((ooc: Romania plot folks who didn't sign up for this thread: feel free to join in anyway, if you want.

There is no posting order on this one.))

Event, place, date and time. Slate was sitting on the steps outside of his hotel when the text came in. His blackberry gave a satisfying buzz between his hands. With a few (somewhat awkward) button presses and screen taps, Slate found his way out of Twitter and the blog he had been following recently, and into his phone’s inbox.

Time (and a glance at his watch to confirm things): quite soon.
Date: December 1st. Today.
Place: the Romanian parliament building.
Event? A friendly bombing by the Underground.

...Slate tapped the screen, as if zooming the text size would somehow bring new meaning to the message. Suffice it to say: the message remained the same. The brown-haired teenager blinked. Well. This was most inconvenient.

Not to say he was opposed to the bombing. The current parliamentary members did not seem inclined to change their views, even for generous incentives—at this point, as the Underground’s public attacks escalated, they’d somewhat backed themselves into a corner. If they stood by their registration law, things would get worse: if they backed down, they’d be showing their jugulars to some strongly displeased enemies. Their political careers—if not their lives—were at stake.

No, clearing the table with a sweeping act of terrorism wasn’t a terribly bad idea. It was the timing that was inconvenient.

Slate was dressed in a plain pair of black slacks and a warm gray coat. His slate gray scarf started its cozy warping somewhere below his lapels, and ended somewhere just below the tip of his nose. He did not own a hat. He was beginning to regret that, as he’d sat on the stairs, waiting for his companions to arrive. Tarin Brooks and Ms. Sara Nobes: they’d had business together, today. They were going to give themselves an impromptu tour of this country’s old concentration camps, and see if Tarin’s spirits could confirm the rumors that one of the places had been retrofitted for more recent use. Ms. Nobes was going to act as their bodyguard. Not that the Kabal’s Leader and its esteemed Spirit Medium hadn’t proven themselves quite capable of self-defense in Colombia...

Slate’s nose disappeared into the folds of his scarf. Really, this was most inconvenient, indeed. They would simply have to re-schedule, though. Large-scale anarchistic actions, unlike mutant inmates, wait for no man. Slate tapped his screen (and pressed buttons) until his blackberry arrived on its contacts screen.

Then he began to compose.

---

Slate could feel the ground shudder, even through the frame of the moving car. He glanced to his watch first: ah. It was about that time, yes. He glanced to the sky, next.

A gray cloud was rising up in front of them. Another explosion followed. The cloud continued its spread. Slate craned his neck to see it better: he’d never witnessed a terrorist bombing, before.

When they arrived, it was to a scene of simple shock. People were frozen across the street, in the midst of their lives: some coughed, some screamed, some simply stared. The police, still mostly busy with the day’s parade and festivities, had not yet arrived. No one had been polite enough to forewarn them.

The Kabal and X-Men were not so unprepared.

Slate stepped out of the car, breathing the dust-choked air through the filter of his scarf. The visibility was low: a fractured building seemed to hang in a cloud of gray-white. Its roof had collapsed inwards, leaving the rough teeth of high walls pointing towards the sky. He could not tell where, exactly, the other explosion had gone off.

“Well,” the thin teenager said simply. “That could have been worse.”

Some of the screaming seemed to be coming from inside, after all. Survivors. Slate could use those.

Now if the other rescuers would be so kind as to bring them over, Slate would see about improving the parliament’s opinions of mutants. One psychic healing at a time.

Alexandra Kettler was quite pleased with the fact that traffic wasn’t jammed today. With most of the people celebrating the National Day, Alexandra suspected that most of the cars were squeezed in some parking lots next to the Arc of Triumph. She had left the hotel about fifteen minutes ago, heading to the Underground’s Headquarters. With Pacifica’s violent thoughts ‘healed’ by the blue-eyed Kabal leader, it was easier to be heard by the other high-ranking Underground members which Slate didn’t have a chance to meet.

The light turned red. Frowning slightly, she stopped the car, turning up the volume on the radio and relaxed in the seat, glancing from time to time at the traffic light. It was then when one of her phones buzzed. Wondering who might be, she pulled out the phone from her pocket. The screen read ‘You have 1 new text message.’ before Alexandra pushed a button which brought the actual text message. And froze as she finished reading it. A string of some rather rude things came out of her mouth as she let the phone drop on her lap.

She knew that the Resistance was planning something but she didn’t expect that they would bomb the Senate. Letting the air to be expelled out of her lungs rapidly, she pulled out her Kabal phone out of the pocket, ready to call Slate and let him know about this situation when she received the text message from Slate. The thought of how exactly did Slate know about it when she had sent a non-Kabal member to spy on the Underground briefly crossed her mind. But that was the least of her worries.

A honk quickly interrupted any thoughts. She glanced at the traffic light and noticed that the color had changed to green. Frowning once again, she let the Kabal phone drop from her hand as well and placed her hands on the wheel. What followed was a quite abrupt, certainly illegal turn which brought many more honks and probably swearing words from the drivers behind her. She ignored them and pressed the gas. The speedometer indicated a speed that certainly went way past the legal limit. Half focused on watching the road, she picked up one of the phones and dialed Sam’s number. As soon as he answered, she started to speak. “Senate, now, the Resistance is planning to bomb it.” And then she hung up and dialed 112.

”Hello, this is the emergency number, how may I help you?”

A rather cheerful voice for the emergency number, Alexandra noted while taking another abrupt turn. “Someone’s planning to bomb the Senate. Evacuate. Now.” The answer left her amazed on just how dumb the authorities really were.

”Can you please give me your name miss?”

God. “I don’t have time for names. Just make a damn phone call and evacuate the building now.” Alexandra hung up again, already picturing the cheerful miss at the other end of the phone shrugging and continuing to paint her nails. Why did she always have to deal with idiots, again?

~*~

The drive to the Senate took less than ten minutes but as soon as she approached it, she knew that she was too late. The grey cloud that rose in the air above the place where once stood the impressive Palace of the Parliament was proof of that. She pulled her car as close as she could, starring at the scene displeased. Certainly late.

Alexandra got out of the car, pulling the scarf up to cover her nose as the debris made it difficult to breathe. Not far from her location, she saw Slate. Also Sara. She remembered saving her tail. The man who was with them she didn’t remember seeing him before. With small steps, she approached the trio.

“Well, that could have been worse."

Apparently, Slate was the epitome of optimistic. She stopped next to them, looking at the former Senate. “Yeah, they could have dropped the Fat Man on top of the Senate.” She commented in a grim voice.

Tarin Brooks was running just a little bit late for his meeting with Slate and Werecat, it was just so hard to get all the clothing on that was required to simply go outside in this hell hole of a country. There were multiple layers, and every layer had its own unique set of buttons, zippers, sleeves, and clips that had to be done up before the next layer could go on. There were three layers, plus the long underwear he'd taken to wearing underneath everything else, so four total. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.

Today's mission was an important one, and Tarin knew it. Into the cab he went, glad that he was used to the dragonspeak from Colombia. It made things so much easier. The driver understood quickly that Tarin meant business when he said to hurry, especially after the medium pressed a small bundle of bills into his hand. The taxi sped off and Tarin said a quick prayer to all the dieties he could think of. They'd get there fast, whether or not they'd be alive was another thing entirely. He went over that thought again and shook his head slightly, he was speaking collectively and Lee was nowhere to be found. Well...she was somewhere, off on some mission that Slate had cooked up. Tarin didn't like the way some of these Romanian politicians looked at his wife. It was probably because her dark hair and light eyes looked exotic against all the blonds. It was still unsettling though. Tarin sighed a bit, he didn't want Lee here either, they were going to be inspecting old concentration camps. While it was probably going to be a nice history lesson, and damn useful to the Kabal's cause, Tairn still worried about the effect seeing an actual camp would have on his wife.

They were driving down one of the main streets towards the appointed metting spot that Slate had determined, when suddenly the ground rocked beneath the taxi and the driver skidded to a practical stop in the middle of the street. Tarin smashed himself up against the window only to see a column of smoke starting to rise from what he recognized as the Senate building. Holy. Shit. He was about to call Lee when his phone rang in his hand. It was a text message, from Slate.

Tarin's eyes flew over the message, and then he was handing more money to the driver as he gave directions. The man realized where they were going and started to protest, but Tarin tossed the rest of his cash into the front seat and slumped back against the seat. Slate could deal with the extra expense if he expected Tarin to show up in a place that had just been bombed. Did Slate have any idea what that was going to be like.

The taxi started moving again and Tarin leaned his head back against the back seat of the taxi and closed his eyes, concentrating. It was going to take a lot. Even the spirits that were going to move on would probably be hanging around the senate building. High concentration, and a possibility of emotionally driven strength. Tarin took a deep breath and let it out, One, in and out two....on he went, even when the second blast went off, until the Taxi stopped and the driver told him in no uncertain terms to get out. Tarin obliged, much more centered and calm than when he'd gotten in the taxi. It was still fricken cold though.


There were people milling everywhere, but there was an erie silence in the area, and nobody was really moving. Tarin looked for Slate, and found him without much difficulty. Maybe it was a good sign. Tarin almost laughed and made his way to the boss.

"I had to give the cabbie a retarded amount of money to get him to bring me here right now." he said by way of greeting, the famliar feeling of spirits in the area already starting to show, "Where to boss?" There was a woman there, someone Tarin didn't know beyond sight, but from the looks of things...this was where they were going to gather, this was where the game really started.

"Nice text, by the way. I'm assuming we didn't have any people in there."

He approached his nice big hotel room with a smile on his face, the bed waited for him and he was looking forward to passing out as soon as the door slammed shut. As soon as his hand reached the handle he sighed, his phone was ringing again. It seemed like it hasn’t stopped ringing since he had arrived in Romania, he wasn’t complaining because he was needed however it would have been nice to have a few extra hours to waste sleeping. Pulling the phone from his pocket and eyeing the caller I.D. he smiled and picked it up hoping Alex had some good news. ”Hey Beauty…” she seemed panicked, he didn’t like that.

“Senate, now, the Resistance is planning to bomb it.”

he stood motionless for a moment and frowned, ”You gotta be shitting me!” Sam said as he stared at the door. For a moment then realized that she hung up. Turning around and cussing Sam ran to the elevator as he contacted all X’s who were in the vicinity and weren’t on a mission. Why the hell would Pacifica do this? The country is going to come at mutant’s full force now, if not execute them as soon as they captured them.

Sighing and shaking his head Sam hailed a cab and as on the way, even though he could have got there in half the time secrecy was still the essences of his work here. If he was outed as a mutant, that meant anyone he was associated with could have been picked up as well and that was counter productive to the mission.

Fifteen minutes of rocking back and forth and he was out the door without paying. He was less then three blocks from the senate building and the fact that smoke was in the air worried him. Were there people trapped? Was everyone dead? He didn’t know or cared he had to do something to help them, if there was anyone that he could help.

Running through the crowd of people heading the opposite direction he was coming from Sam managed to wriggle his way through to see the building in rubble, flames scattered here and there as screams could be heard. Thinking about what he should do Sam started to head towards the building, determined to kill the roaring fires.

Durring Sara's short stay here in Romania, she'd managed to keep herself extra busy, However that didn't keep her from noticing several differences from Romania to the US. Things that made her home sick. Don't get Sara wrong. She learned that she loved traveling back when she was on her first mission to Egypt. Despite the fact that she hated flying, traveling was a freedom that Sara hadn't even dreamed about doing when she was little.

The problem was that, here in Romania, they were doing the whole arrest all Mutants thing, and the streets lacked the crowds new york had, that Sara normally hid in. Every move she made, had to be planned a head and even with the extra planning, Sara had to rely on a lot of luck. For a person who spent most of her life making split second decisions, planning a head so much was a pain in the tail side and if she hadn't of figured out a taxi driver who would tolerate her mutation, she would have probably gone crazy with cabin fever in her hotel room. (extra cash was always a good way of making new friends and loyal cabbys.)

Currently, Sara had more layers of clothing on, than she was used to.There was a heavy long coat with one of those thick hoods with fake fur lining around the hem. Most people needed the extra warmth. Sara hoped the look helped with providing her with extra camouflage. Beneath that, she'd planned for trouble. She was meeting with Slate after all. The young man who failed his ethics class and accidentally tried to kill her. A sleek bullet proof vest was a must over the long sleeve, black turtle neck with the neck part pulled up as high as it would go under her chin. Her pants were loose enough that they hid the shape of her legs, and fell over the tops of her feet. This wasn't the best way of hiding for a mutant in this world. The best way would be to look human, but Sara played the cards that she had been dealt. So the fact that Sara couldn't hide in plane sight, here in Romania, nearly as well as she could in the US, meant that Sara had to plan her timing a head of time too. She intended on arriving exactly at the time that Slate had told her.

The funny thing is, despite all of Sara's efforts to be a good girl and plan a head of time, there are always the things that one cannot plan for. Like a Romanian senate bombing. Yes Bombing was a bad thing. Sara felt the sudden sound waves vibrate though her body, and against her ear drums that might as well of been stabbed by the way they felt. Normal people at this distance, only felt a rumble. Sara's hearing was much more sensitive and even though she felt like her entire body vibrated with the sound, instinct had her clapping her palms over her ears anyways. The vibration of her cell phone didn't surprise Sara in the least. There was a change of carefully laid out plans. A change that was dangerous, and nasty, and somehow, just because it was a change, Sara lost the stiff, wound up energy, posture that was in her shoulders.

Sara's Cabby stopped the car and he glanced back in the rear view mirror at Sara. There was no remorse in his eyes for her obvious pain with her ears. He'd been driving her around putting her in places where she could get to her own missions for the past days. He knew he was getting money, and that's all he wanted. Sensing his stare through the mirror, Sara nodded, silently. The non verbal communication was complete.

The cab pulled away from the curb leaving several other cars and stunned drivers behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sara first arrived, the smoke and debris in the air messed with her senses. From inside the cab there had been a nice glass window to look through the dirty air with. The cab driver had driven her up front, as close as he could get her to the building. She climbed out, with the back of her wrist pressed against her mouth and nose in an attempt to filter some of the air. She'd hardly been on her feet, when the cab jerked back into motion, and disappeared through the smoke. The driver was probably hoping all the stuff in the air hid his license plate.

Through eyes that stung, Sara found Slate. Tarin and Circe as well as the distinct back of Sam's head.

“Well, That could have been worse.”

Thank you for the understatement of the week Mr. Failed his ethics class but can take over a large powerful company in a month. Sara would have snorted but she was too busy keeping herself from sneezing.

“Yeah, they could have dropped the Fat Man on top of the Senate.”

"Right." Sara's eyes rolled. She said a silent hope for the answer to Tarin's question to be no. Strangers in trouble she could deal with much better than those that she knew personally. Her eyes flicked from the roll the the crowd and Sam's approach caught her attention. Here they were standing around, and she knew Sam was about to just dive in and do things. She'd been through the drill before.

OK. so Game plan time

"It looks like Sam is going to put out the flames. He might be able to stabilize parts that are left of the structure too. Somebody other than me needs to take charge and tell people what to do. With current events, and as usual, people are going to take orders better from someone who at least looks normal."

The last few words were said as Sara was stepping backwards. closer to the mess to join Sam. Slate hired her for being a body guard for a different mission. thanks to unseen circumstances, those plans had shifted slightly.

"Achoo!!!" Shin ran a tissue under his nose. Chilly! But he didn't even have a cold. Someone must've been talking about him.

Sure enough, Iceman from Super Robot Wars began to play. The ring tone Shin had set for Sam. Shin pulled his cellphone from his pocket, and flicked it open. Freaky... His eyes skimmed the text message as he walked his way over to the waste bin in his hotel room. The balled-up tissue dropped into the can.

Trouble at the old well, Timmy... Shin's lips turned down in a frown. He had to get to the parliament building as fast as possible.

He pulled a heavy brown coat over his shoulders as he slipped out the hotel room, and turned to lock up. How would he manage this? Parliament was... Shin looked towards the ceiling. Um. "Where was parliament again?" Where was parliament, he didn't even!! Like Monkey D. Luffy with a cardinal direction, Shin turned, pointed, and headed west. Straight down the hall, down the elevator, and up to the front desk of the hotel.

"I need a tourist guide, please. Or a map!!"

The person behind the desk stared at him. Shin leaned forwards, urging her with his eyes. Please... please... pretty please with a piece of pi on top!!

"I... uh... here..." The woman held one out with a weak smile. Shin snapped it up from her like a starving man takes a sandwich. Yoink! He buried his nose in the grid of the map studiously. Very griddy............ After a few minutes of staring, looking up, glancing over his shoulder, pointing, and flurrious nodding, Shin had a mental snapshot of the map. He turned towards the hotel's exit, and rushed off to hail a cab.

"Taxi!!"

Tires squealed. A door swung open. "Where to?"

"The palace of parliament!!" Shin gave a big grin! The door slammed shut. The taxi shot off. Shin fell to his hands and knees. "Oh, noooooo~!!!" A minute later, he tried again. "Taxi!!"

This time, he was less specific, more roundabout. The general area a few blocks from the palace of parliament would do.

The taxi cab driver agreed to this. Twenty minutes later, there were there. Shin held out the cash for the driver. Wheels spun. The taxi vanished down the street. Shin turned towards the plume of smoke in the distance, and rested a hand on his hip.

Now came the run... oh, the hotblooded running. He hadn't gotten a run like this since the last time he was at the mansion. Five minutes later, Shin doubled over in front of Sam. He huffed. He puffed.

"I'm here, Sam. What did I... fire." There was fire. Shouldn't they put that--- realization dawned in Shin's eyes. He snapped up, rolling his sleeves with a dumb grin. "Oh, I gotcha. We gotta put this out now~ On your command."

Sleep. It was something that was desperately needed. After long nights going on missions he needed some sleep to so that he could stay alert for the next nights mission. Apparently someone else had other plans. Streak's phone rang. Groggily the silvermancer answered it. It was Sam. There wasn't much to the conversation but what was said was very important. "They're doing what?!" This was not good. Streak was wide awake at this point. Nothing would have helped him go back to sleep until he'd done something about the bad news he'd just been dealt.

The situation was bad enough with the Registration Act being in place. This action only escalated the problem. It meant that the underground was getting more brash and trying to get their way by causing fear into the politicians. Streak knew for a fact that this would only anger the politicians more and allow them to push through what some had been able to argue against. Now those few that might have been fighting in support of the mutants didn't have a leg to stand on. Shawn knew it. And so did everyone else that was helping to get support for the mutants. As soon as Streak heard this news he jumped out of bed. Subtly didn't even cross his mind. He covered himself in silver as quickly as he could. Sure taxi's were fast. But he was faster. The silver man took a quick look at the map laying on the table in his room. He'd circled the area where parliament was. Just in case he'd ever need to get there. Or needed to send someone into that area. As it turned out he was the one that needed to get there.

Streak's mode of transportation would be fast enough for anyone who tried to make out what he was wouldn't be able to. With that he looked out his window and flew through it. Up, up, and away Streak flew. He climbed up, very high. High enough to be able to mix in with the clouds and the blue sky. Thankfully, he was able to get high enough also to where he could see the grey smoke rising trying to meet his height. The silver flyer headed straight towards the parliament's plume of smoke. From his height and the smoke he couldn't really see anyone down there until he was closer to the ground. However, in the interest of staying hidden and unknown as a mutant he headed towards the ground inside the smoke. Once his feet touched the ground he ran over to Sam. Shin was already there and so was Sara, Alex and some others that he didn't recognize. He pulled his silver back into his skin and ran over to Sam. "Is there anyone inside?" Streak asked. No time for formalities or pleasantries. If there were people inside then they needed to get them out as soon as they can.

Circe, Tarin, Sam, and Ms. Nobes. They appeared quickly. He was rather grateful for their arrival: it gave him the tools to do more than simply stare.

>> "Nice text, by the way. I'm assuming we didn't have any people in there."

“I hope not,” Slate stated mildly. Of the four others present, he was only confident that one of them would know the name ‘Fausto Martense.’ That person was not a Kabal member. Nor had Iron Mouth’s potential usefulness as a tie to the Mansion been exhausted.

Fausto had been the one to send the warning. Slate could only presume that he was safe.

>> "It looks like Sam is going to put out the flames. He might be able to stabilize parts that are left of the structure too. Somebody other than me needs to take charge and tell people what to do. With current events, and as usual, people are going to take orders better from someone who at least looks normal."

“That would not be me,” Slate said, easing his mittens off of his hands. “I’ll be healing the survivors, soon.” All three of his Kabal members likely remembered what his ‘healing’ also meant. “Most people find it easier to accept direction from adults, in any case. Tarin—do you think you could direct things? Is there any way you can contact the spirits, of the dead, and use them to find where survivors are?” Slate had no way of knowing the burden he’d put on Tarin, by bringing him this close to so many new spirits.

“WereCat—could you help S...” The cat-like woman had already started walking towards the X-Leader. Right, then.

“Circe—you’ve been training as a nurse at the Mansion, have you not? Could you see to it that they bring the Senators closest to death to me first, when they begin pulling them out?” Slate’s gaze went again to the X-Leader’s back. Sam seemed to be busy: two new arrivals from the X’s had joined him. Shin, Slate recognized, from a short basketball game last year. He didn’t recall ever having a formal introduction to ‘Silver Streak’, but the man’s information was in the Kabal’s files from Calley’s days. They all seemed rather intent on the Parliament. Not that Slate had to worry about being overheard.

If you could ensure their unconsciousness when they reach me, he instructed Circe further, that would be most helpful.

He had no desire to deal with willful Senators. He trusted that they would be much more agreeable, the next time they awoke.

Tarin nodded when Slate explained that he didn't think they had any people in the Senate building. From anyone else, 'I think' probably wouldn't have made the medium feel better about the situation from Slate...that was fine. If nothing else, Slate's comment gave him pretty much complete confidence that Lee wasn't in there. As much as Tarin hated to admit it, that is what he was really worried about. Not all the dead people in the building, not the smoke that was steadily building from the building that had collapsed, it was selfish, but Tarin was being honest with himself.

Slate was delegating responsibility. That was good, Tarin wasn't good at those sorts of things, which probably explained why he was taking orders from a teenager in the first place. Then Slate dropped the bomb. Tarin winced at his own mental commentary, it was probably too soon to be making bomb jokes, but the kid wanted him to lead things. Well that made...wait a minute. Slate wanted him to lead things. There were X's there too, as well as their leader, and Slate wanted him, Tarin Brooks, to lead things. Huh.

Tarin thought about that for a moment, then glanced in Sam's direction, a slight smile on his face this probably wasn't the time for a pissing contest, but a person simply didn't look a gift horse like this in the mouth. Besides, Slate said he'd be busy. Busy healing.

Tarin almost laughed, the Senators would be healed, and all it would cost them was a little free will. It was still something Tarin struggled with from time to time, but all he had to do was remind himself that they were caging people like animals in this country and it wasn't such a moral struggle any more.

He almost sighed at what Slate was asking him to do. There was no way the kid knew what all those spirits were going to be like, pissing contest aside. Tarin had agreed to help though, help in any way he could. Besides, Slate was right, people listened better to adults, and with the hat and long sleeves, people might just take him seriously. The medium nodded his head slowly, "Yeah, I can do that." he said, then turned to the X's who had gathered. As much as he liked the idea of being in charge, this meant he was going to have to work with Sam. Meh. "How close do you think I'm going to be able to get?" he asked the X-leader. " We should get going, I like your idea about building up the structure to keep any more collapses from happening. What about everyone else? Let's try to play to our strengths here."

There was general chaos everywhere and emergency services were starting to arrive. If Tarin knew anything about major disasters, though, they wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, at least as far as help was concerned. "Are you going to set up shop here Slate, or somewhere else? I might be able to recruit a few helpers to run ambulence duty."

When all the logistics were settled, they set off. Tarin moved with Sam, trying to stick close until they could find any survivors...or spirits. Anywhere there were survivors, they were sent in the proper direction, whether it was to help look for others, or back towards the help that was starting to arrive. Something occurred to Tarin, "Hey Sam...I know you're going to be tryin' to help...but try to keep a low profile if you can. They're not exactly fond of our kind here if....if....woah..."

Tarin stopped dead in his tracks, the other man forgotten. There were spirits. Lots. Of. Spirits. Tarin's head was spinning a little with the rush of images and emotions. He swallowed and started counting breaths until he could settle things out. When he had things under control he took a deep breath and started sorting through things. This was going to be a long day.

"Nice text, by the way. I'm assuming we didn't have any people in there."

Blue eyes widened slightly at these words. Fausto. Was he alright? Did he get out of the building before it caved in? Concern made a short appearance on the molecule manipulator’s face. Unfortunately, there was no time to worry for Fausto now. Alexandra had told him to be careful. She hoped that he had truly listened.

She let her eyes travel to the X-Men. Sam, Streak and Shin were not far from where she was standing. In the distance, sirens announced that authorities weren’t far. They needed to move fast and they needed to keep their mutations concealed. Looking at Sara, Alexandra wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for the cat mutant to be there.

As a side note: Was Sara working for the Kabal? Alexandra sighed. Perhaps, if Slate decided to share more information she wouldn’t be so damn surprised when she found out that people she’d previously met were involved with the Kabal. But, apparently, this was Slate’s way of running a faction.

“Circe—you’ve been training as a nurse at the Mansion, have you not? Could you see to it that they bring the Senators closest to death to me first, when they begin pulling them out?”

<< If you could ensure their unconsciousness when they reach me, he instructed Circe further, that would be most helpful.>>

Alexandra simply nodded to both of the requests of her leader. She rolled up the sleeves of her coat, starting to walk away from Slate. Behind her contact lenses, the blue turned darker and darker as she activated her mutation. Removing the scar from her nose, she let her powers make sure that the air around her was breathable.

<<Call me if any of them is delivered conscious and make sure you stay where I can see you.>>

With quick steps, Alexandra moved next to her other team, eyes on Sam, waiting for other instructions in case he had any for her.

Approaching the building Sam worked at the first pile of rubble, which was slowly smoldering. He didn’t think to risk anything by going in alone without dishing out his orders to those who had responded to his summons. Within moments, Streak and Shin appeared; good the dynamic duo had arrived. They were among the people he trusted most in the world and they had arrived to help. Within a second he noticed Sara, Tarin, Alex and Slate, all of which he had to do a double take, not at Alex but everyone else. He had no idea that the others had been here.

His hand raised and a beam of ice shot from it and he looked to Shin and Streak ready to dish orders and answer questions, ”Alright, S…” he was cut short as Tarin spoke. Tempted to give a witty retort about getting him closer to the fire than Tarin probably would have liked. Sam aimed his arm at another smoldering flame and quickly snuffed it. He had no intention of icing the building tighter right off the bat but the more he thought about it the more he began to like the idea. Right before he was about to agree with Tarin he was again irritated by Tarin’s ‘control’.

Blinking once Sam looked to Tarin and then looked to the rest of the group, ”Right, Shin and Streak there are people still inside the building under rubble on fire I don’t know but get them out by any means necessary, from here bring them to Alex.” he paused and turned to Alex, ”Anyone who has minor injuries do what you can to patch them up, and if any are beyond your control feel free to toss them to Slate, I have a feeling that he will be staying back waiting for them anyways.”

Sam remembered slightly the reaction Slate had to a possible fight and his reasons for not getting involved with any sort of confrontation when they had a meeting with Pacifica, he was a healer and a healer would be best at healing not running around looking for people to heal.

”Sara you still have that communicator I gave you?” he paused for a moment to look at the cat woman, ”If you have it your going to be the runner, I need you to sniff out anyone that could be trapped somewhere, and if need be help anyone who might need it. You’re the fastest one here after all and you’d be the biggest help with the search and support.” he nodded his head slightly and looked to Tarin and then shrugged, he didn’t like Tarin, not one bit but times called for them to work together and that was just what he was going to try and do.

Watching Tarin’s eyes dart this way and that Sam couldn’t see exactly what Tarin was looking for possibly spirits, which was his mutation after all. ”When you get things sorted out feel free to help out.” turning his attention back to Streak, Shin and Alex, Sam nodded his head, ”Move out!”

The fires caught Sam’s attention as he had started snuffing out flame after coal making an attempt to slow the building from burning down. Eventually after he had managed to take care of the immediate dangers with the flames before making an attempt to support the structure, even if he could support the massive building the flames would only slow the process.

“WereCat—could you help S...”

Cat seemed to have Slate's tongue when it came to asking her to do things. To someone who was nieave, they might of thought that Sara had simply read Slate's mind or had been super obedient to the point of knowing what was asked and doing it. The truth was that Sara wasn't just going to sit on the side lines. She was going to do what ever she wanted and really those around her were just lucky that she happened to want the same general thing.

So what! Sara was a softy at heart.

Sara Knew very well that she was throwing aside the subject of her own physical safety. It didn't take a geanious to know that Sara was in an area that was going to be getting a lot of attentions. She was the most obvious mutant there at the scene, weather she was wearing her long coat, with the collar pulled up around her face or not, and she was in a country that, (Oh YEAH!) was holding a registration act. The burning building and a gathering of people and mutants just made things De'Ja'Vu for her. She remembered the comunity service from the camps in the US. A building caught fire, and her, Ted, Raina, and Neena had helped get people out. Only to have themselves shipped right back to the camps.

”Sara you still have that communicator I gave you?”

Sara nodded. Right the communicator. She'd been leaving the thing in the hotel room during her bribery trips. The fact that she hadn't forgotten it today was pure Luck. She lightly tapped the side of her hat and nodded. her left ear twitched from wearing the device. "Yup"

”If you have it your going to be the runner, I need you to sniff out anyone that could be trapped somewhere, and if need be help anyone who might need it. You’re the fastest one here after all and you’d be the biggest help with the search and support.”

"Right slick." Sara was the biggest help that Sam knew of. Her eyes darted for a moment to Tarin. If he had the luck of getting cooperative ghosts (Yes Sara could now recognize them as ghosts.) they could have an even better search party. Then again Sara also remembered the mission in Columbia that she had been on with Tarin, where his spirits had killed someone right in front of herself and Sebastian.

Sam worked on putting the flames out, and Sara ducked around the mane group, so she could be closest to the building. With the smoke in the air, her sense of smell wasn't going to work very well unless she was within feet of someone and her sense of hearing had to try to work ever all the other noise around her.

So the search began....

>>"Is there anyone inside?" Streak asked.

Shin hadn't seen him arrive. He'd already focused on the shard formation in his mind. On the grid of his concentration, two of the four pieces had already appeared. They were 5 inches tall, equilateral, , and shaped like Vs folded together, triangle back to triangle back. Shin's eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the mental geometry. Against the green of the X axis, Shin stacked the Vs. They quickly formed up the main sides of the cube. Four green shards piled on the top and bottom of the cube, finishing it off. Shin's eyes snapped open. He looked to Sam as he started the answer to Shawn's question.

Then, the ice mutant was cut off. Shin glanced over his shoulder at the cause of interruption. He hadn't seen Tarin in a while. He looked well enough. Shin had half-expected to see Lee with him.

His eyes hopped around the area, checking to see if she was nearby. All he saw were Slate, Alexandra, Werecat, and Tarin. No Lee.

Then, Tarin started to give orders.

>>"Hey Sam...I know you're going to be tryin' to help...but try to keep a low profile if you can. They're not exactly fond of our kind here if....if....woah..."

Shin instantly let his shard-summoning concentration slack. Oh, right. It was a good thing he hadn't yet summoned the shards. They were trying to keep a low profile. "Good call, Tarin. Wait--" A moment later, he noticed the spirit medium pulling a Keanu. Shin stopped. "That bad, huh?" He glanced out towards the wreckage. If Tarin was saying 'whoa', that wasn't a good sign...

Sam took charge again. Shin's attention returned to the ice manipulator.

>>”Right, Shin and Streak there are people still inside the building under rubble on fire I don’t know but get them out by any means necessary, from here bring them to Alex.”

"Right," He replied. "Tarin, want to help me? I can shift the rubble with my shards if I'm careful. Do you think you could help me out by sending your spirits to search out survivors...? Or telling us where the injured and the... dead... converge." His voice tapered towards a choke. "You point, I'll shift."

Trapped in a coffin of rubble, unable to move a single muscle he awaited the moment when his brain ceases to receive these nerve impulses which received from the painful situation of every part of his body. His heart was shaking in his little chest trying to send blood to the rest of his body and send the little amount of oxygen that his lungs could get from the vicious air, the important thing was to survive. To remain conscious seemed the most important thing to do. Although he did not see that white light gate calling for his immortal soul to eternal rest, many said that it was the way, but still he did not see it, so it was not his time. How much time had passed since the explosion? Seemed he spent hours there, but he knew that was impossible for his tired body to bear the pain for more than a few minutes.

His body was stopped by pain, his heart and will recoil from the anguish and only left space in his head for Post Mortem thoughts. In some of them the whole mansion wore black to mourn at his grave, in other representations no one even remember his name, but the ones that remembered him did not show importance to his death. In many of these imaginary simulations Katrina and Koga were the only ones concerned about him, the only ones dressed in black mourning him.Also he could not help imagining the next step to death, would him be judged by a higher being? Or clinic death would be the final step? Of the people he knew, only one knew the secrets of death or at least should know because he was a walking corpse literally. But he never thought to ask if he knew what come next, or how to cheat death when is slowly coming toward you but at a relentless pace.

He felt with all his body that crushing weight that stopped him and pressed down as if wanted to sink him into the earth, in a tomb of concrete away from his house. Whenever he tried to move his legs he just received a sharp stabbing pain in response, from beneath the skin .. In the arm the pain seemed to penetrate the skin, broken bones danced inside his flesh tearing muscles with each movement. Miraculously, his head was intact, he felt like received thousand blows, he also had some cuts that bleed a lot but none had pierced his skull, not his brain that tried to keep functioning despite the constant pain that at times became so numbing, his own pain sang a lullaby inviting him to rest. But he knew that if he let this sleep to come over his body, he would never wake up.
His mind was focuses on everything that mattered, his friends, his parents, in his ideals, and all seemed so far away. He did not know if he had dreamed all or he actually had lived all these things. Was that the end he deserved? His blood ran down his face from the wounds in his forehead, while his tears clean those sad dark eyes. He could not know why these tears were there. He did not want to know for fear of discovering that he did it only for selfishness. For himself, wanting to live above all else.

== Just a part of this ==

It was not much of a message he got. More like a warning really. The senate building had been bombed. Or was to be bombed. From what little he knew about the Underground it was these kind of overbearing reactions that endangered all of them. Really, how stupid could you get? Simply kill a few of them and scare the others off... But bombing the whole senate? It had something excessive. But considering it was a national holiday, weeell. Maybe it was a good symbol. In a way. But still...maybe there was something he could do. He dialed a number on his own phone. A prepaid one that he had procured for this mission only. It would be found later, Sim Card missing of course, in a garbage dump on the outskirts of town. But right now it was still fully functional and quite ready to awake to beeping life.

"Alexei." the word was more a statement then anything else. No good morning. No good day. Just a name. "Mr Alexei, I wanted to inform you, that the Underground has just announced that they will bomb the Senate." His face was twitching. Was he just calling the Mafia and giving them information? He was apparently. "Consider it repayment for your two Guards." He managed to give his voice this bland and totally unexcited tone that was required of people stamping forms in public offices. There was no thank you either. Mr Alexei had not gotten over that yet it seemed. The line was cut.

Lifelines loosing.

Martin did not prepare to go to the Senate. What should he have done there after all?