aiden's eyes on him as he asks that question before he hears him answer, "Punching pillows doesn't work."

The younger psychic stops, looking over at a narrow hallway and cutting into it, happy that the smell begins to fade. He turns, walking backwards as he talks to Wick, "So why were you here exactly?" he asks despite not really caring for his purpose. He knew it would relax Aiden though.

Wick seems to know this, glancing back at Aiden's glaring green eyes and back, "I told you before that I've dealt with them. I've met Iraq too."

"Is he going to be a problem?" Aiden asks, shortly, impatiently.

"He's fucked up in the head," Wick informs, tapping his purple-dyed hair, "Too much war and drugs…most likely."

"Fantastic," Jay mutters, stopping short as he hears footsteps above.

"We are right under the building," Aiden says, glancing toward a set of stairs leading to a collapsed door, "We need to go there most likely."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Wick turns to the other side of the floating sword, looking at them both, "For all of us at least. Iraq can sense Mr. Fox's Aura from ten miles away."

"How could he catch his Aura out of everyone else?" Jay asks, feeling the beats of a variety of powers, all different, a maze of rhythms.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, but not many people like him," Wick gestures to the floating sword still trained on him as opposed to Aiden himself.

"I never intended for them to 'like' me, if you aren't aware of that," Aiden looks to Jay, "I will go, you stay here."

"You heard him, you are going to get caught if you go up there," Jay smirks, "Someone isn't going to be very covert."

Aiden's mouth twitches up just slightly, "Yours is going to attract attention as well."

"They aren't going to know his Aura," Wick defends, "It will catch their attention, sure, but they won't immediately start shooting and flinging things at his hiding spot."

"I'm not sending him in there alone." Aiden's voice is final, aggressive with his protection. As much as Jay admired it he feels a sense of purpose in this task.

"I can do it," He speaks up, and without hesitation he goes to the door. He's halfway through knocking away the first piece of rubble blocking the door when Aiden takes his arm, stopping the process.

"Jay, you're not doing this alone. There are possibly hundreds of psychics that want to kill you."

"So we are on the same playing field," Jay argues, "I'm not a piece of china, you know, I can take a couple hits. I beat you in a fight!"

"Yes but I am different than them—"

"How exactly?" Jay asks, "Other than being a little, tiny bit less of a jackass most of the time. And kissing well—"

"I didn't try to kill you back there." Aiden's eyes are hard, "You don't know what you're getting into and I will not let you get die."

The silence is quick and painful to stand in. The psychics stare at one another with blank, clinging promise; their Aura's beating softly, barely there.

Jay's eyes glance back at the tunnel, "Aiden…Wick is gone."

Aiden looks back, "Fucking bastard—" He moves away, already running, "Stay there." He orders before disappearing back down the tunnel.

Jay stares, waiting, listening for Aiden's footsteps to echo into nothing before continuing to move the rubble.

~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~

I knew it Aiden thinks over and over as he follow's Wick's Aura across the sewers. The stench would be almost unbreathable if he wasn't so focused on the image of stabbing the manipulative Will Bender through the heart. Why would he run though? It seems he should have gone with the charade till a more opportune moment.

Perhaps this was that moment. Despite Aiden's fantasies that Jay would stay completely still, not getting involved what-so-ever he knows for a fact he's halfway through that collapsed doorway by now. He looks back, considering. Wick would most likely be going to some other entrance to warn the populace. If he doesn't stop him Jay will never get through.

He hears a shuffle. Looking back down the tunnel Wick stands half-concealed around a corner, grinning.

"So is it safe to say I knew you would follow me? I mean I know you don't like being predictable but I can't help that." He calls, every word a different beat than before. The silvery persuasion is gone.

"I could say the same about you," Aiden calls back, sprinting toward him. Wick vanishes around the corner, the sound of footsteps ascend. There is another entrance. Of course.

Aiden darts into a small room of stone stairs, following Wick's feet upward. The space is bare, free from anything that could be flung to slow him down. A door slams shut. He arrives a half a second later at the eroded wood, spending little time smashing it to pieces with one stab of a sword.

He doesn't see Wick anywhere in the room. It is hard not to notice him obnoxious and grinning. But now there is just silence. He steps farther into the room, feet crushing broken splinters.

Then there is the noise, the loud screeching of alarm. He growls, the sound as unbearable as always. He leans against the wall, covering his ears, sinking as the sound grows louder than before. There is envy he had for Jay being able to stand such a thing.

After another long couple of seconds the screeching cuts off. Wick jumps from somewhere up above, a rafter? Aiden, with throbbing ears and a numbed brain didn't care at the point.

"You just can't get a break from these can you?" Wick says, gesturing to a small device similar to Damien's. He pulls earplugs out, "Annoying as all Hell."

Aiden pulls his way up, vision blurry. He manages to keep his eyes steady on Wick standing a good distance away, "I'm guessing you're going to rationalize yourself now."

"What is there to rationalize exactly?" Wick smirks, "I lead you here, incapacitated your powers…oh you're asking why, aren't you?"

The older psychic was not in any sort of mood anymore. He is sick of this Will Bender. There is something, however, he could tell, about him. He has an ego. He could deal with that.

He takes a moment to sink back on the floor, trying to decide what weak felt like, what defenseless felt like. No, not defenseless, only vulnerable. There is a pattern with enemies with high egos that hate the likes of him. They relish weakness like some kind of irresistible scent. They always hunt for it.

"You could say that," He answers after noticing a slight change in Wick's expression. A smile slightly wider, only slightly. A step closer he moves. Good, he only needed a few more steps.

"I'm more curious on what you think it is, Fox," Wick says, "I mean you knew I was going to do something like this but you didn't do anything about it. You decided to go on the hunch of Jay because…honestly I didn't think you'd succumb to the persuasion of love."

Aiden takes the time to lose eye contact with him, pretending to be ashamed of the choice. Although part of him wants to be ashamed, or at least chastised. He shouldn't have let Jay's friendship with him go this far. He couldn't help it. He didn't need another war of who is more stubborn, more rationalized in their own thoughts. Aiden was right about Wick, but there is always that outrageously small chance that he wasn't. There is no going back on it. So he just has to deal with it.

Another step.

Aiden looks back, Wick is closer, just a little bit more. He speaks up, "I made the choice. Doesn't make me wrong about you."

"Makes you more of an idiot though," Wick says, "I don't…get Quinn's fixation on you. But your 'fixation' to Jay makes little sense either."

"Maybe in an alternate universe we hate each other," Aiden says with a shrug, "And maybe you don't exist. That would be a pretty nice world."

"So bitter," Wick chuckles. Another step. He continues, "Powers would probably help you at this point, right? Powers you won't have in a couple minutes."

Aiden didn't know what the statement meant. Wick is close enough but he needed this, "And what do you mean by that?"

Wick crouches by him, eyes silver-bright. He speaks softly, "My boss taught me a new trick. Did you know these powers all come from the head? And mental is my specialty."

Aiden watches him, his vision beginning to return, "Hey…I forgot to mention a big problem you have right now."

The younger psychic chuckles again, "Really? What's that?"

"I don't need fucking powers to kill you."

He launches off the wall, catching Wick's neck and pinning him to the floor. Wick reacts immediately, rolling them both to the side. Aiden feels a weight leave his jacket, catching one of his batons in the air before it hits the side of his head. He yanks it out of Wick's grasp, swinging back at him. Wick dodges, pulling the device from his coat. Aiden's eyes flash to it, whipping the baton at Wick's leg, grabbing his wrist as he falters, taking the device and throwing it across the room, hearing the satisfying sound of it smashing to pieces.

He faintly hears Wick curse, quick to rip from Aiden's grip. He jumps through an open window into the hall outside. Aiden pursues, catching the collar of his coat and slamming him against the metal railing just before a chasm of broken up floors leading downward. With stuttering strength he manages to take a sword from his coat, the tip floating near them.

"So what exactly did Quinn teach you?" Aiden asks evenly, "Maybe give yourself some karma before I kill you for all this."

Wick watches the tip of the down, breathing slightly short, "I'd rather take it to the grave with me, Fox. Truth is that I would go after Quinn right after this. I would have killed him for everything."

"There is really no point in trying to save face with me," Aiden says, "I don't need the sob story that you made up. Just tell me."

Wick actually seems to be considering, watching Aiden with little fear. He doesn't fear death. Something told Aiden he's been asking for it.

The younger psychic begins to speak, but the words are cut short by a sudden, corrupting explosion above. Both look up, fire sparking and spreading into the hall. Another explosion.

"Jay!" Aiden speaks, remembering, barely registering the worry when he feels something grip his coat.

He sees Wick's eyes fiery with hatred. He says nothing, but with one push he sends them both over the railing and into the floors below.

~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~

Jay discovers halfway through his ascension in the stairway how much he truly despises stairs.

There has been only one guard on them. Not a very good one considering he was half asleep and the only thing Jay had to do was one hand motion to fling him down the insufferable steps he already climbed. The narrow space is an utter disaster, spewed with blown out pipes and dirty pieces of cloth or rotting wood.

He wonders, rather randomly, whose idiotic idea it was to have a hideout, for quite a number of psychics, in an area so pathetically unstable in terms of structure. Whatever makes this easier, he thinks. He'd rather get out with little injury lest Aiden decide to chain his ankle to the wall of the bunker for the rest of his life.

He finally gets to the top floor where he senses the Aura he's looking for. Wick described it as best as he can to Jay, comparing the beat to gunshots. Jay just felt a series of staccatos layered with eighths and spastic rests in between that left him questioning Iraq's mental state.

Almost immediately he spots another guard, quickly ducking behind a cemented-on slab of concrete. He glances over, two men loitering about. One of them levitates a couple bullets.

"How long are we posted here?" Bullet man asks in a low, whining voice.

"Another couple hours," The other says, busy sharpening a wickedly curved knife with elongated scraps. His voice was very unamused.

A scoffing noise escapes the bullet man, "I'm bored as fuck, man."

"And that's my problem?"

"Yeah, cuz you're standing here with me."

"We could have it be just me instead if you feel like getting stabbed." Knife man's voice was neither serious nor joking.

"I'm just sayin'," Bullet man leans against the wall, "Since when is Iraq so jumpy?"

"Since Wick pulled that charade at Blume. What do you think?"

"You actually believe that?"

"Why else would he be like this? And you know that they hate each other."

Jay leans heavily against the slab. Wick ran away from them, and now they are saying he was involved with the reveal of a psychic's weakness. He felt stupid, unnaturally so. He wanted desperately to believe Wick. There was just something about him that made him think he was more than he actually was. Maybe he just wanted to prove Aiden wrong. Whatever it was…he has made a mistake.

He knows Aiden went after him, and Aiden wouldn't die easily. He looks back over at the two men, pulling the partisan from his back. He has trained very little with it but he could manage.

He takes a breath before launching over the slab, the shouts of surprise from the two getting cut short by zapping electricity. Another man runs, getting one shot off before Jay flings him into the closest wall. Twice more to be confirmed unconscious.

As he stands in the silence he touches a small sliver of blood blooming on his sleeve. The bullet had sliced it.

"Well there goes being unhurt…" He mutters, completely energized as he heads forward, "He'll get over it."

He reaches the end of the hall, a locked door. His grip tightens on the partisan, stabbing it into the lock and prying with off. When he enters his partisan slams into a briefcase aimed at him. Iraq pulls away, taking a step back and pointing a pistol at him.

"…You're that kid, that…" He looks to be arguing with himself, the grip tightening on the gun, "That purple-haired bitch got you in here, didn't he?"

"Well he did part of the work," Jay says carefully, "I heard that you aren't the only asshole here."

"I had nothing to do with Blume," He explains all too quickly, voice rough and violent, "Wick set me up, led you along to think it was me, tried getting me killed!"

Very distantly Jay remembers Clara telling him that Will Benders could possibly make themselves look like another in someone's head. It made sense now. Who his father had seen, it was never Iraq.

He looks up, "That doesn't change the fact that you're in the same group as him. You're after me."

"Yeah…I am aren't I?" He slowly lowers the gun, only to lash out, slamming the gun on the side of his head. Jay staggers, dropping the partisan just as he is slammed against some sort of control system, the gun at his jaw.

Iraq glares, "You don't know how much I want to pull the trigger right now. You've been nothing but a pain in my ass."

"Not my fault people love me," Jay challenges, eyes darting to the partisan on the floor.

"Love you? People hate you. People want you dead. Maybe I'll do that."

Jay hears a click.

"Fuck you, I'm not getting shot again," Jay snaps his fingers, the partisan, flinging back toward him. He knocks the gun away, electricity zapping through him. Iraq falls on a knee, twitching from the shock. Jay moves forward, pointing the partisan at him. Iraq's head snaps up, flinging the gun to him and shooting blindly. Jay stabs the blade through his chest at the same time. He stumbles back at the sound of sparks, ripping the partisan out spattered in blood. He sees just faintly the control panel.

"Oh shit—" He darts to the door, just turning out of it when the explosion hits.

His hearing snaps, deliriously he runs down the hall, remembering the barrels, the artillery, flammable things. Lots of flammable things. Another explosion.

He skids to a stop on a higher balcony, seeing a quick glance of purple hair. He sees Wick pinned against the railing, Aiden holding him at sword point just before both roll over and down the collapsed floors.

"Aiden!" Jay shouts just as a third explosion hits, far too close.

He is blow straight off, in slow motion he falls. Two beats…no…three.

Then he remembers how to slow his fall, rolling roughly over debris. He lifts his head, seeing two forms ahead within the growing smoke.

Aiden is motionless, scratches against him. Wick leaning over him, a hand on his head, eyes closed.

"Aiden…!" Jay scrambles up, darting to him, outright tacking Wick away, his hands taking his. There is a wave of numbness as he takes them, some rush of overwhelming energy so fast, a thousand different beats.

"Jay! Jay you fucker—" Wick tries to pull away but Jay locks his grip, "No! No you're going to—"

Another explosion, words fading, rubble collapsing toward them. Jay closes his eyes, feeling an Aura, like a violent hurricane close to him. The beat familiar, the feeling familiar, like gasoline and rainfall.

Just like Aiden.