(Thanks to Goodbadandeverythininbetween for her awesomely amazing ongoing support and optimistic reviews! As requested, an incredibly hot duel between Landon and Dempsey will take place in the final chapter! But I can't guarantee that Dempsey will win!)

A brief foreword: the Chris with technological powers in this story is not Chris Abely, it's Chris Plovert, just to clear things up. The Chris you are about to meet is Chris Abely, a different Chris! (The first Chris ran off to Alaska, remember?)

PART 9: as told by Dempsey

We had successfully arrived in Foster City.

Before our departure, we briefly discussed accommodation options. There was a cheap hotel called Foster Night-in that was secluded from the rest of the city, in a deep dark, crime-contaminated neighborhood located at the southern tip of Foster City. We would stay there until we devised a better, sturdier plan.

As we drove through the city, we became very, very nervous.

Just seeing the people was unnerving, commuting from work with briefcases, chatting with friends on the sidewalks. They all seemed like decent people; aside from the fact nearly all the residents of Foster City shared a potent resentment for supers.

"There it is," Derrick said, pointing at a bleak, crumbling building sitting on top of a hill littered with garbage and discarded car parts.

I grimaced at the sight of it. "Charming," I commented unhappily as I drove tentative circles around the building.

"Doesn't seem safe to me," Derrick said in a low voice.

I pulled the car into park and turned to face him. "It's better than sleeping on the streets though, eh?"

We emerged from the car warily. Cam had parked directly behind us, and as he jogged to greet us he removed his effective disguise and shoved it into a small backpack. "This is…" he paused, glancing around, "not really what I expected. Aren't you more organized than this?"

I gritted my teeth together impatiently. "Our arrangements were made on short notice. Besides," I added as I threw open the trunk and slung a few duffel bags over my shoulder, "we want to stay in the darker, quieter parts of the city."

Derrick removed the remainder of luggage from the car and slammed the door shut. "Let's go."

"Now, remember," I whispered to them as we drew near the entrance. "Absolutely no power usage, unless we're in danger. No one can know who we are. Or what we are."

Cam and Derrick nodded solemnly.

The hotel front desk was lit by a dull, fluorescent light, which was swaying back and forth shakily from the ceiling as the tenants in the room above participated in some violent, noisy, rowdy activities.

The boy at the desk looked up and smiled weakly. He was young, maybe a few years older than me, with curly black hair and narrow green eyes. He lay down his pencil and folded his hands on his coffee stained desk. "May I help you?" he asked in a professional tone.

"Um, yeah, we need a room with six beds or so," I said, somewhat shyly. Every aspect of Foster City intimidated, even its lower middle class hotel employees.

"Okay." The boy, whose shiny gold nametag read Chris clattered away on his keyboard and narrowed his eyes at the screen. "How many days?"

I exchanged looks with Derrick and Cam. "We don't know. More than a week though."

Chris looked up, frowning, at us. "Where are your parents?"

I swallowed. "It's kind of a graduation trip. We're like, declaring our independence or something." I lowered my eyes and prayed he would buy it.

Chris tapped a pencil against his teeth thoughtfully, then shrugged and continued to organize things on his computer.

I sighed in relief under my breath. Already we were facing difficulties, lucky for us this ordeal wasn't so hard to overcome. Just a minor case of disbelief.

Chris handed us a key, "room 203," he said. "Good luck."

I frowned and took the key.

Our room was as dismal as the exterior of the building. Bleak, colorless, and untidy. The maids hadn't taken the effort to clean out the bathroom. Or maybe they'd forgotten.

Derrick sat on the edge of one of the beds, sighing. "This is better than the Hilton," he said jokingly, but there was no trace of humor on his face. Just cold, raw sarcasm, no intention to cheer us up.

We watched television for a while, but the anti-super commercials started to freak us out, so we just lay on the beds, talking about the founders and the school and if Landon, Massie and Claire were okay.

Then Chris burst in through the door, apparently having eavesdropped on our tell-tale conversations, shouting, "I knew it! I knew it!"

I was the first one up, already struggling with the Velcro on my gloves.

"You!" Chris exclaimed, red faced, jabbing a finger in my direction. "I knew what you were the second you walked in!"

Derrick hurried to shut the door behind Chris, as to not involve other people.

I didn't know how to respond to Chris's accusation. I could approach it with a sturdy, well acted out denial, or, with violence and aggression. And I had already taken my gloves off, so I figured violence and aggression was the better choice.

"We don't want any trouble," I said calmly, raising my hands in the air. "We're not here to hurt anyone."

Chris was still panting heavily from the excitement of his discovery. "You have to leave. It's not me, I mean, my boss…she'll…she hates supers, I mean loathes them," Chris rambled in a rush. "She has a shot gun in the back. She'll use it."

"We can handle ourselves," I assured him. I didn't understand this concierge's motives. Did he want to help us? Because the manner in which he entered our room suggested otherwise.

"No, you can't," he insisted. "You're so young. Look at you?" he was near hysterical with frustration. "Unless you all have the convenient power of not-dying I suggest you leave this city. Immediately."

"Wait a second," I said. I walked towards Chris, inspecting him. He cringed away when I advanced. I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're not human, are you?"

He sniffed. "Of course I am."

"No," I said, firmly. "You're a super." I was sure of it. Since when did residents of Foster City express sympathy and compassion towards supers? And there was something about it. I always had a faint sense of people's abilities, whether they were dangerous, defensive, physical, psychic… And I had the slightest sense that Chris had an ability, a powerful one too…

"How dare you accuse me of that," he spat. "I live in Foster City."

"That may be," I said. "But that's your only defense. You don't deny it with anything else, but the sole fact you live here. That's why you live here, isn't it? You think you're safe from those types of accusations because you live in Foster City?"

Chris was silent. "That was stupid," he said softly. He looked at Cam, then Derrick, then back at me again, with those shifty green eyes. "Now I'll have to kill all of you."

He lunged without further warning. I knew his power at physical contact immediately. It was strength. And hell, he was strong.

He was preparing to throw me at, or out rather, the window when I grasped his bare arm with my exposed hand. He shrieked in pain and crumpled immediately. But the strength he had must've enabled him some kind of incredible resistance to pain, because he was standing in seconds, more determined than ever. He seized my elbow, covered with the cloth of my shirt, and with hardly any effort tossed me at the wall. The impact was horrible. But the landing was worse. I knew I couldn't fight anymore. I watched through one eye as the battle ensued.

Derrick was useless in this kind of fight, but Cam was the perfect opponent for Chris. I wanted to laugh when Chris threw a bone breaking punch at Cam's chest and it slid right through him. But it would've hurt too much to laugh. Oh the irony, I thought numbly as I lay there in immense pain.

Cam's advances were weak and sloppy, but he never failed to evade Chris's attacks. This battle was hardly progressing. But Chris was tiring. And once he was weary and worn, Derrick could enter the fight without having to fear Chris's deadly strength.

I tested my legs. I was sure I could stand, but I was afraid Chris would launch a second attack if he saw I wasn't really down. If he did, I would probably die.

Cam slipped up. He forgot to phase as he was concentrating on the perfect punch aimed at Chris's face. Chris kneed him in the ribs, and Cam fell soundlessly. The ceiling was low, so Derrick had no advantage. But he threw himself anyways at Chris, doing little harm. Chris had him pinned and struggling with the last remnants of consciousness in seconds. The defeat of my teammates had me up and running, cringing through mind-numbing pain, towards my enemy.

"Back for more?" Chris said, wiping the tiniest of wounds from his cheek, the only genuine hurt Cam and Derrick had inflicted upon him. "Now I know not to let you touch me, you sneaky bastard." He grinned.

He reminded me of someone from the school when he smiled like that—Layne. Then it dawned on me. Layne had always spoken of an older brother who lived in Foster City so highly. She was so proud of him for being "conniving" enough to live there secretly, even though he was a super like her.

"Layne!" I blurted out just as Chris raised his hand to strike me.

He stopped, and lowered his arm hesitantly.

I cradled my bleeding right arm in my left and said, "Layne, she's your sister, right? What would she think? She's so proud. She thinks you're so brave and good for being able to live here. What would she say if you killed us all?"

Chris scowled. "Don't try your mind tricks on me, you"—

"No mind tricks," I insisted. "I'm just asking you a simple question: what would she think of this?" I motioned with my good hand to Cam and Derrick, motionless on the floor.

Chris lowered his head and sniffled a little, in defeat or remorse. I capitalized his rare moment of weakness and lunged, grabbing his neck with my good hand.

He gasped and clutched weakly at my hand, slowly dropping to the ground. After ten seconds, he fell unconscious.

I leaned down to inspect him. "Sorry, buddy," I whispered.

I slipped on my gloves and helped Cam and Derrick up, shook them from their unconsciousness. "We gotta go," I told them. "It's not safe here."

PART 9 (continued): as told by Landon

The hotel concierge did not greet us kindly. In fact, I suspected this was in indeed the worst part of the city, judging by the poor concierge's state. He was pale, shaky, and there was a little blood on his cheek.

Massie, Claire and I approached the desk slowly, exchanging nervous glances.

"May I help you?" the concierge asked weakly. He didn't meet our eyes.

"Yes," I said. "Um, have two guys about our age checked in recently?"

The concierge jumped up and backed against the wall. "No, not again!" he pleaded. "He's not here, is he? There was so much pain!" he exclaimed hysterically.

"He's insane," Massie whispered, amazed.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "He's just shaking off the after-effects of Dempsey's death touch." I leaned towards the guy intently and asked in a calm voice, "did a guy about my height do this to you? With bronze hair and green eyes?"

The guy nodded vigorously. "Keep him away."

"Where did he go?"

The guy shook his head. "I don't know. I woke up, and they were gone."

I sighed and turned to my travel companions, disappointed. "Well at least we know they're alive. I wonder how they took care of the bearded man?"

"There were three, you know, not two," the concierge added, calming some. "One was very good at dodging my attacks, he phased right through them…"

"Attacks?" Massie echoed incredulously. "You attacked them?"

I leaned over the desk and seized the guy's collared shirt, lifting him several inches off the floor. "You attacked our friends?" I asked in a low voice.

"It was merely self-defense!" the concierge gasped. "There's so many of you! And the boy who has so much pain in him, he knew!"

"Knew what?" Claire prompted, frowning. "And," she turned to Massie and me, "Cam's here?" The concept absolutely delighted her.

The concierge struggled to free himself, ignoring the question. "There's so many of you," he repeated as he pulled away from me. "It's so dangerous."

"Landon," Massie whispered in my ear. "Maybe you should pretend you aren't that strong," she suggested mildly. "We're trying to keep a low profile here."

"Oh I think there's more to"—I paused, squinting at the narrow print on the concierge's nametag, "Chris than meets the eyes." I released him, and he scrambled towards the corner of the room. "For one thing, no amount of strength will ever shock him." I winked at him, and left it at that. He knew I knew, and that was enough to frighten him into never telling anyone of our little visit.

"Chris," Claire repeated thoughtfully. "You aren't Layne's brother are you?"

I grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the door, alongside Massie. "No time to lose, we got two, possibly three people to track down."

We climbed into the car and began talking animatedly all at once. Massie and I were concerned with reasonable things like the fact that we had lost our friends in Foster City, or that they'd been attacked, but Claire just gushed over how Cam had come after all.

The truck roared to life, at Massie's command, and we pulled out of the driveway.

Claire turned and watched the fading hotel in the distance. "I think that was Layne's brother," she announced in a puzzled tone.

"It's a small world," Massie replied flatly.