While situating Martin to lean again the cell wall, he finally spoke. A sigh of relief whirled around the enclosure. Sure, the words were garbled, but she understood. He'd be okay. He tried to wave her off, but was determined to make sure there was no bleeding at the back of his head. The current of air ruffled his hair all around the back of his head until Martin reached up to find the damage himself. Ghost didn't miss his cringe either.

He asked her why she should be apologizing and Ghost frowned even though from her position sitting partially beside and partially behind Martin, he probably wouldn't see it. "You were no burden. I just typically remember to warn people to get their feet under them before just letting go. I've never dropped anyone flat on their back before, but I was worried since you were spreading out so far..." That had never happened either. Usually people were disoriented enough to stay still and on top of that, disembodied enough for them to try to keep themselves together. Martin had not.

~~~

Wiping a streak of drool hastily from his cheek, the containment officer sat up and promptly tried and failed to look busy in front of the transfer men. "Thought you fellas wouldn't show until mor... ning. Oh s**t." The papers he had been shuffling covered the blinking lights for only a fraction of a second before the heavily armed and well trained transfer team caught sight of them.

"They got out?" The lead transfer officer, who's badge read Ted, started flushing red with anger at the man they'd caught sleeping. Ted ordered a team to circle around back and check all exits while he and one other went to verify that the subjects in question, had indeed escaped.

~~~

Ghost heard footsteps echoing down the hall, but paid them no mind. There was no way they would make it all the way back through another set of doors and into their cell block. It was late... or early. No doubt someone in a more respectable situation had made bail and was being released. So of course she jumped when the door to their section flew open hard enough to slam the back wall.

Her grip on Martin's shoulder only increased. When an angry voice echoed through the block with a short but efficient string of curse words. A walkie-talkie sounded. "Check in, they're not here." Well, they were in the last cell, huddled against the wall. Unless they walked all the way down to the end, there was no way to see them. Ghost moved up to the front of the cell and stuck her arm out.

"We're still here."

The man was clearly startled and Ghost heard the distinctive sound of a gun being drawn before another sting of explicatives, this one more colorful than the last echoed around the concrete enclosure. The footsteps approached and two men with drawn tasers came to the cell door. They looked so much like the guards at the internment camp that Ghost actually regretted letting them know that they were there. One reported by walkie-talkie that both 'perps' were present and accounted for.

"How'd you get out of your restraints?" Ghost didn't like his barking tone, but she showed him her wrists anyway. The bruising and scrapes should have been enough for him to know how. "Looks like we'll need a collar for this one." One of the men started assembling what looked like a dog catcher's pole, complete with opposable clamp at the end.

"Wouldn't a better question be 'how did we both end up in the same cell?'" It wasn't Ghost's intention to provoke them, but rather to make them see that they could have left but on their honor had stayed and therefore were no threat.

The men shared a long look between them that Ghost could not interpret before one reached for the cell door. "Ted, both their cuffs are off. Shouldn't we wait to bag and tag until the rest of 'em show up?"

He hesitated with the door. "Why didn't you run when you had the chance?"

"I'm waiting for them to let us go... and Mister Martin might need medical attention." Simple as that.

It was thumbing, drums beating their way. It were catching sounds, sounds that spoke of lands far away, where nature still held a primal beauty, of the rising of a red sun, a ball of fire over grassland plains. Wonderful sounds filled his ears making him want to dance, to move his limbs in the rhythm of the music. He wanted to become the music flowing through his veins. Loose himself.

Bang. Cursing.

The drums quickly changed their tune to a much more brutal variety. Sledgehammers beating on the inside of his skull, their falling was the source of some small bit of discomfort for him right now. His eyes had remained opened, yet he had traveled to some sort of dreamland and was now woken by a string of words that were quite....deliberate. The emotion contained was a little too close to the cool professional rage to make him feel easy. What little muscle he had that had been relaxed during his last episode of.. whatever, was now tensing into tight knots. Even his fists clenched at the feeling of nails digging deep into his shoulder. And the low sound of grinding teeth was to be heard faintly in the room. The hurt of strained muscles distracted from the hurt in his skull. A fair trade off.

Who had come for them here? A question easy to answer. Police. Nobody else was allowed to enter these rooms. Why they had come was the far more pressing question. There were so many possibilities that he did not want to waste any of the sparse place in his head that was not occupied with blanketing the noise the impact had left there on speculations. Rather then that he raised his Arm and tried to grab for Vega to hold her back, just to stop at the last second before contact was made, leaving only the almost forgotten feeling of air slipping through his fingers. That had been another instance much too close for comfort, so he could just stay still as she gave away their position to the policemen in the hallway. So much for staying undetected. So much for staying out of trouble. It was irritating a bit, like ants crawling across your leg, like a mosquito buzzing near your ear. It was a situation that would get dangerous soon, thanks to her. But could even if she had done so deliberately, her trust in the system seemed so great that she would risk it. She would not even view it as bad in all possibility. A dangerous game she was playing. He disapproved.

He was even more disapproving of the further abuse of language sounding through the hallway from the officers position and a single eyebrow rose as got up to his feet. If he would have to meet this pair of cursing examples of the states finest employees then he would offer them at least the courtesy of standing up to them. When they finally came into sight he took his time -at first he expected a shock and only tried to use his power a little, before realizing that the conditioning had already begun to settle in and went all out. There instruments of torture had been well designed after all. He was even relieved that there was no shocking- at least in his time, to examine them.. To take everything in: Their movements, their equipment, how they acted as a pair. He was meticulous with the details. Everything might be useful, all parts that he missed might endanger both of them. From all that he saw he had but to draw a single conclusion, which was not good at all. They seemed to be both well trained and well equipped to deal with mutants. One kept a taser pointed at Vega, while interrogating her, the other started to assemble some pole like instrument in the back without ever taking his eyes of him, though he was still standing in the darkest part of the cell, features mostly obscured by the shadows.

Finally he stepped forward into the light that entered from the corridor to reveal a relaxed expression and scared eyes. He even went so far as to control most bits of his body language, shoulders narrowed, head sunken, to imitate a scared boy. If they would do but a single misstep in the careful dance that was about to begin there would be violence. And he would deal with them in every way if he had to. He had to protect Vega. Or at least try to. She had taken off the cuffs. Now it was his turn at helping.

“I'm mostly OK, but my head hurts.” His voice was shaking a little, slow and in every bit that of a scared boy. The Policemen's eyes wandered over his figure in an assessing glance and then fell back on Vega. Apparently his little ruse had worked out so far, or had he been discovered and the police played along? There was no time for doubts. He was Martin Stein. A scared barely grown up boy in a prison cell. And he was dangerously close to both unsuspecting officers. His hands were exposed. “And of course they will let us go. Thats what they came here for, right?” He looked at the two men with scared eyes.

“And of course they will let us go. Thats what they came here for, right?”

Well.... Ghost turned expectantly slowly to the man had a hold of the pole. He didn't seem to have that in mind. He was nodding to the man by the door. The hall door clanged open and more footsteps approached. This small space was starting to get very full.

The grate opened and the dog catcher's pole went for the most dangerous of the pair, Ghost. Martin's harmless trick seemed to be working. Several tasers were trained on the girl while yet another pole was being assembled for Martin. The metal clamped around her neck and instinctively her fingers went there to pull at the merciless strangler. The pole jerked out out of confinement and out into the hall between the bodies of the men sent to transfer them. Another man fished out a collar similar to the cuff they had both just escaped. There was no way her head was squeezing through that one.

"Please..." She was giving them one last chance. Not that she would harm them. Not that she intended to fight back. She just wanted to know if they were human after all.

... apparently not. The collar clanked shut around... nothing. Itchy trigger fingers went off mere moments too late sending the biting wires from the electric guns at friendly bodies. Ghost slipped backward between the bars again and in front of Martin. Not that she would obstruct his view or theirs. At least two men were down on the ground writhing. Another two had glancing blows and a twitchy arm or leg. The final two men who had been the first two to enter the hall remained unscathed. "We will remain here until they are finished holding us."

Should they attempt to shoot Mister Martin with their taser guns, she would bat the offending metallic nodes out of the air before they hit their mark. She would only react, never attack. Any move she made would be defensive. How far was sun rise? How many more horrors would this night bring? She wanted to shout at them or ask them why... but somehow silence seemed prudent. Was she getting them into more trouble by trying to prove her point? What reason would they have to move them unless they had already convinced them of the crime in their hearts.

He had often been frozen before. Frozen in time. Frozen by fear. He had even been stuck in a dark corner trying to evade detection once or twice. He had been stuck so many times, yet this one was different. There were the officers and their guns on the one side of the bars. He was on the other with someone like himself. Mutant. She was part of what he was and so she could not be abandoned. A strange feeling this was, maybe a memory of older times when he had still cared so much for the people around him, maybe just a gentleman's demeanor, yet he felt the need to protect her somehow. But he was also painfully aware of his own physical limitations and of the fact that his gloves had been taken – how foolish of those officers not to wrap him into plastic at first sound of touch mutation, this little foolishness might just cost them big now. The life of an officer, The mind of an officer- so anything that would make him touch their skin was a game of Russian roulette with their lives. He did not like taking lives. He did not like gambling at all, no matter the stake. There was no reason behind it. No clear thought, so he stood there, frozen behind the mask of a teenager full of fear, while they caught her with the pole-device.

It seemed like an instrument made for handling dangerous animals. So thats what they were to them. Another piece of evidence for their malicious intents, their efficient way of handling mutants. Some part of him admired that. For another it was a reason, a little droplet of those that there already were and those there would be to come. One of many small drops.

He winced at the sight of the collar and the tasers dark plastic shells that seemed to absorb all light present. They looked maliciously efficient in all their industrial elegance and splendour. If she would just turn to mist now.... Why didn't she save herself? Drop. Why did she not do it? Drop. What do I know about her power really? Drop. Is it me? Drop, It took her time to turn me, so for all I know she doesn't have the time to do it right now. Drop. They had actually tried to contain him. Drop. To condition him with this bracelet of shocks. Drop. His thoughts were springing back and forth, calling out questions and answers to questions he had not asked for really, as well as viable information. At the same time his body at the cell door was but an empty shell, the act continuing on its own, yet not without purpose.

Little drops that made a river.

A slow movement started to happen. Away from the door at first, as was to be expected from a scared boy, even cowering as was befitting his situation, but as soon as the shadows covered him a bit, he went closer and closer, while the dreadful collar was slowly closing in on Vegas neck, was about to be closed. He could not dare a sprint from where he was, neither could he dare to fight so many men. Shi*! This was all a mess.

And then, thankfully, when the collar was about to snap shut, she simply evaporated right out of it. It was a beautiful thing to behold. One moment she was there, so were all the fears in him, the next all were gone, wiped away by a soft breeze. Something remained still. All those drops in him wanted to get out. He was in position and the opportunity was perfect, when out of confusion most of the targets shot each other with their taser guns. Perfect.

Before Ghosts voice sounded through the room, before anyone noticed what happened he was out in the hallway. The look of the scared kid had been cast aside for something else. Determination. Stone hard determination. His assessment had paid off. One of the guards still standing had forsaken his taser for a pole, and was in the way of the other if he ever got to shoot at him. He slipped behind the poleman. One quick grip and he had swiped the dark plastic casing right from its holder. Another quick grip and his target lay on the ground, still twitching from electric discharges. The other dropped the pole and spun caught off guard just for the fraction of a second, hand grappling for the taser that was just not there any more. Mechanic grips that were employed against the guard. Efficient grips. Hand on arm. Arm forced behind the body and.... There is surprisingly little strength needed to dislocate a joint if one uses the proper leverage and direction. Just a moment and the other had gained a dislocated shoulder, yet he continued his move towards a battle ready stance, towards getting reflexes to set in that would surely knock Martin out in as little time as it had taken the taser to incapacitate the other guard. Then I have no choice. An arm broke with a loud crack. Martin set his leg down of the ground, breathing heavily.

He smiled at Vega. “I guess we will have company.”

More bodies hit the floor than Ghost expected. She thought she was standing in front of Martin, but... no he was outside of the cell hurting someone. Even incorporeal, it was plain to see the pain on her face when the man's arm snapped. "Martin..." Disappointment, regret, and a complete lack for all previous formality.

"I guess we will have company."

"Hopefully Paramedics."

She shook her head and breezed back through the bars. She breezed past Martin and seeped past the door. Past the regular inmates and out to the clerk's desk. Perhaps... she was wrong to let Martin out, to let herself out. This was a mess. She should not have panicked and refused the collar. She just... didn't want to end up alone and helpless. Again.

"Excuse me, sir." When he looked up he jumped. Obviously he wasn't expecting her, least of all a shadow of her previous self. "I think you should call an ambulance. There has been an accident." Though accident didn't really cover it... Ghost sighed again. "I am sorry. I'll go wait in the cell."

She couldn't frown hard enough as she slipped back through impossibly small spaces and back into her original cell where the door was still locked. Ghost even considered slipping her cuffs back on. But that would be like lying, wouldn't it?

"I asked them to call some paramedics for these people. If you want to try to leave... I won't stop you." She was tired. Too long awake and too much going on. After so much adrenaline, you run on numb. She'd thought it was going to be alright. Why did those men have to show up? Who makes transfers in the middle of the night? Of course... it could be morning by now. She couldn't tell the difference while incorporeal and wasn't about to change back.

Sirens sounded and back up came stomping through the halls. Someone would be there to see what the damage was.

He was still trying to calm down, but kept his eyes on the people on the ground, watching for any sign of live or movement. Anything that could prove to be dangerous for them. And being what he was they would not be able to deceive him for long. He still started to gather up their weapons though, even searching body after body for hidden knives or sticks. Anything that he found was thrown into some other locked cell, separating its owner from it as permanently as he could at the moment. Then it hit. An attack from an unsuspected person. It was a simple word. -Martin- his very name. But it held a sadness that made him drop the piece of metal that he was about to throw away. Dropped the sharp knife on the ground where it hit the concrete with a scraping noise. His eyes had closed, or rather, he had wanted to close his eyes and failed at doing so, now watching the twitching limb of an officer trying to grab hold of something beyond his understanding. The fingers were making gestures that seemed impossible for normal hands, for normal movement, going rigid every few seconds and then rippling into the next stance in an intricate dance of suffering. He had not seen such a thing in his entire existence. And for the second time tonight. And for the second time in quite a while he was... scared.

Thats why I always refrained from fighting.

He wanted to tell Vega, that he was sorry, but his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara in mid-summer. Not a single word leaf this lips, before she ghosted off to get help for damaged ones and he remained behind with his own thoughts standing in the middle of the hallway.


When she entered back into the tract of the building Martin was nowhere to be seen, there was no trace of him another sound of heavy breathing among the groans of the wounded from one of the shadows, where he skillfully concealed himself. He did not answer her words, maybe even did not hear them, not even stirred as white clad medics entered to carry away the wounded. Note: They first carried them off, did not even perform the first checks on site. It was a very revealing action. They were dangerous. He let his actions speak for themselves, for if he had wanted to leave he would have already. So he waited in the darkness of the cell for a new day to bring answers to many questions.


A blink later, many days, he did not care and only remembered the fact that Vega had been allowed to leave earlier, he found himself face to face with a pale blond man in his mid 30s that addressed him in perfect German, though with slight American accent. “Mr Stein.” “Yes.” Simple answer. Not a question of what he wanted. Statements only. “I am here o the behalf on the German embassy.”...
He was walking on the streets again the very same day, though he had been told by an officer in no uncertain terms that they would find evidence of his crimes and imprison him if they every got the chance prompting the diplomat to advise for returning home as soon as possible. He had a black book and a pen in his hand, was writing things down. And was walking through the place he had elected to be his home for now. All was well.

((The sequal thread can be found here: Researching Reforming Reinventing. ))