There are times when the gut is right. That twisting, burning horror is everything you hoped it wouldn't be. Ghost prayed to anything and everything that this time, her gut was wrong. There was no sudden cry for help. No loud noise. Just a sudden sinking feeling behind her heart. What was wrong? Surely she must have heard something...

Naw. She was just being paranoid. The shop was closed. Her homework done... enough. Everything locked down tight and the lights extinguished for the night. She'd checked twice before making her way out into the late New York night, but there was still something wrong. Her spider sense was tingling.

Ghost wasn't afraid to walk alone since she had the ultimate trump card, for who could hold air any more than someone could hold tightly onto water in their bare hands? Well, Except that man with the truck... okay, so her ultimate move was not so ultimate anymore. But that didn't mean the world was full of humans that were out to get her and were all actually able to do so. Ghost sighed and smoothed her less-than-pressed dress shirt. The days wrinkles just wouldn't blend out with just her hands.

She pat her pockets checking that her keys and wallet were still present as she walked briskly down toward the better lit side of the sidewalk. The night was by no means abandoned, but there was a certain quality to the late night crowd. Everyone had somewhere to be. Everyone who did not have somewhere to be was to be suspected.

He was walking the city. Expanding knowledge, a small black beetle he must be for those looking down one of the skyscrapers, those high rises that seemed to house so many businesses that the economic situation of the country could be judged based on the vacancy rates of those bureaus above him. What might those people up there be doing, thinking? Would they look down or up? He decided, that he would have to get in one of those another day, when the shadows were not as deep and the lights in the windows were not dwindling. Yes he was a beetle, but one growing steadily.

Shadows, shadows so deep were falling – he stood by, as the shadows of the buildings made their way across the street, moving towards him, covering his feet, himself. It all happened so fast.-
A simple lapses this was, but none so easily taken, as he barely noticed. Blink. The sun was replaced by the neon lights of the lanterns above his head.

He continued his walk.

He had picked himself a simple target. For today and it were not the high rises. He wanted to see into the back alleys of those streets around him and would not be deterred right now. How would the city look from that perspective? Stone to the left, stone and concrete to the right, the space in between barely 3 meters and yet the New Yorkers seemed intent on narrowing it down a little more and had placed all sorts of obstacles in his way. Trash bins and waste from the former being the most common. He looked up and the sky was only a thin line above, the walls of the houses looming over him, ready to crash down.

„My what have we found here? Looks like someones dropped us a present.“

A female voice caught his attention, as the apparent speaker rose from behind a trash bin, which seemed to be a fitting place for her in his eyes. She was wearing something that looked like a good attempt at what was supposedly female clothing of the day, the few straps of cloth barely covering her most intimate regions, yet doing so in such clinging manner, as though they were not there. She flexed her naked arms and started to walk up to him, hips swaying.

„Mymy, such a pretty surprise.“

As she came closer, tapping her finger at her chin, he gave her the most icy stare for ruining his tour of these fascinating wormholes. On the other hand she obviously was part of the tour. The thought made a small smile appear on his face. Taking a few swaying steps more the girl was within, what most people would not describe as comfortable distance any more. And she kept coming closer, her steps barely audible. The little bits of light, that were still falling on his path illuminated eyes with alarmingly dilated pupils, much to much so even for this darkened spot. Even though she tried to make up for it with what could be best described as humming sounds, a cold chill went down his spine. He did not move his head an inch, as her hand extended towards it, nor any other part of his body.

„Oh delicious you. The stiff ones are best, once loosened up.“

Before her hands made contact with his face, one of his gloved hands shot up and grabbed her wrist tightly,. His smile had turned into a snarl, while her expression was slow to change. It was as if she needed a few seconds to realize, that she was not touching his skin, but that her hand was in the very uncomfortable position of being held hostage. Her eyes – he was surprised to fiund, that that was even possible- widened with shock.

„You are despicable.“

These words were the only ones this „Lady“ would get from him, while he changed his grip slightly, avoiding the hand she shot up at his face. Her legs had shifted position for her furious attempt at getting the hostage freed, so her position was perfect and the movement came on his own accord. Before he himself realized it, he had tossed her with one fluid motion he sent her body, where her mind already was. An Uchi Mata had her flying, without him even having to use any force.

She was much lighter, then he had expected.

Looking at him from the ground she sent him a puzzled look, that changed into fury over several steps including disbelief and lust. At last she started wailing in a high pitched sound, that somehow pierced its way through to his heart. This poor girl was wasting her life and he had just made it worse. He had even reinforced her needs and desires, her insecurity that ever drove her into seeking more safety, where she could not get some. It was all plain and clearly written before his eyes. He turned around and fled the alley, out into the streets without looking back once. The sound followed him.

A frigid wail sounded from no where and everywhere. It stopped Ghost cold in her tracks and for two or more breaths she stood trying to decipher the direction of the terrified screech. Was someone in trouble? She should go. Eyelids squeezed tight and Ghost's resolve firmed. She was an Xman. Sworn to help mutant and human alike no matter the hour or her discomfort level.

The tension palpated in the air as she turned toward where she imagined the scream to have originated. Did the people of this city never get tired of doing bad things?

Turning down into an alleyway slender enough that Ghost could trail her fingers along both slimy walls, she made her way over refuse of all kinds. Was it this way? She thought she saw a shadow move around a corner and pursued it down and around through the buildings. She smelled him before she ever saw him, but she didn't stop until she had his shoulder in her hand.

Instantly she felt foolish. What did she say to this man? He probably wasn't the origin of the effeminate screech. But... maybe he would know? The taste of panic flared up in her throat. She had to go. Now.

"Gerroff me!" She released him as per his request.

"Sorry." She breathed her apology before turning and very nearly bumping into another man. She'd been in too much of a hurry to leave and this man was very solid. Ghost jumped back from him the same as she might have bounced off of the brick wall next to him.

"She bothering you Jerry?"

"S-she touched me."

He arched a brow at Ghost. "You don't look the type to molest homeless men, but I guess it's never the ones you suspect that are the most dangerous."[/i]

"Molest!?" The word was more squeak than word. Thunder sounded and the tension in the air only increased. Ghost was backing up slowly. She just needed to leave. "I... the scream... I didn't!"

"Wait. You screamed?"

"No-I..." ran foolishly straight into the dark alleyways and chased down your homeless pal. No one ever believed she was stupid enough to do the things she did. "...I was just leaving."

The man snorted and let Ghost pass. He could have been a policeman or maybe just a worker from a shelter, but she was embarrassed to have dashed through dangerous territory on her own... again. She walked on, back the way she came or the way she thought she came. Her direction sense was severely crippled beyond her typical routes between the bookstore and the Mansion.

She actually scuffed her feet as she walked along. Was she a bad person if she left without trying to find the origin of the scream? Would that appease the sinking feeling in her gut? Ghost sighed a long and slithering sound and looked up at a dead end. Blink. White hair swung side to side as she took in her surroundings. This... this should be the exit! This was where she came in! Ghost ran her long fingers across the grease-coated brick. Satisfied that the wall was real, she looked at the grime on her fingers. It stood out black against her pale skin... what now?

She turned to again retrace her steps and kicked something fleshy. Horror set in as she closed her eyes against the scene. It was her turn to scream, but there was no scream forthcoming. Ghost just wasn't a screamer. She had to call that in. Apparently she arrived too late to help the screamer. Ghost swallowed and ran and ran and ran and ran until she was out on the sidewalk again. Whatever had hurt that woman was still out there after all.

The fact, that someone was following him, did not elude his senses. Even in his present condition, especially in his condition, being on guard was invaluable for survival. Why do I always have to stay guarded? Why? Somehow that thought only made matters worse, as he walked a brisk pace. He was not running from the thing behind him. He would not run. Why run anyways? It was all so senseless. Another alleyways deep shadows were his destined point of arrival now. He could not go further, because doing so seemed only to increase the weight of the lump in his intestines.

So he hid in the shadows behind some nose of the wall. Carefully watching the street. Its senseless. Stop fighting it. I cant.

As a white haired girl went by, face full of horror, hands covered in greasy black he was surprised. Such a small girl would follow a man potentially dangerous to her. He had to admire her courage even if she might have more skill then met the eye. Those white hairs were fascinating indeed.

The piercing wail. The pain in those eyes. Maybe a little touch could have helped her. The touch of a friendly hand, a helping hand. He looked at his gloves. His own almost did not belong to him any more. They were prostheses, some other persons hands he had stolen.

The girl was almost gone from his view, when he managed to scramble out of the alleyway onto the brightly lid street, clothes covered in the same grime that had befouled the girls hands.

“I believe you are looking for me?”

His voice was loud and carrying. Steadfast and strong. Unlike his insides, where worms were slowly eating away. Tears were beginning to fall from his eyes. He wasn't so secure after all. Here was a thirty year old man crying on the streets. The fact that he looked younger did not make it easier on him at all.

Somewhere else a street worker was searching his assigned streets. If you wanted to call them streets anyways. The wail and the strange appearance of a girl had put him on DEFCON 1. If something made a girl stand this much on edge he would have to find out what it was.

Shortly after he found something lying tossed in a heap of rubbish.

“Cindy, what happened?”

Leaps and bounds. Ghost ran long and hard and fast, but every stride was almost gazelle-like. Long legs pumped and she sailed through the air too stricken to think about her ability. She had to stay solid to get to a phone.

“I believe you are looking for me?”

She actually yiped a bit at the strong male voice she heard. It made her change her step mid-stride and she whirled around, skidding a bit in her shoes across the concrete. She was out of breath and caught herself in a crouch ready to spring away again at the first sign of danger.

"Why would I be looking for you?" Was he the one that had caused all that blood in the alleyway? Why would he admit it? Her voice was breathless and shallow compared to his strength. She had to remember to breathe through the thick almost choking panic. The thunderheads rolled above, lighting flashing through the clouds but not descending to earth just yet. It was the thick and heavy air before a rain.

The momentary flash of light provided a look at the man's face that was not easily seen by the street lamps. Moisture on his cheeks. He was crying? "What's wrong?" Did he regret his actions? Her voice was a bit stronger now, though a little shaky she didn't sound like a wisp anymore. Good. But she still needed a phone.

The humming of the dialing tone continued forever in his ears. Even when a nice female voice greeted him, the tone seemed intent on continuing. The female voice spoke. He replied. She spoke and he replied yet again. It was not really him, that was talking there. It was not real, what he was seeing here. He fell on his knees and the wetness on the ground did not bother him. It was warm and friendly. And not real for sure. If it were real then Cindy was gone. Another little mark in some statistic. So he sat in a puddle of Blood as the heavens began to voice their anger. Anger. This was the emotion that would be sufficient to fil the numbness inside him. Just a the first bits of lightning begean to strike the ground, a nameless streetworker turned into an embodyment of the celestrial fury. Only one thing in mind. Kill. Kill the Killer.

Connection terminated.

Martin moved a few steps in the general direction of Ghost. Not too much, as he did not want to seem to threaten her. He looked at her fingers again, and then at his own. The black was real. Light that was flashing overhead got ready for the crescendo it seemed and with an all drowning boom for a pickup the first hair fine strands of plasma got on their way to connect heaven and earth and-if only for a heartbeat, an offbeat- succeeded.

The Ghostly light revealed the horror in the girls face. The horror he was feeling so simply expressed, yet that it was stuck somewhere between his head and his gut for him. And seemingly not ready to budge an inch at all. But the tears kept coming and he was glad to feel moisture on his skin. Moisture not sand.

Yes, what was wrong with him. It had been for quite a while now. But could this wrong be righted? Or more importantly: Should it be righted? His head began spinning, as his world kept turning itself. The lights blurred in his vision and soon he knelt on the ground, for he had nothing to lean on.

“I condemned a girl to death.”

His answer was barely a whisper.

Was he on drugs?

He bumbled some steps forward a bit zombie-like and Ghost wondered if he needed help. Was he in danger or was he the danger? Lightning flashed again and she was able to see something in his face that quickened her heart's pace beyond it's steady runner's flapping.

Thunder. Ghost squeaked and held onto her ears, though it was not her ears that hurt. The reverberation of sound made every air molecule as far as she could sense vibrate alive and vie for her attention. Like a million voices crying for her to look at them. Her fingers left grimy smudges on her temples when she finally brought her hands down again.

He sort of leaned and that lean turned into a partial collapse onto the concrete. Ghost made the distance between them nothing, a hand on his shoulder to make sure he didn't topple further and have his face meet the concrete. There was something eating him inside. He was an uneasy soul. Ghost didn't know what to say except to cringe at the next clap of thunder... Why wouldn't it rain already? The tension was making things unbearable.

“I condemned a girl to death.”

From all the sounds and vibrations and tension that one guilty whisper floated up and teased Ghost. It was almost incomprehensible and yet she understood the meaning without even fully understanding every word. The emotion there painted a picture more vivid than words ever could.

Ghost crouched to put her face on level with the man, who actually looked not too far from her own age. She had to swallow to get past the lump in her throat, but she tried to catch his eyes to make sure her words were reaching him and making sense. "Are you alright?" Another hushed whisper. She felt like talking might tip the balance of the evening and spill it into some unknown place. Ghost wanted to help. She didn't want to scare him away, she wanted to understand.

The touch of her hand was warm on his shoulder. Her face, having suddenly appeared amidst the blur, had conflicting emotions written all over it. Those things that still lay cramped in his lap. She was sad and angry, scared and brave, warm and cold. Yet she was not confused like him and showed it openly. Her presence was reassuring in so many ways. He just wanted to be a little longer right now. Here was someone, not afraid of him. Here was someone who cared for him even though he was both unknown and dangerous. And yet she still asked, whether he was alright.

The cannon shots from the sky continued without any sign of notice of the scenes below. Why would they not continue anyways? They even rose in intensity. The air filled with static charge, making every hair on his body stand on edge, while the faint smell of ozone entered his nose as there now was nearly continuous lighting from above.

This warmth of her hand.

Hand.... on..... Shoulder?

As his mind had slowly processed the implications of that warm feeling he finally got to realize something.

Her hand was on his shoulder. On his shoulder!

He pulled himself together completely and suddenly, his world sliding back together in a split second. The blur in his vision was still there, but it started to disappear, as he blinked it away, while a hand, that awful hand, not his hand, just a hand, had already gotten a tight grip on hers. Right now it didn't matter whether he harmed her physically; his focus was crystal clear. All that mattered was getting that hand away. Out. It was far too close to him for safety. She had almost touched his skin. And that would -with his bad luck- not ended well for both of them.

His eyes were Ice now, glittering with the last remnants of tears. He had a responsibility. For himself, for her. And that one was greater then petty things like the lives of drug addicted teenagers. He wanted to say I'm sorry. He wanted to spill all those awful worms out of him. The worms of 10 years. He wanted it so badly it almost hurt physically. And there he stood, her hand in a tight grip, ready to throw her. He was disgusted and yet this was the only thing he could do.

“Don't touch me!”

It was not a whisper, it was not a strong male voice. It was a voice full of fear that spoke from somewhere. Why was there wind blowing into his mouth now. That had not been him, right? Oh no. It had been him.

He hesitated physically because his mind was very far away. That much was clear. But as he sank slowly more into himself, he got more... angry. Even more than that, panicked. He grabbed her hand in his like it was molten lava on his shoulder and squeezed out a warning that was echoed in his words.

“Don't touch me!”

His shout echoed through the air that was thick and stagnant with almost rain. Ghost opened her mouth to inform the guy that he was hurting her, but another male voice sounded out over the clash of thunder.

"I thought you were just leaving? Or was one victim not enough for one night?"

The drawl and cadence were the same, even if from the words she was not able to identify the man from his words she was able to place him from his voice. Ghost twisted to glance at the man over her shoulder. He looked a lot more shaken than last time... what was going on?

"Hush. I won't hurt you. It's going to be okay." She whispered to the panicked guy. She didn't know what else to do since he didn't seem inclined to ever let go of her hand let alone stop crushing it. So, rather than fight with the terrorized and addled man in front of her, Ghost worked very carefully to turn just her hand incorporeal. A bit of Martin's hand might change too guaranteeing instant numbness, but as soon as her skin was free from contact everything would slip perfectly back into place.

"I don't know what your problem is, lady, but you're going away for a long time."

Ghost stood within in a flash of lightning, the movement so sudden that the man stepped back a pace and pulled a gun. "S-Stay put! I've already called for backup."[/i]

A gun. A gun. He actually pulled a gun on her. "Good."

Within the span of three more flashes of light she had stepped forward with a mid-level inside outside block and stepped forward again with her other hand taking the lead to crane wing his arm. She hadn't thought about it, she'd just done it. It happened just like her Danger Room instructor had said it would: a body's muscle memory. Her brain hadn't been involved one bit. It didn't take a lot of strength to keep a man in a position where his own strength was useless. Ghost was scared out of her wits now.

Police officer or not, no one should pull a gun... ever. She removed it from his weakened grasp and made sure the safety was put back on. If she knew how to take out the bullets she would have done that too. Instead she threw the gun away and it clattered onto the concrete somewhere between Martin and the two combatants.

"Good." She repeated to herself through the rolling grumbles of thunder that came after the lightning. This weather was making everyone mad. Why wouldn't it just rain? "We can wait here for them then. I needed to speak with them anyway about a body in the gutter." Her voice sounded distant and frail. So different from the woman holding her attacker's arm behind his back. Surely that body was not the panicked man's doing. Ghost tried not to even suspect that of him. Innocent until proven guilty otherwise she was no better than this assuming hunk of jerk.

He tested her grip and found it firm. He threw his whole weight back and much to his delight found that Ghost weighed even less than he expected. A real fight would ensue now.

He could feel time pass in slow seconds, drawn out by him intentionally, to regain control of himself yet a little more -Control was what he needed now to stop this pathetic show of weakness, emotions, distress-, when he heard the voice of a man in brooming sounds.

>>Iii thoooouught youuuu weerree juuust leeeavingggg? Ooorr waaas one victiiim not eeeenoughhh forrr oneee niiiight? <<

A different voice it was now, a male speaking into the night. More of a disco right now though, for the stroboscope lights were still flashing overhead and the basses booming. All with a certain laziness that came with prolonged time of their existence. But he now had almost constant light.
It was the content of those words, that made his already racing heart miss a beat. Yes, victim. But three people on one night? He was really having horrible luck. Well he was horrible anyways, so his luck just went with it it seemed.

He spun around instantly, well he tried. He still had not released his grip on the girls arm as she spoke her calming words. They were but a whisper in his ear, but a wisp of such reassurance, that he could easily pick it out from the background noise. A warm feeling was creeping about in his stomach, where previously the worms had been digging around. It was pure kindness he was experiencing here, and he was grateful for it. Now that he had somewhat compose himself again, his thoughts started working in their normal pathways again. It was as if he awakened from a dream, slowly pulling back into the waking world.

rm, well where was that arm anyways? And where was his hand? He could not feel it any longer, a strange sensation it is, when something that does not even belong to you rightfully suddenly disappears. It still is a loss that is noticeable, maybe even more so, because it is not your own that is lost. It was there again quickly, yet something had changed. The hand, that it had held formerly, was now gone and again in tight control by its actual owner.

A mutant owner this had to be, otherwise this would not have been possible. His grip was not strong, but that kind of numbness did not come out of nowhere. So why did she not do anything during the next events, but become palpable? There was no one here, who would notice her using her power, but him. Though he was unsure, what her powers were at all. Maybe they did not work for fighting. That had to be it. She had to know best herself. And apparently she did, as she easily disarmed him.

And so did he for himself. When the guy knocked her away from him, he wanted to step in.

But a lady in the gutter? Murder? This was getting a whole lot worse then he had expected. Murder was beyond him. He had killed people in ways other people might not see as such, yes. He had killed people in accidents with his powers, yes... -Well driven them insane at least- But he had never committed one murder in his entire lifetime. Another missed heartbeat this was.

She obviously knew her way around fighting much better then he did, so he let her be for a second or two more. This little time was enough for the man to kick Ghosts side, and the girl went on the ground in another instant.

Well crept would be a better word from his viewpoint. Times progression was almost nonexistent. This was his way to fight. It was a little bit like a chess game, where you had a certain time to think about your moves, and then make them, while your better opponent gets less time for him to think. Just evening out the chances it was. His think time was the time from the beginning of one move, to its completion. And there he went, before Ghosts body had even hit the ground his mind was made up.

“Look: I don't know, what you are talking about, but if you want to fight, choose someone your size.”

His taunt was ironic really, for his very scrawny self was no match for the officer, that was probably in top physical condition. While he completed his words, the last steps in front of the girl were taken. For his action he got a confused look first. This was just so wrong. So very wrong.

“Looks like you're resisting a police officer. Oh I will get you good, scum.”

His words dripped with the self confidence of an experienced officer. This one was absolutely sure, that he was right and even more so about his own superiority. He was so sure, that he would probably be blind for anything that did not fit into his view of their guilt anyways. One more reason to get this done with. This man was almost maddened by the thought of an arrest. But this time there would truly be resistance.

And so the game began with a classical opening. In the light of a flash, one could see the officer starting to charge at the opponent to try to get a good hold on him. At least that was, what the officer was trying. But somehow, where he had focused on gripping the felon, there was only thin air. The criminal had ducked away from him and had started an attack of his own. A gloved hand gotten hold on the outstretched arm, that had been so intent on clinging to anything in its wake, but it was from below and to the wrist. Making sure his grip was tight for a split second, Martin then pulled at it with all his physical strength, leaning forward in the process. This was a heavy guy and he needed ll his own strength, plus all of his weight, but finally he made it work.

And in a moment, that had not even lasted the time between two flashes, the officer was lying on the ground for the first time in the fight. It had been both of them standing there, then only one, that was crouched on the ground and the other lying. Sadly the officer got back on his feet all too soon. He was truly determined to get them.

The strong man threw his weight back and was getting out of her hold as soon as she was off balance. So much for peaceful restraining! She was going to have to start changing the parameters of that program to include bigger opponents. But first, re-learning how to breathe seemed in order. She'd taken a knee to the gut and then been deposited onto the concrete like so much meat.

Coughing, she grabbed out for someone, anyone's ankle. "Don't hurt him." She wheezed. It didn't matter which him it was, they shouldn't be throwing punches. Releasing said ankle, Ghost worked to regain her feet. Or at least her knees. That wasn't very nice of him to hit a lady... or draw a gun on one either. Suddenly reminded, Ghost grabbed up the darkened metal piece and tucked it into her pocket.

Turning back to the fight, Ghost yipped and scrambled out of the way as the officer came fumbling toward her heels first. Everything seemed rather disjointed, sounds coming too late or too far away. Movements were only flashes of the strobe, happening in sharp succession or far too slowly between lightning strikes. The only thing unifying this moment was a high and steady whine... what was that?

Ah, but New York officers were made of sterner stuff than that. He was on his feet and rounding on the man who had defended her again. Ghost cringed but flung herself at his feet anyway. "Don't. You don't have to do this." She was begging him, both of them actually. Of course he wasn't going to stand for a woman tripping him up, but this one was rather stubborn. And on top of that Ghost was trying to force the air from his lungs and she had to physically touch him for that. She would take any kick and it would only make her scrabble for a better hold on his legs. If he couldn't walk, he couldn't throw a proper punch.

Sirens. Ghost realized belatedly that the sound was a police siren. And they were not currently being the nicest to an officer of the law. She even had his pistol in her pocket! But... it would be okay. They would listen to reason, right? Oh, perhaps she shouldn't make him pass out, but only lightheaded and less inclined to fight. Ghost released his legs and the man's strange continual exhale stopped immediately. He coughed much as Ghost had moments before. He seemed quite winded, though not winded enough to keep himself from pushing Ghost away with his foot.

So the fight went on as the officer got back to his feet, just to charge him again probably, his eyes those of a beast fixed on its prey. He would be on his feet again, much too soon. I am not prey Martin thought. Just the flick of my hand, thats all it would take. Oh this was really getting ugly if he had he just thought that. Did he? He must have.

He heard a voice from below, that was accompanied, by a constraining feeling around his ankle. What the hack had happened there? Was that officer a mutant? He looked down on his feet. He blinked. And then he blinked again. It did take some time, before the image presented to him could sink in. That girl was really just touching his ankle? She was touching him?
There were several solutions for such a problem, that he had thought about. Several possible scenarios, that would all lead to both persons safety. But being presented with that desperate grip around his leg made every scenario seem like a bad dream.

If it just were one.

He did not scream. He did not whisper. The words from his mouth -spoken is a modest volume- were full of such icy calm, that it unleashed a Blizzard in Ghosts direction. They snapped right through thunder and sirens, cut through obstacles. Even their little problem seemed forgotten for a while. He just stared at her.

“Don't. Touch. Me.”

The hand was gone almost instantly. He would have to explain it to her sometime.
Behind him the officer had gotten to his feet again, and began, what was predicted.
But then the he stopped dead in his tracks, because the girl he had punched to the ground was gripping tightly to his feet, too. She was really a touchy one, wasn't she? Flinging herself at him just like that.

Her words of reason were not going unheard by him, but judging by the facial expression of that one, they would really have to incapacitate him, before anything bad happened. This being of instinctive rage was not controlled by a rational mind any more. But the longer the grip lasted, the less feral these eyes became. With every flash of light there entered tiredness into them it seemed. So she was doing something to him after all. And it worked well, for he was coughing as soon as her hand left him.

The area was now bathed in red and blue light, a flashing counterpart to the light above. Doors were banging and voices shouting, as people stormed out of cars on the street. The cough had finally subsided and the man was getting ready for his final attack, when a scream echoed over the street.

“Freeze!”

The police would rescue them, yes? They would help them and get rid of that awful officer here. They probably weren't. He was one of theirs and would probably get both of them in big trouble. More then they were already in, quite possibly. So while standing, arms raised behind his head, he mouthed to the girl:

“Can you make sure he doesn't talk?”

"Freeze"

Ghost held her hands up and stayed as she was on her knees. The plain clothes officer rolled his eyes and though he was still coughing and wheezing, he too raised his hands. Looking past their attacker, her comrade was mouthing something. Though she didn't catch all of it she knew the answer was no. Ghost shook her head as she turned to face the officers and flashing lights. Tonight was not going to be a pleasant one.

Her lips moved fast and low and it seemed foolish not to face him to communicate a in a similar manor. He would understand moments later when a kiss of breeze ruffled his hair bringing him this message. "Please cooperate fully. They cannot hold us." She believed in the system. They wouldn't charge them for something they had not done... if they did? Well, if her accomplice were innocent, she would at least deposit him back out on the streets.

"There is a gun in my pocket." Ghost announced calmly to an approaching officer. She wasn't calm, but she did think that an austere explanation of the situation was needed. "I believe it belongs to this man. Also, there is a body of a woman murdered in the alleyway." Shouts abounded as certain officers were directed to check her claim. She was roughly directed to lay flat on the concrete and after she slowly complied, twitchy hands felt around in her pocket. They recovered the gun but did not stop frisking her there. It was a little embarrassing, but not wholly unprofessional.

Her hands were cuffed behind her back and an officer kept his hand at the small of her back to keep her on the ground as he advised her of her rights as a citizen. It was of little relief when the rain did finally come. Large, fat droplets splashed against the concrete and dropped against Ghost's skin and back. The noise of the fresh rain made it hard to hear what the plain clothes officer was saying to the others. Maybe she should have taken Martin's advice... whatever it was meant that he was not cuffed and Ghost along with her accomplice were put in the back of two separate cruisers.

It felt a little silly to be in cuffs knowing that she could at any time slip out of them. Ghost sighed and waited for the ride to be over. The sooner they could get this business cleared, the sooner she could just go home.

The artificial lights of the precinct were harsh against her night eyes. It took a long cringe and some getting used to, none of which the officers wanted to wait for. Ghost was ushered a bit brusquely inside and handed over to be processed. First thing was first, they took her fingerprints. Oh crap. If those went into the computer system... no... she didn't want to be found. Not yet. At least they were put under her ID's name. That would buy her some time at least.

Next on the agenda was a handcuff swap. They loosened one cuff and directed her to insert her hand into the new pair that looked suspiciously like some she had warn at the internment camps. "Please no."
"I don't think you get how serious this all is."
A stern hand grabbed hers and forced it toward the cuff, but it went immaterial between the callused fingers. "No. I've cooperated fully. I-I will do as you ask! Just not that!" Panic colored her words. She really would do anything... well, almost anything. As long as they did not force her into the handcuffs that sensed the activation of an xgene and delivered a hefty electrical shock to disrupt the use of a mutation. Her heart thudded against her ribs. They couldn't make her!

His question was answered by the fact, that she asked him to cooperate and promptly making an example of herself. The way she did though, was quite odd, as he heard her words in a cold touch of a hand in his hair, that was soon gone like the wind, that carried it. So this was what she could do. Making herself a Martyr would be the better word to describe her action probably.

The police, your friendly neighborhood guardians, swooped in on them like some heroes from the sky, to rescue one of their own. The hands of the obese officer that was assigned to handling him were sweaty with anxiety and fumbling as if unsure where to go to next. They didn't deem him a threat, yes? Good. The clicking closing and a yank of cuffs on his wrists brought him out of his thoughts again. Officers were rushing all over the place as in a stirred hive, all walking brisk paces many directions. He saw one rummaging through the clothes of his earlier helper. His teeth clenched on their own volition and a certain grinding sound was heard by the officer.

“Hey there loverboy. Your eyes on me.”

Another sharp yank on the cuffs. That one was certainly manhandling him. And had he really just called him “Loverboy”? That one really was nuts. Loverboy.... tz. And why was he smiling in that weird way. Why did that smile make him shiver?

He was lead to a car separate from her, as he was only able to shoot glances at the girl in passing, prompting the smile of the officer to broaden. He just hoped she could see him. And he hoped her prediction was right, but he knew his hope to be unreal, more like a faint dream.

The drive to the police station was quite short actually -or was it long? It did not seem to last a second- And soon he was lead into a room, where he was to be processed. Fingerprinted for example, which presented a certain problem. It was a plain table with the big ball of person behind it and some papers on it. The grin had not yet vanished from the face of that... Person. He extended his hands in an inviting way toward an ink pad on the table. And there still were the four watching eyes him, he could hear the breathing of an officer besides the door. He had no way of resisting, but he had to try, lest they do... He raised his still gloved hands away from the table. The smile did not vanish.

“Now quit toying with us and get your hands on the table. Or do you want us to make you put them there?”

It was futile, he had known. Slowly and deliberately he removed the cover from his hands. They were white as snow and the blue of the blood vessels showed clearly underneath the thin skin. These hands never saw the sunlight. They were pale enough to be a ghosts. They were a ghosts really. “Don't like the sunlight, do you?” The words were met with an icy stare. Now there was only one chance left and he did not like to take it. A fleshy hand had already extended to get his fingers on that pad, but he withdrew his right away. The smiling one did nothing but nod, to send the person from the door into movement. He had to stop this.

“I am a mutant. You must not touch my skin. I do not wish to hurt you.”

Three sentences stopped them both dead in their tracks. Actually the first three words did the trick. They did not seem to take up the rest that well after only three words. One hand fell limply on the table and produced a thumping noise, while the officer behind him made a strangled sound. Then both exploded into action at once. The one near the door ran outside, already shouting for assistance halfway out, while the others smile had finally vanished into a snarl. A frightened snarl. A disgusted snarl. What had he done to them to warrant such reactions? He set himself down on a chair calmly waiting for what there was to come.


After some questioning they finally decided on putting him into a holding cell until they had contacted the embassy. He was still a foreigner and as such entitled to certain privileges, ok maybe not privileges, but specil treatment. They said it was for his own safety, but it seemed that his threat level had been raised quite naturally by the fact, that he had an x-gene, because his escort there consisted of four people -none of them obese or scrawny like himself, but apparently hard trained ones-, who had their hands on their guns and ready to draw, even though the heavy chains he had been given were really doing their part to keep his powers inactive. As inactive as they got really. It seemed that little imprisoning device around his wrist gave him a shock every time he used his mutation. A hefty shock. Trouble was, that his power was both of no use in combat and often acted on its own. He had to pay his price for that. Already he had made two shocking encounters with that little gem, which had made the officers laugh out loudly. And uneasily.

A few final steps and he was locked up with a collective sigh of relief. They had taken him deep into the bowels of the building, into some old cell with metal bars for doors and a stinking matrass for a resting place. He shrugged. Now the wait began, but in the far off he could hear clanging noises. Was someone else here?

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Apparently... they could make her.

Okay, so technically they couldn't. In her panic, Ghost had gone insubstantial and had been approached by men with tasers. She wasn't sure of what it would do to her exactly, but she didn't care to try. She also didn't care for the one swinging through her body with a billy club. Honestly that just wasn't necessary. "You are more likely to harm one of your own that way." She informed him, and he didn't seem to appreciate her effort. "I would stay... I would cooperate with you in this state, you know." But no matter what she said, it seemed that they were unable to cooperate with her in that state. They had no trust for someone who could on a whim flit away.

They couldn't have pinned her with anything, but rather than embarrass herself and the officers present Ghost finally relented. But she let them know it was her choice to cooperate first, which of course didn't make them happy. But that was okay. The cuffs made her very not happy. "I believe in the justice system we have in place and even if it takes some time, you will be unlocking these cuffs." It was the only reason she let them put them on her in the first place. She walked past cells of unfriendly faces and was glad when none of the occupied cells were opened for her. In fact, as if the shock cuffs weren't enough, they placed her well and far away from any other living thing.

The cell door clanged shut and the officer walked away. She looked dubiously at her mattress and then at the floor. Neither looked very clean or comfortable. Ghost sighed and received an all too familiar shock at her wrists. This was... a test. An exercise in her steadfastness to portray what every good little Mansion-dweller should do if faced with a similar situation. She nodded and... then nodded again. That didn't seem to be making the time go by any faster. How late was it? What would they do with her X-communicator and wallet that they confiscated? Would they log her mutation and name?

Another sigh, another shock, and Ghost was sitting on the floor with her back to the concrete wall. This was all very similar to the camp, though... now that she looked around her cell here was larger. Ghost sniffled as the heavy metal door sounded and another someone was brought down this lonely hall of cells. They walked past and she had to resist the urge to wave to the officer as he escorted an un-gloved stranger past. Was that they man she'd encountered on the street? She hadn't had a good look at him before and the harsh electricity wasn't doing anyone here a favor.

The officer returned empty handed of course and left the hall with a resounding bang of the heavy metal door. Apparently they were both too dangerous to be with the normal folk... or the normal folk were too dangerous to be trusted with them. Ghost shuddered and was thankful that she was alone, and yet not wholly alone. In the silence that followed she attempted to wriggle her thin hands out of her cuffs. She could almost do it, perhaps if she was willing to loose a lot of skin she could.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Ah, apparently she'd made too much noise. "Sorry... about all this. I'm honestly a little surprised they took so long with your questions and that they put you back here with me." She fought with the cuffs for a bit longer. Another sigh and she grit her teeth against the low level shock. It was her nature! "I suppose it wouldn't help my case if you disappeared suddenly would it..." Ghost flopped back against the cold, hard and cruel concrete floor. Bed be damned. Floor grit was far superior to bed bugs. "They'll realize sooner or later. We'll be okay..." She blinked and then couldn't help but laugh. "I don't even know your name."

Rustling sounds as Ghost rolled to her knees and gripped the bars straining to see if she could catch an angle that would let her see her fellow commiserator. "I'm Vega, uhm, also known as Ghost. I manipulate air."