Nobody ever wanted to fly Kaitlyn around in the helicopter.

The kid always thought that it was such a simple request. Because there was a helicopter in the Sanctuary's vehicle bay, there must have been at least one person in the Sanctuary who knew how to fly it. Otherwise, there wouldn't be much of a point to keeping a helicopter lying around, now would there?

If there were any helicopter pilots in the Sanctuary, they must have been keeping it a secret. Kaitlyn had been asking about it for months: "Do you know how to fly a helicopter? Do you know anyone else who knows how?"

The answer was always "No."

The girl had all but given up when she overheard a certain conversation near the library's computer area. She hadn't been eavesdropping, but one remark in particular caught her attention: "You can learn ANYTHING by searching for it on the internet."

Inspiration! Why go searching for a helicopter pilot when she could simply teach herself how to fly one? A quick Google search revealed several helpful web pages which outlined the basics of helicopter flight. There was a lever that makes the helicopter go higher or lower; a joystick to make the helicopter move forward, backwards, left, and right; and a pair of pedals to turn the helicopter around. Being a helicopter pilot sounded so easy that even a nine-year old could do it. That's exactly what this nine-year-old intended to do when she entered the Vehicle Bay one evening.

There was one major flaw in her plan, and she saw it as soon as she walked in: the Vehicle Bay had a ceiling. It was obvious that the portion of ceiling directly above the helicopter could open to let it through, but Kaitlyn could find neither a button, a switch, nor a lever that would do this.

To say the least, it was a frustrating situation to be in. Her well laid, ingenious helicopter joyriding schemes were all coming to an abrupt halt. What better way to express this frustration than by kicking a car?

As it turned out, there were a significant number of better ways for this girl to vent her frustration. The girl could have kicked the wall, the door, a bucket, or any number of other inanimate objects in the garage. She could have even kicked one of the other Sanctuary residents. Any of those things would have been preferable to kicking this car. The car in question was outfitted with a car alarm.

The screech of the car alarm was a surprise to everyone in the garage at the time. So was the explosion that a certain surprised little girl created only moments afterwards.

CRACKOOM

She watched as the cars near her got knocked into the air by the blast, and windows turned into shattered bits of glass as the shock wave reached them. All of this happened in eerie silence for the girl. Deafness was an occasional side effect of her power being triggered. It quickly wore off, and she soon heard that even more car alarms had been triggered by her explosion.

It was definitely time for her to leave.

There were, now that Hull came to think about it, a few perks associated with residing in a facility among other mutants whose own moral compasses were, if not fully shattered, then at least partially defunct. For one many of his new neighbors possessed egos which bore a remarkable similitude to oversized paper balloons on a wet day; the merest suggestion that another's mutation was little more than an allegory for floccinaucinihilipilification would spark idiotic indignation in almost any individual.

After they got their hands on a dictionary that is. Cretins.

Verily the sinister slaughterer could almost imagine he were back in high school, there were the same odious quotidian coteries, overlooked by the usual handful of hubristic gubernative individuals. An environment where miscue, parapraxis and plain cruelty occurred on such a frequent basis they were often dismissed out of hand by all except those who believed themselves wronged, thus there was little to discourage acts of revenge or formations of vendetta's.

It was, at its core, potential chaos distilled and Hull had been more than willing to provide the necessary catalyst to change potential into actuality. A mere fortnight after his introduction to 'Sanctuary', an inconcinnous appellation if ever there was one, the twisted traveler had managed to instigate several cafeteria brawls, force an impromptu evacuation of the facility via a simple sabotage of the sewage system, located and unleashed a pair of alligators along with an army of arachnids and other miscellaneous insects from a surprisingly large menagerie hidden away in the basement.

This wasn't to say that the Canadian killer escaped the consequences of his actions every time, he had a number of 'talks' with the petite Barbie doll who'd somehow managed to work her way to the top of the food chain. Despite the anarchist's constant urgings the woman had remained an obstinate iconoclast and simply hadn't been able to see the funny side of things, which was her loss really. In any case the end result had left him banned from the basement and only one hour of access to the cafeteria a day. A sentence the Hull had agreed to with an extravagant bow before promising to instill chaos elsewhere before then retreating at speed as a number of metallic projectiles which launched towards his cranium.

Thus is was that Hull found himself in Sanctuary's rather spacious vehicle bay, his emerald eyes perusing the selection of cars vans and motorbikes whilst another section of his demented psyche pondered precisely where the place obtained the funding required to continue its operations. Housing mutants was not a cheap assignment after all, however the line of thought was eventually dismissed as the malevolent wanderer finally selected a vehicle and got to work.

Carefully crawling beneath the machines underbelly with a flashlight clenched in his mouth for additional illumination the foreign fiend paused as he considered the collection of pipes before him. Most people when scavenging for pipe bomb materials will only consider the tail end of a cars exhaust pipe as it is normally the most readily accessible item. Hull however was not limited in quite the same way others were and so had no difficulty in cannibalizing a variety of components from any of undefended vehicle. Thus with no sense of malapropos the sinister menace reached upwards with glowing sterling fingers and began to dismantle the vehicle above him piece by piece.

A little under an hour after he had begun Hull was situated under his fourth vehicle as his argent fingers went to work on the front axle when things got somewhat out of hand. It began with the activation of a particularly odious car alarm which served as the foreign fiends first notice that he was not quite as alone as he'd previously suspected and led to the following line of thought,

'A Ghost busters themed car alarm? Genius! Why-'

CRACKOOM

A wave of concussive force cascaded throughout the immediate area impacting with numerous other vehicles causing metal to groan, rubber to screech and a cacophonous melody of other, far less imaginative alarms to activate.

Hull himself was considerably lighter than the surrounding cars, fortuitously though the explosive force possessed a rather short range and thus when it reached the morbid murderer he merely found himself skidding a foot or so on his back with the majority of the damage being taken by his jacket thus allowing him to regain his feet relatively quickly, albeit somewhat unsteadily, as with a critical eye, he scanned the newly crafted scene of mayhem which, for once, had not been his doing. It wasn't bad work he finally decided, somewhat confined and lacking in imagination but it wasn't without merit.

Abruptly his venomous gaze landed upon the petite form of a crimson haired child shaking slightly as she stood in what was clearly the epicenter of the chaos, only a side profile of the girl was visible to the anarchist yet he could make out a somewhat distressed expression scattered over features. The kid couldn't possibly have been more than 11, certainly younger than the darling Katrina he'd encountered in Central Park.

A look of inquisitiveness gradually crept over the travelers face as he crept forward somewhat inexpertly, a multitude of disjointed thoughts raced through his skull ranging from an approximation of the little girls weight and height to the practicality of a raw egg in a firefight. Within a handful of seconds though he had successfully manage to skulk around and behind the child who had begun to slowly back away from the mild scene of destruction. When she came within a foot of the demented wander he carefully crouched down, reached out a hand and...

Poked her.

With an axle shaft to be precise, the grungy piece of metal caught the lilliputian redhead in her left shoulder with a slow but determined amount of force designed to make the girl pivot in order to face him. He peered at her silently for a few moments under the layer of oil and grime which marred his own features before poking her again and finally speaking.

"Do it again."

Kaitlyn was horrified at what she had just done. Or, rather, she was horrified at the potential consequences. People would be very unhappy about this accident. People who frequented this garage often to make loving repairs and modifications to their respective cars. People who half-jokingly threatened to beat her to a pulp should she ever blow up said cars.

The girl knew that she had to leave immediately. Maybe if nobody saw her leave, nobody would think to blame her. She could blame it on somebody else. Better yet, she could deny any and all knowledge of this event should she ever be asked. The latter idea sounded much better. It was a good thing that she was the only person in the Veh

Poke.

Before her stood a man armed with some sort of strange car part. Whatever it was, it looked like he could really do some damage with it, should he so choose. Seeing as she had just blown up a handful of cars in the vehicle bay, she wouldn't be horribly surprised if he'd decided to swing it at her right then and there.

Kaitlyn shut her eyes and clenched her teeth. This suddenly seemed familiar. Familiar in a way that she dreaded more than anything else. But with this dread came one advantage: she was prepared. She knew what to expect.
He was going to start swinging any moment now...

Poke.

>>"Do it again."

Eyes opened. He wasn't going to hit her. Or, at least, he hadn't hit her yet. There was no time to think about what this man was telling her to do. There was only time to act. The result sounded like a thunderclap. It didn't move any of the cars, but it was more than enough to move the man in front of her.

Did I just do that on purpose?

On one hand, there was shame. Kaitlyn had just hit him with one of her explosions, intentionally. The fact that he had literally been asking for it did nothing to placate her. On the other hand, she had just triggered her power intentionally for the first time. This was wonderful! This was amazing! The child couldn't stop herself from forming a tiny grin.

The child cringed, hunching her shoulders and firmly shutting her eyes as she leaned away from the obsidian axle shaft which was nudging her upper ribcage and leaving a lovely trail of grease soot on the fabric of her shirt. All things considered the girl was doing a rather passable imitation of a timorous tortoise which could only truly be ameliorated if she were to crouch down and duck her head, two simple corrections which could easily be applied by, say, the use of an axle shaft.

Said instrument swiftly stroke up, then down with a simple flick of the wrist to connect with the child's cranium, uttering a dull 'thunk' which was practically inaudible amongst the continuous wailing of surrounding alarm systems. Still it worked in the demented anarchists favour for the diminutive redhead slowly opened one eyes, squinting cautiously out of the corner of her vision. Then, in a sudden sweep of movement, Hull's found that gravity had chosen to take a rather abrupt vacation.

Blasted from his feet by an invisible wave of concussive force the sadistic slaughterers form gained rapid velocity as it sailed backwards through empty air, such a gentle journey could not last long however and twisted traveler quickly collided with the warped remains of an achromic van, his mid air journey coming to an utter halt as spine and skull met distorted steel with a most unhealthy sounding thud before the rest of his body fell back under gravity's influence and slowly slid down the wrecked vehicle until only his feet were in view.

Concussions tend to impede certain activities such as consciousness and rational thinking. Fortuitously for Hull however the latter have never truly factored into his thought processes in any overt manner, and as for the former well, the constant, incessant throbbing in his lower back and head were rather good indicators that he'd somehow managed to retain a form of cognizance if little else.

Glancing around in a bleary manner from his inverted position the morbid murderer took note of a slight gap between the floor and the metallic wreck he was resting upon. Squinting slightly he was just able to discern a narrow pair of legs wrapped in worn jeans and tennis shoes; the precise same attire as the petite gamine he'd been so inquisitively poking. Connections slowly began to form.

It's been said that curiosity killed the cat, clearly in that case the felines error was the lack of a properly sanctioned poking stick. Clearly, had the cat possessed such a valuable implement it would have easily survived the rebuttal arising from instinctual inquisitiveness and then, being the haughty creature it is, sought swift revenge against its aggressor. Sadly though due to the lack of opposable thumbs such vengeance has never been achieved, thus it became clear to the demented, concussed, wanderer that his latest mission was to act in the place of curious felines everywhere and seek retribution, starting with tiny red haired girl.

Focusing for a split second against the constant pounding in his cranium Hull raised a solitary sterling tipped hand and watched with narrowed emerald eyes as argent skin glowed briefly and an object abruptly flickered into his grasp out of thin air, he tightened his grip and....

'Phweeeaak!'


Hull blinked and stared at the lemon shaded toy resting between his fingers, his features utterly deadpan as he gazed silently into the obnoxiously over cheerful eyes placed upon the things head granting the toy an overall expression which could have easily been attributed either dementia or pot. He squeezed once more and, on cue, another 'phweak'[/i] escaped the canary coloured rubber ducky.

Closing his eyes Hull lowered the toy from view and instead raised his other hand, focusing somewhat harder this time as he endeavored to picture clearly the item he wished to summon. Once again an argent glow surrounded the fingertips of his free hand which swiftly died the moment another, thinner, item flashed into subsistence. Slowly Hull opened his eyes and a malevolent grin stretched across his lips as he stared at one of the pipe bombs he'd constructed previously.

'Alright ambassador slim Jim, you'll be representing me on the floor, now get out there and work your magic. '

A quick glance through the narrow gap at the floor revealed that the child had remained motionless, making her a conveniently accessible target. A moments play with a lighter was that was required to light spark the weapons fuse and then send it rolling gently along the floor towards the apparently immobile gamine. At the same time the explosive was sent on its way the rubber ducky made another, rather abrupt appearance, over the tops of the cars wreckage.

'Phweeak!'

3...

2...

1...

...Nothing

Somewhat puzzled by the lack of any type of detonation and still somewhat disoriented Hull carefully raised himself into a more practical position on his elbows before hesitating a moment, opening his mouth, hesitating once again and then finally speaking in a resigned and somewhat sulking tone.

"You're still there, aren't you?"

The sound of the man's collision with the wrecked van gave Kaitlyn a jolt.

That sounded bad. Really bad. How badly did she hurt him? Was he okay? The girl couldn't tell; he was hidden behind a ruined van, which she had already damaged with the first blast.

Kaitlyn stared at the wrecked vehicle in front of her, thinking. Getting nervous. She just destroyed a majority of the Vehicle Bay's vehicles, and she might have just seriously injured this guy, even though he told her to do it. Regardless, his was at least ten times worse than when she messed up the Dining Hall. Everyone would be furious with her. They might even kick her out of the Sanctuary for it.

No... That was an awful thing to even think about. The girl liked her new home. She didn't want to lose it. But how could she--

Phweeeaak!

The noise was barely audible above the whines of the continuing car alarms, but a flash of light drew the girl's attention to the rubber duck that the man was holding, visible to her just above the warped metal of the van's hood. Kaitlyn didn't know what to make of this. Did the man just get hit so hard on the head that he went crazy?

She decided that she should go to check on him. Maybe if he had gone crazy enough, she could somehow blame him for the explosions, and people would believe her. Then, she noticed the rubber duck as it flew over the wreckage. With her eyes on the airborne squeaky rubber fowl, she couldn't have noticed the rolling piece of pipe that she was just about to trip over.

Concrete met face. Pain ensued. Oow... what was that? It was a pipe with a lit, sparkling piece of string attached to it. A piece of string that many would colloquially refer to as a fuse. Was it a bomb!?

The sputter of the fuse as it finally ran out was almost inaudible over the car alarms, yet the child was acutely aware of it. She cringed. There was no explosion, but the entire fuse was eaten up.

>>"You're still here, aren't you?"

"...Yeah," she said hesitantly.

Was that a dud bomb, or something else? Did the man roll it at her from under the car, or did it come from somewhere else?

"What..." she was going to ask about the bomb, but decided against it. If he actually sent a dud bomb at her, it would be stupid to tell the truth about it. She changed her question: "Are you... okay?"

Pipe bombs, all he'd wanted were pipe bombs; a device to inject a measure of vim and vigour into others lives... before then abruptly snuffing them out of course. Instead he'd received a crimson haired infant more volatile than a handful of hand grenades. It was a most fascinating turn of events, albeit rather painful, in fact if he tried to raise his lower back... yes, those were his kidneys, limited movement would likely be advisable for the next few moments.

"Are you... okay?"[/color]

Raising his head slowly over the edge of his twisted metal coffin Hull's unfocused emerald orbs slowly traced the intermittent ebony streaks of rubber along the cracked concrete floor to the prone child staring up at him with wide hazel eyes before his head promptly fell back with none to kind 'thud' which did nothing to ease the disorienting maelstrom of his thoughts, yet vaguely the addled anarchist recognized that he'd been questioned.

"Arr matey! Ye blew me away like'a cannonball!"

A disturbed grin decorated the foreign fiends features as he concluded his swashbuckling statement with a low chuckle before then slowly extracting himself from the remains of the van. He'd found a new game to play and he'd be a sorry excuse for a bilge rat before he allowed something as trifling as pain to distract him.

Upon regaining his feet a momentary stumble overtook him as his limbs readjusted themselves to the lay of the land. When balance was restored however the twisted wander sauntered over towards the decumbent gamine before crouching down and extending a hand.

"A talent as yours t'be prized for sure, I be captain Darling o' th' intergalactic house o' pancakes, what say ye to joinin' me crew? I gives ya me affadavia I gives ye a cut in any loot we take."

>>"Arr matey! Ye blew me away like'a cannonball!"

This exclamation filled the girl with relief. Suddenly, the man thought himself a pirate. He was obviously crazy, and so Kaitlyn saw in him a way to both wiggle herself out of possible Sanctuary exile and salvage her standing among the other residents. A devious smile took up residence on her face.

"Aye," the girl answered in the best pirate voice that she could muster. For now, at least, it would be best to humor the man. He was crazy, after all. His implied offer to help her up was ignored for much the same reason. She could stand up on her own.

>>"A talent as yours t'be prized for sure, I be captain Darling o' th' intergalactic house o' pancakes, what say ye to joinin' me crew? I gives ya me affadavia I gives ye a cut in any loot we take."

Intergalactic House of Pancakes? Captain Darling had an interesting, if newly acquired, imagination. Hadn't he been talking very differently mere moments ago? It probably takes a while to go really crazy after getting your head hit. Just keep playing along.

"Aye, cap'n, sounds t'be a most agreeable offer. Ye c'n call me... Faust. Where we be headin' to?"

'Kaitlyn Faust' had a much nicer ring to it than 'Kaitlyn McCarthy.'

'Concussions arise when ones skull is introduced to sufficient impetus so as to jar the brain, possibly bruising and the tearing of blood vessels. In quotidian cases, dealing with mere human minds, the effects of such trauma can often last for days. This simply goes to show how poorly designed their fragile little minds truly are, their frail psyches never developed the necessary flexibility required to adapt to the sudden shift in perspective accompanied by such blunt head force trauma.'

'I, however, have always made it a point of ensuring my ruminations adopt perpendicular paths in a world of rectilineal thoughts, it permits for rather entertaining experiences, even in my less than lucid moments.'

"Aye, cap'n, sounds t'be a most agreeable offer. Ye c'n call me... Faust. Where we be headin' to?"[/color]

The child had failed to accept the concussed anarchists hand yet she had made no move to hide her own and thus the demented grasped the child's undefended limb with almost zealous enthusiasm; one hand latching onto the redheads shoulder whilst the other entirely engulfed the girl's significantly smaller palm in a tight grip which was not quite crushing and eagerly pumped the girls arm as though it were lever.

"Yarr! That be what I wish'n to hear lass, ye shall be me gunner and first mate."

Abruptly as the grip had been administered it was released and the malevolent murderer swiftly drew himself back to his full height in order to stare down at the apparently amenable child before him, a deranged glint in his venomous eyes as his addled mind endeavored to piece together the next likely step of action in this implausible performance.

"Gen'r'lly t' first order o' business be to commandeer a suitable vessel, in t'is case though we be havin a mite case o' badluck."

A meaningful glance was given to surrounding wrecks to emphasize this point before the twisted traveler continued in a more boisterous cadence to assure cynosure as he quickly ushered his first mate towards a desolate staircase which would lead them back towards Sanctuary proper.

"Still, there be a silver linin' t' our troubles say's I, for now we has time t' rope some hands and get a proper crew full o' sea dogs, and I be knowin just where's to look. Pick ya pace girl, this be no time for lollygagging."

With a somewhat forceful tug Hull jerked unwitting accomplice into the barren stairway and behind the door just as the faint 'ping' of the elevator announced the arrival of what was likely rather distressed vehicle owners, or soon to be once they took stock of the damage. In anycase there was little time available to dwell on the problems of others, no matter how amusing they might be. A crew needed to be assembled!

...well, perhaps crew was something of a stretch; technically they'd be following the Canadian killer's wishes but , in general, most animals are inclined towards chaos when abruptly released from captivity. Especially alligators and monkeys and gecko's and spiders and snakes and kangaroos and, well, pretty much everything sitting in the jury rigged menagerie down in the basement. Admittedly most of the creatures would need some encouragement to evacuate their dwellings, but that was fine as, by rather happy coincidence, he'd stumbled across a little girl who was ever so skilled at clearing a room.

This was going to be fun.

'Ring! Ring! Ring! I'm annoying!' That's definitely what a car alarm would say if it could talk. And it wouldn't ever shut up. It made it difficult for little girls to hear themselves think about piracy.

Kaitlyn considered her new title: Gunner and First Mate Faust. The little girl suddenly realized that she was part of a pretend pirate crew. Even though the Captain in this little game was a delusional crazy person, he was still playing pretend with her, whether he was aware of this fact or not. It was hard to find people to play pretend with in the Sanctuary. The kid may have been playing along just to keep the crazy guy happy, but that didn't mean that she couldn't have fun with it, too.

One thing was for certain: it wasn't luck that stopped them from finding a 'suitable vessel' in the vehicle bay. It was a severe lack of boats, and a car wouldn't even make a good pretend boat. But... Kaitlyn gave the still-intact helicopter a meaningful glance. No self-respecting pirate would run around in a Volvo, but a helicopter was a different matter entirely. Before she could say anything, the Captain was already directing her towards the stairwell.

>>""Still, there be a silver linin' t' our troubles say's I, for now we has time t' rope some hands and get a proper crew full o' sea dogs, and I be knowin just where's to look. Pick ya pace girl, this be no time for lollygagging."

So he intended to recruit more people for their piracy. And he was in a big hurry to do it. She really had to kick her tiny legs in gear just to keep up with the man.

Ping! Elevator.

It was totally okay for them to be hurrying along like this, the girl decided. As the door closed behind her, she heard an angry yell over the cacophony of car alarms. Nothing that pirate recruiters such as Captain Darling and First Mate Faust had to worry about, though. They needed to think about finding more prospective pirates, not massively destructive accidents of which they have no knowledge or recollection.

"Captain, where are..." No. That wasn't pirate-speak. "I mean, arr, cap'n! Where we be findin' this crew yer talkin' about?"

One of the key aspects of any moderately successful escape is an element of alacrity; a heightened tempo, a sense of limited time accompanied by a continuous feeling of impending doom. This is what causes the blood to pound in the ears, the adrenaline to surge through veins, muscles to tense and breath to catch. It could almost be called a sensation of anticipation as one waits with baited breath for fate to make the next roll of the dice.

It is an experience which is somewhat hampered when one is required to stop every several feet in order to allow a lilliputian minion with noticeably shorter limbs to keep pace. What was generally called for in such situation was an application of suitable motivation, typically through the medium of impetus or possibly calidity should appropriate tools be available. In this particular instance however one needed to take into consideration the skills of the minion in question; namely the ability to replicate the concussive force of a dozen or so cannons.

While Hull's thoughts may still have been somewhat jarred his subconscious survival instincts were still functioning well within acceptable parameters and thus acted as a rather effective stranglehold on the anarchists instinctual action of delivering a calculated blow to the upside of First mate Fausts head, instead forcing the Canadian killer to hesitate and consider an alternative solution accompanied by the rather entertaining mental image of a shoulder mounted cannon.

It was simply too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Captain, where are... I mean, arr, cap'n! Where we be findin' this crew yer talkin' about?"[/color]

Without waiting for athirst ingénue to finish phrasing her query the twisted traveler's travelkers hand abruptly snaked out, snatching the svelte child by the back of her shirt and swiftly drawing the girl off her feet in order to whirl her through the air and onto the demented wanderers own back before he then deigned to reply to the surely shocked gamine. "If you've time to yammer me hearty ye ain't mov'in fast enough."

Having delivered his nugget of piratical wisdom Hull allowed his impromptu passenger a brief moment to secure herself before he once again began his rapid descent down the stairwell; gripping the inner railing of each flight and deftly vaulting himself over the narrow gap separating each case of stairs before then landing on the balls of his feet and almost instantly repeating the maneuver so the overall effect was that he spent more time in the air than on the ground.

It was in no time at all therefore that the swashbuckling pair found themselves down in the poorly lit depths of Sanctuary's subterranean levels traveling at a somewhat more sedate pace where Hull had taken the opportunity to shift his first mate to a somewhat more comfortable position atop his shoulder before beginning to whistle a suitable shanty to set the mood. The sound carried an impressive distance, becoming somewhat distorted as it traveled until it reached the point where one could easily believe there were at least dozen individuals supporting the song.

Eventually though Hull came a stop before a pair of rather heavyset metallic doors emblazoned with a rather garish exclamation mark, below which was inscribed a rather crude warning the writers mother would most likely not approve of. Hull likewise took a rather dim view, though his face had shifted into a malevolent grin at the thought of being able to utilize his shoulder mounted armament as he raised an open hand pointed towards the offending barrier.

"Gunner Faust! Ready yer cannons and blow this bilge cursed door ta Davy Jones!"

Suddenly, the girl's feet were no longer touching the ground. "Wha--?"

And now she was on Captain Darling's back. He was going to carry her because she was moving too slowly. The first mate barely had enough time to securely fasten herself to her captain's back before he began to leap across the stairwell. For the next few moments, Kaitlyn was holding on for dear life in a blur of motion and dizziness.

When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, the girl resisted the temptation to exclaim 'do it again!' It didn't seem like an appropriate request to give to a possibly crazy person; she followed his urging to sit herself on his shoulder instead. Besides, they had some pressing business matters to attend to. Pressing pirate business matters. In the basement.

For all the time that she had lived here, Kaitlyn had never gone into the basement. Why did they have to go to the basement to find pirates? It was kinda creepy; the lights were dim and yellowed, and they made that irritating fluourescent buzz. The captain's whistling helped to mask the infernal buzzing, but it was still there. Federal agents probably used this noise to torture inmates in Guantanamo and other such illustrious prisons.

That's it! We're in an underground prison, and we're busting out his pretend pirate friends.

That's obviously why he was taking her here. Why would a pirate ever go to such a dreary, underground place? To bust out his fellow swashbucklers, of course! Who else would he buckle his swash with? The buckling of swash was probably something important to pirates, the girl thought, judging by how often she'd heard people discussing it.

>>"Gunner Faust! Ready yer cannons and blow this bilge cursed door ta Davy Jones!"

"Uhh..." Those metal doors were big. She also learned a few new words from the graffitti on it, and to paraphrase one of Ms. Cook's sayings, it's always improtarnt to expand one's vocabulary. Vocabulary aside, though, Kaitlyn didn't know what to do about these doors.

Maybe she could just pretend to shoot a cannon at it? "Aye Aye, cap'n!" she said finally. Putting her arms out to adjust an imaginary cannon in front of her, she closed her eyes and envisioned a cannon firing and blasting the door down. Just as this imagining was happening, a loud CUH-RACK echoed through the lower levels of the Sanctuary. The door dented in and got knocked off of its hinges after a directed blast of pressure collided with it. The child was knocked back by her own blast, falling off of the captain's shoulders and knocking him over as well in the process.

The girl's arms hurt, now, and that fluorescent buzz was replaced by an even worse noise: a high pitched tone in her ears. Anything other than that infernal screeching sounded like it was coming from far away.

How did that happen? At least they could break out his pirate friends, now. After several moments spent shaking off her disorientation and trying to ignore the pain in her arms, she sat up to survey the damage that she had caused.

It's okay to blow things up in the basement, right? Nobody cares about the basement.

CUH-RACK[/i]

The metallic doors crumpled and folded, emitting a strenuous screech as they collapsed around the invisible missile which had struck dead center. Then there was a brief, almost hesitant moment before the hinges also succumbed to the sudden strike and the entire distorted collection of metal fell back with an ominous clatter which echoed with a disconcerting clarity along the desolate hallway. It really was quite an impressive sight.

At least, it would have been had the recoil of Hull's newly implemented shoulder cannon not sent him crashing to the floor with sufficient force to knock the breath from his lungs. Still though the demented anarchist was at least able to perceive the cacophonous as the twisted slabs of metal fell to the ground and that was better than nothing, but then again, quite a few things are so the value of this was dubitable at best.

After a moments mental processing to clear what clutter he could from his thoughts the Canadian killer pulled himself up into a sitting position and surveyed he had, if not directly caused, at least ordered. His features split into a grin as he peered beyond the wrecked doors and into the darkened room they had failed to guard. Even without lights there was a faint suggestion of movement within the room along with a steadily rising chorus of clicking, hisses and grunts which only caused the twisted travelers grin to widen.

This was a good noise, it meant there were more than last time.

"Well I'll be damned, a fine job Fuast, now let's be mov'in!"

Hull leapt to his feet, admittedly somewhat awkwardly as his mind attempted to accommodate his sense of equilibrium with the slight ringing in his ears. Still he managed maintain his balance and proceeded several steps before he registered the lack of response from his diminutive first mate and abruptly pivoted to survey his sole crew member.

The child was lying prone on the ground, unmoving, yet as Hull watched the girl managed to shift herself into a sitting position without any obvious difficulty which was a fairly good indication she'd avoided any serious form injury and thus was likely to still be useful. However her eyes held a dull glaze and if the manner in which she was gingerly prodding her ears were any indication the gamine was currently experiencing a lack of hearing though that was liable to pass relatively swiftly.

After spending a few seconds to verify that girl was indeed at least momentarily deaf but otherwise relatively capable Hull popped the ingenue up and set her on her feet... only to watch with a vaguely amused expression as her backside swiftly became reunited with the floor. Clearly the girl had never had the pleasure of working in close quarters with explosions before and as entertaining as it might be to watch child stumble around there were more pressing matters to look into.

Grasping the back of the lilliputian redheads shirt the morbid wanderer hoisted the child upwards and placed her atop him once more. A portable, shoulder mounted cannon, was not something to be discarded lightly, even if it did come with high recoil and a cool down period. In this case, it was just too damn cool to be left behind.

With his first mate/artillery firmly fixed in place Hull's attention returned to breached room, the variety of sounds emanating from within had only grown in the past few seconds which only caused the Canadian killers eyes to widen with manic enthusiasm as he stepped past the battered threshold and switched on the lights. Pale luminescence flickered for a moment casting wild shadows and granting fleeting glimpses of large wire meshed cages before the bulbs calibrated themselves and brought everything into sharp focus.

...oh boy

...wow

...heh

He'd been wrong, there weren't more of them, no they'd just gotten bigger.

This was going to be Leet.

Captain Darling was saying something. Kaitlyn could tell that much. Just what he was saying, however, was entirely unintelligible over that ringing noise. Perhaps he was explaining his reasons for putting her back on his shoulders.

Now the ringing noise was dying down. The fluorescent buzz of the lights was still there to take its place, but it had been joined by a variety of mysterious sounds while she was deafened. When the lights came on, she learned what these noises came from: animals which were all much larger than they were supposed to be.

There were four rats the size of large dogs, their tails occasionally hitting against their wire-mesh prisons and making a metallic rattle. In the cage right next to them was a spider that looked big enough to eat a normal-sized rat. A number of abnormally large frogs hopped around the room. Multiple fist-sized flies flew around erratically, crashing into the ceiling, the wall, or one of the cages every few seconds. Most notable however, was the cluster of gigantic snakes in the corner of the room. It wasn't much of a stretch to imagine that one of those snakes could eat her. The child shook a little at the thought.

Mr. Darling seemed to be quite pleased with himself, though. This seemed rather odd, as what remained to be seen was an actual pirate crew for them to recruit. Wasn't that why they came down here in the first place? To find more pirates?

"Cap'n, are we in the right room?"

The menagerie was somewhat less Spartan than the Canadian killer recalled from his previous encounter; indeed it almost seemed as though the area had been neglected for quite some time, possibly this was due to the numerous... incidents, which had occurred throughout sanctuary since the malevolent murderer arrival. Alternatively the caretaker had simply become rather lackadaisical in their duties; a few of the creature did seem rather thin.

Hull considered this something of a bonus, if the animals were hungry than it just meant they'd be more motivated to seek out a meal and thus generate additional chaos when they made it to the main areas of sanctuary. Still though, the twisted traveler couldn't help but feel that something was missing, that a sine qua non was somehow lacking. The malevolent wanderer paused and took stock of the rooms creatures once more, emerald eyes darting from cage to cage. jumbo rats, check. hand sized fly's, check. gargantuan snakes, also check-

"Cap'n, are we in the right room?"[/color]

The deranged anarchist abandoned his impromptu mental listing and his gaze shifted to the petite child on his left shoulder. The girls enthusiasm seemed to have waned upon spotting the supersized animals, a response Hull simply couldn't fathom, seriously, what wasn't to like about snakes which could constrict a car? Children these days seemed to have no real sense of adventure, it was a most deplorable state of affairs which needed to be dealt with.

"Course we are lass, use yer deadlights, can't ya see what we be havin' here? An almighty menagerie, they be t' perfect distraction. And while they be causin chaos up above, we can gather more hands without interference."

Now where had he been? Ah yes; rats, fly's, snakes, spiders and... what was through door number two over there? In the interests of science he was obligated to find out what was worth hiding in another room. It could just be a supply closet, it could just be a bathroom, or it could be the base of operations for previously undiscovered mole men working around the clock to disrupt the natural flow of the earth's mantle to induce aberrant tectonic plate movement and thus generate numerous earthquakes around the globe, destroying cities, compromising global infrastructure and eventually bringing an end to modern civilization.


...well, it could.

In any case nothing would be proven until the first step was taken, thus with a handful of confident strides Hull approached the door, braced one hand against the frame and with the other wrenched the portal open; ready to act at a moment's notice should any dwarf like figures appear. If anyone was going to bring down humanity, it would be him, thank you very much.

No diminutive creatures emerged from the surprisingly large chamber, and while this was somewhat disappointing it was more than made up by the presence of the creature in the overly large cage.

Giant monitor lizards were far superior to mole men.

Epic mount anyone?

A distraction? Of course! Her imagination picked it up from here. Vivid thoughts of daring escapes amidst widespread chaos danced through the first mate's head.

"Arr! 'tis an excellent plan, Cap'n." This was a particularly enthusiastic pirate voice; she was finally starting to get in character.

While British naval officers (the enemies of all pirates) were distracted by the ginormous creepy crawlies eating the stupid ruffles on their uniforms, the Captain and First Mate would sneak into the prison, blast the locks off of their pirate comrades' jail cells, and fight their way out to commandeer a ship. Immediately afterwards, there would have to be a ship to ship battle with tons of cannon fire and swordfighting. The ship battle was, of course, essential to the story of any self-respecting, daring pirate.

The girl grinned in anticipation. This was going to be awesome, just like it woud be in a movie. Of course, the Sanctuary lacked most of the stage props and such to make a proper high-budget pirate blockbuster, but who needs that when you have the powers of pretend? At the very least she could probably try to make up for their lack of gunpowder with her mutation, assuming she could make herself use it on purpose again. It would be safe to do this in the basement, too, because nobody ever goes down into the basement floor, so nobody would really care if she messed it up. Captain Darling seemed the sort to even encourage such use of her power.

Now all they had to do was open up the cages and... once again, the Captain had his own plans. Ambling over to a door, he turned the handle, and entirely failed to disappoint the child. Behind this door was a gargantuan komodo dragon, which stared at the two swashbucklers from its prison and occasionally let out a loud hiss. This was, by far, the largest animal that Kaitlyn had ever seen outside of a zoo, and it was even a carnivore. It had to be tame, though, because it was sitting around in a cage. A domesticated animal wouldn't try to eat people, and it probably wouldn't even cause very much damage. It would be perfectly safe to let this beast go loose in the Sanctuary unrestrained.