A/N: Before everyone starts freaking out at me for this, I'd just like to say beforehand that I thought you guys would rather read this thing in two parts than in one 25-page chapter. That said, yes, this is the last chapter, but split into two parts. The second part is almost finished, so you won't have to wait months and months again for it. Give me about two weeks and it should be done.
Also, I'd like to give a little credit to Yyunesprith for picking up on an error that I had missed! Your question inspired quite a significant part of this chapter, so thanks! (To everyone who has no idea what I'm talking about, I answer the question about what happened to Nikki's cell phone.)
One last thought: Originally, May was just going to be pretty much a cameo, a nod to fans of the Spider-Girl comics. But then so many of you seemed interested in seeing more of her that I couldn't resist beefing up her role a little bit. So I hope you enjoy it.
Fatal Reunion – Part I
Peter Parker couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was too impossible.
"Mr. Parker?"
He stared out the window without seeing anything. The phone slid slowly from his ear.
"Mr. Parker? Hello? Peter?" The woman's voice on the other end sounded distant, as though she was calling to him from another decade.
In reality, it was Peter who was a world away. Nikki? Alive? He was almost too terrified to think about it.
"Hello? Are you there?"
He shook his head to clear it. It took him some time to get his tongue working again. "Uh…yeah. I'm here, Emma."
"Good," she said. "Thought we'd lost you there for a minute. So how soon can you get here?"
Peter's brain had screeched to a halt at the beginning of the conversation. Now it was in overdrive. "I can be there in a few minutes," he answered, barely able to control the bubbly shivers of excitement that were flipping around in his stomach.
"All right. We'll see you then."
He reached to hang up the receiver but stopped himself. "Wait. Emma?"
"Yes?"
"I…" He hesitated. He knew that what he was about to do was completely off of a whim and a very unreliable messenger. "I need to see someone first."
The mild surprise in Emma Frost's voice was evident. "Who?"
"Tell you later. But it might take an hour or two."
There was an ear-splitting burst of childish laughter in the background. Peter leaned away from the phone. He heard Emma cover the mouthpiece to say something.
"What was that?" he said after the noise had quieted.
She sounded faintly annoyed. "It's our informant. You'll meet him presently." She paused, then, "He's writing something. He doesn't talk much," she added as an afterthought. There was another long wait.
"Oh," Emma said crisply. "Peter, we're going to have to meet you there. He says we don't have much time."
"Okaaaay." This was beginning to sound very odd. His initial swoop of hope was sagging.
"How long do you need?"
Peter did some quick calculations in his head. His mind was still a little scattered, and he had to force himself to think clearly. "Give me two hours."
"Done."
"Where will I meet you?" he inquired.
"The usual spot. You know it. We'll take it from there." She hung up.
Peter slowly returned the receiver to its cradle. He was numb; in shock. Do I dare tell MJ? If this is just a false alarm… He let the thought trail off discouragingly.
She'd be crushed. MJ would be absolutely crushed, and Peter couldn't bear to quash her hopes once again. No, he decided. It would be better if she never knew about it. Just in case.
In case what? He didn't let himself think about it.
He walked quickly back to his room, completely wide-awake, as if it was the middle of the day and not 5:30 in the morning. Mary Jane was still sleeping. She hadn't heard the phone ring.
Peter bent down and gently brushed her cheek with his lips. Mary Jane, the love of his life and the most beautiful woman in the world. She stirred slightly. A small smile played at her mouth.
He kissed her again and walked into their closet to change into his costume.
A few minutes earlier, May lay in bed, alert. She was thinking.
Thinking about Fantasma.
She hadn't told her father anything about that terrifying night several weeks ago. Yes, she had injured her leg. Coming up with an imagined explanation for that had been difficult. And yes, she was still baffled by the Spider-Man copy-cat who had led her to the walled complex.
But what frightened May Parker the most was the possibility of what she might, or might not, have witnessed.
Who was Fantasma? Was the purple and black costumed thief just another mutant? Or - and this was what scared May - was she someone much more familiar?
She hadn't told her father about all this for the same reason that Peter wasn't telling his wife about the phone call from Emma Frost. She certainly didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. That would have been terrible.
The noise of the phone ringing had awoken her. May had listened to her father having a brief conversation with some Emma person. She assumed that it had to be Miss Frost. Who else would call at this time of the morning wanting to see him immediately?
She wondered who Peter was planning to meet beforehand. Sure, he knew lots of people in high places, but she found it hard to imagine him needing more help than the X-Men could give. Maybe it was really serious.
And this brought her around to why she had been thinking about Fantasma in the first place. Was this about her sister?
May nearly gasped aloud.
Of course the idea had been in the back of her mind ever since she met Fantasma. But she'd never allowed herself to actually consider it.
She heard the sounds of her father hurrying from the kitchen to his bedroom. She lay very still and closed her eyes. But she needn't have bothered. He didn't even look in.
May didn't move for a full minute, and then made a snap decision.
She yanked the covers back, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Closing her door quietly, she undressed and changed as quickly as possible. Then she stepped neatly out into the hallway.
Peter halted his long stride abruptly when he nearly ran into his daughter stepping in front of him. She was dressed in full Spider-Girl regalia. She even had her arms crossed and legs spread apart. Probably to look tough, he thought with mild amusement.
"May," he started. He was still holding his mask in his hand. "This is something I have to do alone."
May could see the terrible worry etched all through his features as he spoke. He was no good at a poker face without his mask, she decided. "No," she said. "This is something we have to do together."
Her father bit his lip. He appeared anxious to be leaving. He kept looking past her. "Mayday, really. I've got to go. I don't have time for this."
"It wouldn't take any time if you'd just let me come with you." They were both whispering, trying to keep from waking anyone up. "She's my sister too."
Peter's face softened.
"And I think I can help you." As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Her voice had been too cocky, too I-know-something-you-don't.
Her father's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
May grimaced. She still didn't want to tell him about the incident in the underground facility. "Um, it'll take too long to explain now. How 'bout I tell you on the way?"
He seemed disinclined to agree at first, but then Ben staggered out of his room. He was wiping sleep from his eyes; his hair was matted every which way. It made him look like a disheveled miniature troll.
"Wuz goin' on?" he mumbled sleepily. He caught sight of their costumes and perked up a little bit. "Where ya goin'?"
Peter quickly steered his ten-year-old son back to his bed. "We're just getting up really early, okay? Tell Mom to call in sick for May and me. I don't know when we'll be back."
May grinned broadly.
"'Kay," Ben said, but he was already half-asleep.
"Ready?" Peter said to her, pulling his mask over his head. He glanced back toward the hallway, but saw no one. He turned around.
Spider-Girl was already perched on the sill of Ben's open window. She cocked her head at him. "Do you even need to ask?"
On the other side of the city, the exhausted group of thieves finally arrived at their dilapidated motel.
Krystelle hadn't spoken a word the entire way home. She had walked with them to the train station and then through the dark city streets with a numb expression on her face. She appeared to be in shock.
Nobody talked much. As soon as Fantasma and Krystelle stepped into their room, Krystelle ripped off her mask and collapsed onto her bed. She didn't even take her boots off - not that it would have mattered on the filthy mattress. Fantasma could count on one hand the number of times that room service had been up in the weeks they had stayed there.
She, on the other hand, had a long, leisurely shower despite the lukewarm water and took her time getting ready for bed. After surreptitiously drying and brushing her hair, Nikki checked the clock. 5:45 AM.
It still felt like night. For her, it practically was. Since no one had anything to do, they had been staying up later and later and sleeping most of the day away. Thorn was the only one who still retained any kind of schedule.
Nikki's gaze traveled over to Allie's hunched up figure. Had she moved? Her boots were still on.
"Allie?" she said. She had no idea why she was attempting to make peace with this infuriatingly stubborn girl. But the despair in Allie's eyes as they rode the train back from the X-Mansion…
The other girl didn't reply. Nikki sighed. "Allie?" she tried again. Certain that Allie was awake, she continued anyway, "How are you feeling?"
For some unfathomable reason, this question apparently necessitated an answer. The gist of what Allie said amounted to a disgusted "What do you think?" But her voice was gravelly from crying and her words were fouled by curses.
Nikki hesitated, startled by the strong language, before making a bold move. She stepped carefully around the clothes that littered the floor and sat down on Allie's bed.
The bedraggled-looking girl finally rolled over to face her. She regarded Nikki without speaking. Her eyes were red and swollen; her hair was still damp with sweat from the adrenaline-filled retreat. At that moment, Allie was the very epitome of misery and hopelessness.
"What do you want?" she said bluntly. "Do you want to gloat about Jake? Or just give me a few more reasons why I absolutely can't leave this…?" She trailed off on a string of vulgar adjectives about the group.
Nikki tried not to wince. Allie didn't usually talk like this. What could she say? The unhappy girl was making no effort to hide her bitterness.
"I never thought he'd say what he said to me tonight," Allie said hollowly. Her flair of anger seemed to have drained away, leaving her empty.
Nikki felt uncertainty growing inside her.
"I'm trapped, Nikki," Allie whispered, horrified. "We all are. We're trapped because some maniac wanted to turn us into thieves and killers." she stopped. Her eyes became cloudy. "I don't wanna live like this anymore. I can't leave. Maybe it's too late for us. Maybe we're all going to die. Maybe we should."
Now Nikki was starting to get a little freaked out.
Staring right through her, Allie murmured. "I wanted to see Nori. She got hurt pretty bad, you know?" Nikki nodded patiently, even though she had absolutely no idea what her teammate was talking about. I think she's lost it…
The other girl's sorrowful words continued. "But then Jake and Thorn, they told me I had to come back or..." She pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. "After what happened to my dad…and then my mom got jailed for something she did when she was younger. What was I supposed to say?" She sniffled. "Now I know that it was Groak's fault. Everything was his fault."
Nikki's stomach turned. Everything was starting to make sense.
Allie smiled vaguely. "Nori told them off really well, even though she couldn't even get out of bed: gave Thorn what-for and called Jake a green wannabe." Her eyes widened, still seeing something that Nikki couldn't. "But Jake grabbed me, made me leave. He's very strong. And before I knew what was going on, we were running toward the outer gate, and he was screaming at me to make some kind of staircase."
Her eyes refocused and she came out of her trance-like reminiscence. It was like she was seeing Nikki for the first time. "You shouldn't trust him, you know," she said, leaning in conspiratorially. "He's such a liar."
Then she giggled: a mad sort of giggle that sent chills up Nikki's spine. Still sniggering, Allie slumped back on the bed and was instantly asleep. She was still grinning.
Shocked and unnerved, Nikki scrambled off the bed as quickly as possible. Allie was losing it. She was acting flat-out crazy. Something in her had definitely snapped.
Maybe a good night's sleep would cure whatever was wrong with her, but Nikki doubted it.
Shrugging off the cobwebs of worry that brushed at her mind, she threw herself down onto her bed but instantly sprang up again with a cry of pain. Nikki rubbed at the sore spot on her back and stared at her bed. Lying in the middle of her dingy-colored sheets and looking none the worse for having been jumped on, was her cell phone.
Nikki blinked. "Where did you come from?" she asked it aloud.
She reached down and picked it up, automatically checking for missed calls, still not quite taking in the significance of her cell phone showing up in her room. It hit her about the same time she recognized Claire's number.
Nobody was supposed to know that they were here. They were in hiding. A chill of fear spread down her back. She shivered. Had Thorn stumbled upon her phone and returned it? That didn't seem likely.
"I lost it when I chased C-Cat," she murmured, barely moving her lips.
She had a voice message. Almost fearfully, she made it play.
It was Claire. She was terrified.
"Nikki," she hissed into the phone. "These men, they – they made me call you. They're," she lowered her voice even more. "They're threatening me. They said if you don't come, they'll…"
Then her voice became so garbled by panic and stammering that Nikki couldn't make it out. Her heart began hammering horribly in her chest.
"Ow! Stop it!" Claire cried. She sounded close to tears. "I'll tell her, alright?" she snapped miserably at whoever was making her talk. "Nikki, just come, please," she gushed compellingly. "Oh my gosh, Nikki, I'm so sorry." Claire was bawling now.
Her racking sobs died away as the phone was taken from her mouth. A harsh, gravelly voice spoke. "You know who this is, Fantasma."
Nikki went ice cold. Groak.
"If you do not show up within the next three hours, your friend will be sharing the fate of that vile Anderby." Groak breathed heavily into the phone for a full two minutes. Those two nauseating sentences seemed to have wearied him.
"Two hours and fifty-eight minutes, Nicole Parker," he finally wheezed. "The countdown has begun."
Click.
"What are we doing here?" Spider-Girl hissed to her father. She looked around the dark prison compound with distaste. "Who are you meeting?"
He rapidly cut her off by drawing one finger across his throat. She could sense his irritation, even upside down. The black backpack he was wearing hung loosely off his shoulders. He had refused to tell her what was inside.
Spider-Man waited for the security camera to turn away with agonizing slowness. Then he waved for her to follow. The two phantoms crawled stealthily along the ceiling, pausing every so often to wait for the coast to clear or for a camera to move.
It seemed to take forever.
Spider-Girl, who hated the long, drawn-out times of waiting, was itching to swing freely through the hallways and take her chances with the guards. She was beginning to understand why her dad had requested so much time from the X-Men.
She also had to admire his extreme patience. Could she have done this by herself? Probably not.
Soon they were passing cells. Spider-Girl wondered about the inhabitants of each one. She thought of how awful it would be to spend one's life cramped up in these miserable cells, each one designed specifically for its occupant's powers.
There were name plaques. The word Goblin was attached to several of these, but many of them she had never heard of. Her father pressed onward, never hesitating or veering from the path. He knew where he was going.
At last, they came to a halt. Spider-Man did a double sweep of the area before crawling down the wall and carefully dropping his feet over his head so that he flipped into an upright position. He slipped silently over to the door.
Spider-Girl remained on the ceiling. She knew her job was to keep watch. She squinted at the name plate, trying to make it out, but it was too dark.
The white door had only a small plastic window about the size of her father's hand. Spider-Man peered in.
There was movement behind the door and a face appeared. It was a woman.
Spider-Girl stared incredulously. The amazing Spider-Man wanted help from her?
For one moment that seemed frozen in time, nobody moved. Then Spider-Man shattered it by whirling and aiming a blast of webbing at the camera that was cruising leisurely toward them.
He tried to jam the keycard lock with webbing. That didn't work, although it did fizzle a little.
He eyed the number pad on the wall but seemed hesitant to touch it. Spider-Girl figured that it would probably set off an alarm if destroyed. So would the reinforced steel door.
The face in the tiny window was watching Spider-Man intensely, willing him to free her.
Spider-Man glanced up at his daughter. "Get ready to move fast," he said conversationally. He sounded quite calm.
Then he drew back his fist and smashed the keypad.
Instantly, the compound exploded in alarms. Spider-Girl clapped her hands over her ears. People were screaming, floodlights burst on, and cameras began swiveling at top speed, trying to spot the escapee. They would only be safe until someone realized that the camera by them wasn't working and came to investigate.
That didn't give them much time.
She looked frantically at Spider-Man. Luckily, when he had disabled the lock, the door slid open.
The woman rushed out and flung her arms around Spider-Man, half laughing, half crying with relief. He gave her a brief, noncommittal pat on the back, and then gently disentangled her. She had long, white-blonde hair that hung lankly against a thick orange suit. It reminded Spider-Girl of someone else's hair she had seen recently, but she couldn't put her finger on just whose.
"Nice outfit, Cat."
Felicia grimaced at Spider-Man's lame jest. She stared intently into the blank white eyes of his mask. "Why are you doing this?" she shouted over the sirens.
Spider-Man only grabbed her arm, pulling her down the hallway into a stumbling jog. "We'll explain everything outside," he hollered back.
Spider-Girl swung lazily behind them. "We'd better hurry up or we're all gonna get stuck here!"
Felicia, still being hauled doggedly along by Spider-Man, seemed to notice her for the first time. "Who's this?" she asked loudly. "Is she yours?"
He didn't turn around. "Yeah, she's my daughter. Spider-Girl, meet Felicia Hardy."
She began to correct him. "Actually, now it's Felicia Ca-"
A loud bark cut her off mid-word as they turned a corner. Felicia screamed as a ferocious-looking German shepherd lunged forward. He was headed straight for her leg.
His jaws snapped down on air.
Spider-Man swung easily over him, carrying the shell-shocked Felicia. "Sorry, Bud. Take a bite out of Venom for me next time you see him, all right?" he called to the dog.
It raced after them, but the trio was far ahead. A few minutes and several nerve-wracking close encounters later, they entered the lobby.
For a prison, it was a very fancy lobby, complete with Persian rugs, a large TV, and oak furniture. "Your tax dollars at work," joked Spider-Man to no one in particular. His daughter wasn't old enough to work and Felicia hadn't paid taxes in ages.
The truly magnificent feature of this lobby was the enormous glass window above the main entrance. It had been created specifically for the prison when it was built six years ago. Someone (probably somebody who wanted to avoid being locked up) had donated an insane amount of money to create the single, shining pane of glass.
But at that moment, to Spider-Man, it was not a work of art, but a nice, wide exit. He deftly swung Felicia behind him so that she was hanging, her arms in a death-grip around his neck. She gawked at the people waving their arms and shouting uselessly below them and the howling dogs that ran in circles.
The guards started shooting. Bullets whistled past them. She tried to duck her head but was getting jostled so badly, swinging back and forth like a rag doll, that she was sure it was pointless. Spider-Girl followed in their wake, zigzagging to dodge the bullets. They were nearing the single-paned window.
"Hang on!" Spider-Man roared.
Felicia squeezed her eyes shut.
There was one stunning instant of weightlessness when he released his webline and positioned himself so that his feet were aimed at the glass. Time seemed to be suspended during that brief stillness.
Then they made contact.
There was a deafening crash. The window pane exploded into millions of shimmering splinters. They burst through a shower of little crystals that refracted the light into a myriad of colors.
Just as quickly, everything went dark as they hurtled into the night.
The screams and barking gradually faded away. They were out of the compound. Spider-Man adjusted Felicia so that he was carrying her again and Spider-Girl wove in and out of his line of sight.
Felicia sucked in a deep breath of the air of freedom. She let it all out again in a whoosh. This was the first time she had tasted it in six years. It felt good.
She rested her head on Spider-Man's shoulder and for one beautiful second of time, she was able to pretend that she had made the right choice about him; that she hadn't been shallow and so caught up in her dreams that she could only love the mysterious Spider-Man and not the real Peter Parker.
She could imagine that she hadn't married a man for money and then watched her life ripped apart by a nasty divorce.
She could envision still knowing her child, the one that was born during her second marriage.
She could picture knowing her husband before his death, instead of being thrown in prison for past wrongs and only seeing him once a year for her entire detainment.
In that one, short second, Felicia could dream.
And then it was over. She felt his shoulder stiffen. She could sense his scowl beneath the mask. "Honestly, Cat," Spidey said in disgust, "I'm married." And that was that.
A few minutes later, they landed atop a short building. He put her down immediately.
Spider-Girl alighted beside them. "So now tell me, why on earth did we go through all that to get her out of prison?"
Spider-Man was already digging into the backpack. "I think it's all here," he muttered to himself. "Yep." He threw the bag to Felicia. "Here," he said as she caught it reflexively. "It's got all your stuff in it."
She slowly reached in and withdrew a long piece of black fabric. A corner of white fringe caught her eye. It was her long-retired costume. A weak smile twitched at the corner of Felicia's mouth. "But why?"
"It's time for the Black Cat to come out of retirement," Spider-Man told her soberly. "It has to do with my daughter. And yours, Felicia Camdon."
Nikki slowly closed the flip phone. She knew who was holding Claire hostage. She felt sick. It was her fault that her friend was in trouble and hers alone.
She spoke one word. "Groak." If anything happened to her best friend, anything at all, he would pay dearly. Oh, how he would pay.
Her brain reacted to this situation with surprising clarity and calmness. She hastily switched her pajamas for her thin, purple costume. Then Nikki ghosted through the wall and into Jake's room.
Jake was sitting on the floor, watching a racing movie on TV. A car screamed around the track. He didn't hear her enter.
Nikki marched over to him. "We need to go now," she informed him.
He leapt nearly a foot in the air. "Whoa! I didn't even know you were here! What's the big idea…?" He trailed off, catching sight of her stony face. Her green eyes flamed with an anger he'd never witnessed in her before. Her jaw was set. Jake had never seen Nikki so serious in all their time together.
Without questioning her, Jake got to his feet. He was still wearing his costume. "Okay," he said quietly. "It's Groak, isn't it?"
She didn't answer him. She didn't need to. Instead, Jake started a little as she thrust her phone into his hands roughly. "Listen to it."
Obediently, he put it to his ear and listened. His face darkened.
Nikki suddenly remembered Groak's threat. "If you don't show up within the next three hours, your friend will be sharing the fate of that vile Anderby." She watched for Jake's reaction. To her, it sounded like his dad was dead.
It seemed that Jake was thinking along the same lines. But he was less thrown by the news. "Always knew he'd get it someday," he mumbled dismally. Then he began doing something to Nikki's phone.
"Did you look at your pictures?" he inquired after a while.
Nikki blanched. "No!" she cried, grabbing for the flip phone. Jake held it out of her reach.
"Don't," he said seriously.
Nikki let her arm fall and didn't repeat her request. That phone was like a poison to her, holding all the pain in the world, sapping her strength of will. Instead, she asked, "Where is Thorn?"
Jake shrugged. "I don't know. She doesn't stay here."
"I know that," snapped Nikki impatiently. "But we have to find her now or go without her."
There was a knock on the door.
Nikki stalked over to it and ghosted her head through before he could object. Jake was stunned by her boldness. She wasn't thinking, just acting on brute instinct.
She pulled her head back in. "It's Thorn," she announced, and yanked the woman in through the door.
The ever-composed Thorn looked shaken. "Why did you do that?" she spluttered.
Nikki ignored her question. "We're going to see Groak. Now."
Even Thorn knew better than to disagree. She rounded on Jake. "Go get Allie."
He frowned uncertainly. "I don't think she'll want to come." They exchanged a significant look that Nikki didn't understand.
"That's just too bad."
Jake nodded mutely and swept through what was left of Nikki's fading blue residue.
The moment he had disappeared, Thorn touched Nikki's arm. "Now tell me what this is about?" There was unmistakable worry in her voice.
But Nikki pulled away. She said emotionlessly, "He's going to kill my friend if I don't show up in less than three hours." Her voice rose slightly in pitch. "What do you want me to do, sit here and do nothing? What would you do?" she asked pointedly, thinking of Skylar, the only person she had ever known Thorn to call a friend.
Thorn heaved a sigh. She knew who Nikki meant. "No. But I would still be reasonable enough to see when it was impossible. What could you possibly do to help? By going to save her, you're playing right into Groak's hands."
"I can fight," answered Nikki, lifting her chin defiantly. "Last time, he got me with a broken collarbone. I could barely stand up. This time I'll be ready for him."
"Do you think that Jake, Allie, and I were all helpless like you last time?" demanded Thorn icily. "He still captured us. We almost didn't make it out. I know you were in a bleary-eyed stupor, but I think even you can remember that much." Thorn raised her hand as Nikki started to protest. "Nicole Parker, Groak will take your powers away before you can blink. It's pointess."
Nikki closed her eyes. She knew Thorn was right. But to leave Claire to those horrible men so they could do who-knew-what to her? It was unthinkable. She shuddered. No. She was going to do something honorable now, even if it killed her. She would save the only friend she had.
In a low voice, Nikki said, "I'll take a gun."
Thorn turned away with a bitter laugh. Still chuckling, she sat down on Jake's unmade bed and started flicking off cookie crumbs at random. "You? Carry a gun? You wouldn't know what to do with it."
"I can manage," said Nikki brusquely. "Jake taught me how to aim."
The black-haired woman inclined her head slightly to indicate that she was mildly impressed. "But that still doesn't help you."
"Yes, it does," Nikki argued violently. "If he doesn't let Claire go, I'll shoot him. He'd do no less to her."
"You're right about that," agreed Thorn quietly. "Tell me, Nikki. Could you really shoot someone in cold blood? Could you look someone in the eye and commit murder?" Her gaze pierced Nikki's until Nikki averted her eyes.
The room was still. Finally, Thorn said in a stronger voice, "Consider it rhetorical."
Nikki looked up. The older woman stood and began bustling around the room, preparing to leave.
"Go talk to Jake. Get him to hook you up with a pistol. He always has something lying around." Thorn pitched a couple of shirts and socks into a well-worn laundry bag. Nikki watched, dumbfounded.
The black costume that lay crumpled on the table was swept up into Thorn's arms. She made to go into the bathroom and change. Without looking over her shoulder, she called, "And then we'll go."
Knowing she had been dismissed, Nikki walked softly to the wall, the blue glow already surrounding her silhouette. Preparing to ghost, she happened to glance back in time to see Thorn dialing a number on her cell phone.
That's weird, she thought. Who would she have to call?
She stepped into the wall just as Thorn's hushed whisper reached her sensitive ears.
"I'm packing up now. We're going underground." There was a pause. "No…Yeah, send somebody to pick it up. I have a feeling we won't be coming back."
Nikki ghosted through the wall, cutting Thorn's conversation short, the solid wall that separated the two rooms instantly silencing her words. But they kept ringing in Nikki's ears even as she went to seek out Jake. Why did they sound so ominous?
"I have a feeling we won't be coming back…"