The one good thing about the 6 inches of snow we got in the past 36 hours - we get a lot of lessons off ;)
A/N 1: As in the previous chapters - ideas for fic or character development, questions, plotbunnies, suggestions, flames, character pictures, corrections, additions, comments, and everything in between can be mailed to d.angelino@caramail.com (don't worry - I don't bite. Unless you ask me to, of course...;)
A/N 2: Well, what do you know? We just hit the 50+ pages mark. That's gotta be a new record for me *g*. Kyle's reaction to the drugs was inspired by Dennis, who really should know better than to try to drink three seniors under the table. And don't worry, sugar - we didn't take pictures.
A/N 3: New character again - Prue Marson, who belongs to Cherry Drop. Take notes, there will be a quiz later ;)
'...' Indicates telepathy
Notes: 'Dasvidanja' means 'goodbye.'
* * *
Chapter Eleven: Awakenings
* * *
Pain.
That was Kyle's first thought as he slowly regained consciousness.
His head hurt, his muscles hurt, and he felt a lot like the one time he'd been out drinking and woke up with the mother of all hangovers. He tried to move his body, but the pain it caused made him whimper.
"Don't try to move," a female voice said. "It's the after effects of the drugs. It'll get better in a few minutes."
Two gentle hands brushed his hair away from his face, and Kyle forced himself to open his eyes. The sudden brightness felt almost like a physical pain, then faded into a faint throbbing in his head, and merged with the general discomfort he felt.
Floor. He was lying on some dark gray floor. A hard, cold, uncomfortable floor. He groaned mentally. This ranked pretty high on the 'worst places he had ever woken up' list, right besides the likes of 'dumpster' and 'FoH headquarter'.
"Jeez, you don't like to listen to other people's advice, do you?" the female asked. The words might have been a bit harsh, but her voice was light and teasing.
Kyle looked at her. She was small - slim and short. Young, too, but not as young as Jhonen and Suzuka. Maybe nineteen. Twenty at the most. Strawberry blonde hair and gray eyes. Not entirely unattractive, he noted.
He tried to move his arms to find a more comfortable position, and found that the girl had been right. It still hurt like hell, but considerably less than before. He tried to sit up but the resulting pain made him groan and lie back on the floor.
"Warned you," the girl said. It wasn't gloating, but merely a statement of facts. "I'm Prue Marson."
"Kyle Sanderson," Kyle replied when the pain had faded enough for him to think again. "What about the others?" he asked, and somehow managed to form a coherent sentence.
"Others? The ones you came here with?" Prue asked.
Kyle nodded, careful not to move too fast. The pain had now settled as a steady throbbing in his head, much like a very bad hangover. He could think, but he had a hard time concentrating on anything.
"Still out cold," his cellmate reported. "If the three of you got caught together, they should wake up soon."
Kyle nodded again, and ever so slowly he managed to move into a sitting position, leaning against the hard wall. Finally he got a good look at the room they were in.
Gray. Dark gray and empty - no chairs, no beds, no blankets. An old toilet in one corner, and a sink in another. A steel door. A cell - but where? The last thing he remembered was the motel-room in Harrisburg and that was...yesterday? The day before? He didn't even know how long he'd been out. This place...this could be anywhere.
"What is this place?" he whispered and rubbed his head. He felt like his mind was engulfed in a heavy fog, and he had a hard time even remembering what had happened.
Prue sighed and leaned against the wall.
"I'm not sure. A police station of some sort. The guys who brought you in were wearing police uniforms."
Kyle sighed.
"Great."
"They're sending us to the camps, you know," Prue said.
Kyle raised an eyebrow and sent her a questioningly look.
"I heard them talk about it - the guards outside. They talked about a camp called Outpost Four," Prue continued.
Kyle slowly nodded.
"I've heard of it. Across the border, right? Somewhere in..." he tried to remember the state, but it kept eluding him. He frowned, and concentrated.
"Kentucky, I think," he finally said, then gasped as the pain returned with renewed strength. "My head!"
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I should have warned you - I think it's the drugs. As soon as you try to concentrate, the pain will start again," Prue explained and sent him an apologizing look.
"I learned that the hard way," she continued and winced. "I tried to use my powers, but the only result was a headache. When I tried again, I passed out."
"Powers? What do you do?" Kyle asked and rubbed his head. Damn, it hurt. He could barely concentrate for long enough to form a coherent sentence - there was no way he would be able to use his powers. Especially not if he wanted to control the result.
"I can create holes in the ground," Prue explained, and after seeing Kyle's look she elaborated a bit. "If I put my hands on the floor and concentrate, I can create holes, no matter what the material is."
Kyle nodded slowly, careful not to do anything that would make the headache worse. "My power is molecular manipulation...I can slow things down. Not the most useful of powers, but it keeps me alive."
A moan alerted Kyle and Prue to the fact that Suzuka was waking up, and somehow Kyle managed to crawl over to her without too much pain.
"What happened?" she mumbled. "The last thing I remember is giving one of the cops a knee in the groin...and then nothing."
"That's my girl," Kyle grinned, but quickly sobered up. "We're in a prison of some sort. Don't know where, and don't know how long we've been here."
"Damn," Suzuka mumbled, then rubbed her head. "My head hurts."
"Try not to concentrate too hard on anything. That helps," Prue advised.
"And you are...?" Suzuka asked weakly.
"Prue Marson. Your cellmate."
"Great," Suzuka muttered. "What about Jhonen?"
"Still asleep," Prue reported.
With an uncharacteristic clumsiness Kyle crawled the few feet to where Jhonen was lying, and even through the thick haze that engulfed his mind, he knew that something was wrong. Jhonen was pale, and with a growing feeling of worry, Kyle reached out to touch his face.
"He's burning," Kyle whispered, and a quick check of Jhonen's pulse revealed that it was unnaturally fast.
He looked at the other two.
"We have to get out of here."
"We can't use our powers," Prue reminded him.
Kyle sighed.
"No, we can't. But someone else might still be able to get us out of here." If he isn't unconscious..., Kyle silently added.
Kyle leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Years with Ryan had slowly created a psychic link between them, and he knew from experience that Ryan could hear him across fairly long distances. Hopefully, he would be able to alert Ryan before the drugs kicked in. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. The pain instantly got worse, but Kyle managed to push it aside for long enough to form one crystal-clear and desperate thought.
'RYAN!'
And somewhere outside Harrisburg, Ryan nearly drove off the road.
* * *
Although it was early when Laetitia woke up, Rina had already left - her bed was empty, and her bags were gone. Laetitia yawned, then got out of bed and put on a sweater and a pain of jeans. The clothes were very different from the expensive designer clothes she had been used to in Greece, but she had long ago learned that a person on the run could not afford to be picky.
Quickly checking that the others were still asleep, she walked down the hallway, past the door to Frank's room - which was still closed, she noted - then stepped into the kitchen. She closed the door, then grabbed the phone and dialed a number she could have recited even in her sleep.
The phone rang once, then twice, before being picked up.
"Daniel Lee's IT Consulting Agency, how may I help you?" a cheery female voice asked.
Laetitia sighed and rubbed her forehead. Damn, she hated morning people.
"Nike, 10783-24-C," she recited. A lot of things weren't what they appeared to be, Daniel Lee's IT company included. In reality, it was a cover for Sergey Nikolajevish' widespread, illegal operations - espionage, kidnappings, and assassinations, to mention a few. Laetitia didn't know how they had managed to convince the government to look the other way, and quite frankly, she didn't care. Sergey was a contact and an occasional employer, and she respected him too much to snoop around in things that were none of her business.
"I'll put you through to the Boss immediately, miss Tatapoulos," the women replied, and dropped the cheerful facade in favor of a more professional one.
"Thanks," Laetitia replied.
There was a moment of noise as the call was transferred to Sergey's office, then two more rings before it was picked up.
"Nike," Sergey greeted. His voice was deep, but not in a threatening manner. He sounded much like a kind uncle or grandfather, and he looked like that as well. A friendly Russian in his mid-forties, with gray hairs starting to replace the black ones, and a fondness for good red wine, of all things.
He looked harmless, and that was probably why he had managed to become one of the most powerful people in world of the criminals.
"Hey, Sergey," Laetitia replied, and sat down on the empty table.
"I trust that Frank delivered my message?"
Laetitia sighed.
"Yeah. How bad is it?"
There was a pause, and she knew that Sergey was debating how much to tell her.
"It's bad," he finally said. "The Greek lead was good. You're good at covering your tracks, but even then..."
He trailed off, and Laetitia felt a flicker of impatience.
"How long?" she asked.
"Depending on the skills of the investigators, the leads they find, the-"
"How. Long?" Laetitia interrupted, and this time the anger was clear in her voice.
There was a sigh at the other end of the line.
"Two months. One month in the worst case scenario."
"Fuck," Laetitia breathed.
"Nike, listen to me," Sergey continued. "Get yourself a new identity. Go underground...Asia, maybe. Somewhere with a lot of people, like Tokyo or Beijing. Stay low until things cool down a bit. You're young...don't get yourself killed because you're too proud to retreat when the ground starts to burn underneath your feet."
"I can't, I'm-"
"Think about it, Nike," Sergey interrupted. "At least think about it, okay?"
"I will," Laetitia promised. "Bye."
"Dasvidanja," Sergey replied.
Laetitia hung up and buried her head in her hands.
Fuck.
"What's wrong?"
Laetitia's head snapped up, but she relaxed when she saw Pheonix in the doorway.
"Nothing," she replied and shook her head.
Pheonix sent her a pointed look.
"Don't try to fool me. I know you, Nike."
Laetitia smiled faintly.
"Too well, it appears" she replied, and took Pheonix' hand. Dark brown fingers intertwined with Laetitia's tanned ones, and the older girl sighed. Pheonix was so young...she deserved a life with a loving family, and not someone like the Shadow Alliance. But it was too late for that, and if nothing else, Laetitia owed Pheonix the truth.
"The feds are closing in on me," she finally said. "One month...two at the most."
Pheonix eyes widened slightly, and Laetitia knew that she understood the implications.
"You're leaving?" she asked, and for a long, surreal moment Laetitia saw a frightened child underneath Pheonix' bad attitude.
"I don't know," Nike replied truthfully. "I really don't know."
"Please stay," Pheonix whispered anguished. "I don't wanna be alone again."
Laetitia just sighed and hugged the girl. If she stayed, she would get captured. On the other hand she couldn't leave Pheonix behind, and living underground was not something she wanted the young girl to experience.
Shit. When had life become this complicated?
* * *
*He, he* Oh, it's great to be evil ;)
Coming up: To rescue or not to rescue...and what is happening to Jhonen?
A/N 1: As in the previous chapters - ideas for fic or character development, questions, plotbunnies, suggestions, flames, character pictures, corrections, additions, comments, and everything in between can be mailed to d.angelino@caramail.com (don't worry - I don't bite. Unless you ask me to, of course...;)
A/N 2: Well, what do you know? We just hit the 50+ pages mark. That's gotta be a new record for me *g*. Kyle's reaction to the drugs was inspired by Dennis, who really should know better than to try to drink three seniors under the table. And don't worry, sugar - we didn't take pictures.
A/N 3: New character again - Prue Marson, who belongs to Cherry Drop. Take notes, there will be a quiz later ;)
'...' Indicates telepathy
Notes: 'Dasvidanja' means 'goodbye.'
* * *
Chapter Eleven: Awakenings
* * *
Pain.
That was Kyle's first thought as he slowly regained consciousness.
His head hurt, his muscles hurt, and he felt a lot like the one time he'd been out drinking and woke up with the mother of all hangovers. He tried to move his body, but the pain it caused made him whimper.
"Don't try to move," a female voice said. "It's the after effects of the drugs. It'll get better in a few minutes."
Two gentle hands brushed his hair away from his face, and Kyle forced himself to open his eyes. The sudden brightness felt almost like a physical pain, then faded into a faint throbbing in his head, and merged with the general discomfort he felt.
Floor. He was lying on some dark gray floor. A hard, cold, uncomfortable floor. He groaned mentally. This ranked pretty high on the 'worst places he had ever woken up' list, right besides the likes of 'dumpster' and 'FoH headquarter'.
"Jeez, you don't like to listen to other people's advice, do you?" the female asked. The words might have been a bit harsh, but her voice was light and teasing.
Kyle looked at her. She was small - slim and short. Young, too, but not as young as Jhonen and Suzuka. Maybe nineteen. Twenty at the most. Strawberry blonde hair and gray eyes. Not entirely unattractive, he noted.
He tried to move his arms to find a more comfortable position, and found that the girl had been right. It still hurt like hell, but considerably less than before. He tried to sit up but the resulting pain made him groan and lie back on the floor.
"Warned you," the girl said. It wasn't gloating, but merely a statement of facts. "I'm Prue Marson."
"Kyle Sanderson," Kyle replied when the pain had faded enough for him to think again. "What about the others?" he asked, and somehow managed to form a coherent sentence.
"Others? The ones you came here with?" Prue asked.
Kyle nodded, careful not to move too fast. The pain had now settled as a steady throbbing in his head, much like a very bad hangover. He could think, but he had a hard time concentrating on anything.
"Still out cold," his cellmate reported. "If the three of you got caught together, they should wake up soon."
Kyle nodded again, and ever so slowly he managed to move into a sitting position, leaning against the hard wall. Finally he got a good look at the room they were in.
Gray. Dark gray and empty - no chairs, no beds, no blankets. An old toilet in one corner, and a sink in another. A steel door. A cell - but where? The last thing he remembered was the motel-room in Harrisburg and that was...yesterday? The day before? He didn't even know how long he'd been out. This place...this could be anywhere.
"What is this place?" he whispered and rubbed his head. He felt like his mind was engulfed in a heavy fog, and he had a hard time even remembering what had happened.
Prue sighed and leaned against the wall.
"I'm not sure. A police station of some sort. The guys who brought you in were wearing police uniforms."
Kyle sighed.
"Great."
"They're sending us to the camps, you know," Prue said.
Kyle raised an eyebrow and sent her a questioningly look.
"I heard them talk about it - the guards outside. They talked about a camp called Outpost Four," Prue continued.
Kyle slowly nodded.
"I've heard of it. Across the border, right? Somewhere in..." he tried to remember the state, but it kept eluding him. He frowned, and concentrated.
"Kentucky, I think," he finally said, then gasped as the pain returned with renewed strength. "My head!"
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I should have warned you - I think it's the drugs. As soon as you try to concentrate, the pain will start again," Prue explained and sent him an apologizing look.
"I learned that the hard way," she continued and winced. "I tried to use my powers, but the only result was a headache. When I tried again, I passed out."
"Powers? What do you do?" Kyle asked and rubbed his head. Damn, it hurt. He could barely concentrate for long enough to form a coherent sentence - there was no way he would be able to use his powers. Especially not if he wanted to control the result.
"I can create holes in the ground," Prue explained, and after seeing Kyle's look she elaborated a bit. "If I put my hands on the floor and concentrate, I can create holes, no matter what the material is."
Kyle nodded slowly, careful not to do anything that would make the headache worse. "My power is molecular manipulation...I can slow things down. Not the most useful of powers, but it keeps me alive."
A moan alerted Kyle and Prue to the fact that Suzuka was waking up, and somehow Kyle managed to crawl over to her without too much pain.
"What happened?" she mumbled. "The last thing I remember is giving one of the cops a knee in the groin...and then nothing."
"That's my girl," Kyle grinned, but quickly sobered up. "We're in a prison of some sort. Don't know where, and don't know how long we've been here."
"Damn," Suzuka mumbled, then rubbed her head. "My head hurts."
"Try not to concentrate too hard on anything. That helps," Prue advised.
"And you are...?" Suzuka asked weakly.
"Prue Marson. Your cellmate."
"Great," Suzuka muttered. "What about Jhonen?"
"Still asleep," Prue reported.
With an uncharacteristic clumsiness Kyle crawled the few feet to where Jhonen was lying, and even through the thick haze that engulfed his mind, he knew that something was wrong. Jhonen was pale, and with a growing feeling of worry, Kyle reached out to touch his face.
"He's burning," Kyle whispered, and a quick check of Jhonen's pulse revealed that it was unnaturally fast.
He looked at the other two.
"We have to get out of here."
"We can't use our powers," Prue reminded him.
Kyle sighed.
"No, we can't. But someone else might still be able to get us out of here." If he isn't unconscious..., Kyle silently added.
Kyle leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Years with Ryan had slowly created a psychic link between them, and he knew from experience that Ryan could hear him across fairly long distances. Hopefully, he would be able to alert Ryan before the drugs kicked in. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. The pain instantly got worse, but Kyle managed to push it aside for long enough to form one crystal-clear and desperate thought.
'RYAN!'
And somewhere outside Harrisburg, Ryan nearly drove off the road.
* * *
Although it was early when Laetitia woke up, Rina had already left - her bed was empty, and her bags were gone. Laetitia yawned, then got out of bed and put on a sweater and a pain of jeans. The clothes were very different from the expensive designer clothes she had been used to in Greece, but she had long ago learned that a person on the run could not afford to be picky.
Quickly checking that the others were still asleep, she walked down the hallway, past the door to Frank's room - which was still closed, she noted - then stepped into the kitchen. She closed the door, then grabbed the phone and dialed a number she could have recited even in her sleep.
The phone rang once, then twice, before being picked up.
"Daniel Lee's IT Consulting Agency, how may I help you?" a cheery female voice asked.
Laetitia sighed and rubbed her forehead. Damn, she hated morning people.
"Nike, 10783-24-C," she recited. A lot of things weren't what they appeared to be, Daniel Lee's IT company included. In reality, it was a cover for Sergey Nikolajevish' widespread, illegal operations - espionage, kidnappings, and assassinations, to mention a few. Laetitia didn't know how they had managed to convince the government to look the other way, and quite frankly, she didn't care. Sergey was a contact and an occasional employer, and she respected him too much to snoop around in things that were none of her business.
"I'll put you through to the Boss immediately, miss Tatapoulos," the women replied, and dropped the cheerful facade in favor of a more professional one.
"Thanks," Laetitia replied.
There was a moment of noise as the call was transferred to Sergey's office, then two more rings before it was picked up.
"Nike," Sergey greeted. His voice was deep, but not in a threatening manner. He sounded much like a kind uncle or grandfather, and he looked like that as well. A friendly Russian in his mid-forties, with gray hairs starting to replace the black ones, and a fondness for good red wine, of all things.
He looked harmless, and that was probably why he had managed to become one of the most powerful people in world of the criminals.
"Hey, Sergey," Laetitia replied, and sat down on the empty table.
"I trust that Frank delivered my message?"
Laetitia sighed.
"Yeah. How bad is it?"
There was a pause, and she knew that Sergey was debating how much to tell her.
"It's bad," he finally said. "The Greek lead was good. You're good at covering your tracks, but even then..."
He trailed off, and Laetitia felt a flicker of impatience.
"How long?" she asked.
"Depending on the skills of the investigators, the leads they find, the-"
"How. Long?" Laetitia interrupted, and this time the anger was clear in her voice.
There was a sigh at the other end of the line.
"Two months. One month in the worst case scenario."
"Fuck," Laetitia breathed.
"Nike, listen to me," Sergey continued. "Get yourself a new identity. Go underground...Asia, maybe. Somewhere with a lot of people, like Tokyo or Beijing. Stay low until things cool down a bit. You're young...don't get yourself killed because you're too proud to retreat when the ground starts to burn underneath your feet."
"I can't, I'm-"
"Think about it, Nike," Sergey interrupted. "At least think about it, okay?"
"I will," Laetitia promised. "Bye."
"Dasvidanja," Sergey replied.
Laetitia hung up and buried her head in her hands.
Fuck.
"What's wrong?"
Laetitia's head snapped up, but she relaxed when she saw Pheonix in the doorway.
"Nothing," she replied and shook her head.
Pheonix sent her a pointed look.
"Don't try to fool me. I know you, Nike."
Laetitia smiled faintly.
"Too well, it appears" she replied, and took Pheonix' hand. Dark brown fingers intertwined with Laetitia's tanned ones, and the older girl sighed. Pheonix was so young...she deserved a life with a loving family, and not someone like the Shadow Alliance. But it was too late for that, and if nothing else, Laetitia owed Pheonix the truth.
"The feds are closing in on me," she finally said. "One month...two at the most."
Pheonix eyes widened slightly, and Laetitia knew that she understood the implications.
"You're leaving?" she asked, and for a long, surreal moment Laetitia saw a frightened child underneath Pheonix' bad attitude.
"I don't know," Nike replied truthfully. "I really don't know."
"Please stay," Pheonix whispered anguished. "I don't wanna be alone again."
Laetitia just sighed and hugged the girl. If she stayed, she would get captured. On the other hand she couldn't leave Pheonix behind, and living underground was not something she wanted the young girl to experience.
Shit. When had life become this complicated?
* * *
*He, he* Oh, it's great to be evil ;)
Coming up: To rescue or not to rescue...and what is happening to Jhonen?
