It had been thirty days since the Senate building had been bombed, which made it the last day of the year in the current version of the calendar. It had seemed more like thirty years. For those in the camps it had probably seemed even longer. Finally, finally, finally the Underground was ready to mobilize. They had found the camps location, surveyed the area, devised a strategy for attacking it, formed strike teams, and mobilized. It was about [insert favorite Greek swear word here]-ing time.

It took a week to get the exact location from the trackers. Another two were spent waiting for Mr. Stone to carefully scout out every nook and cranny or the earth around the underground prison. Another week to discuss strategy, debate strategy, yell, moan, hit, wrestle, complain, and fight over strategy. A day to get everyone into position in the subway and sewer tunnels that passed the closest to the underground levels of the prison camps. Three hours of waiting for Mr. Stone to personally check that everyone was in place and tell Psyche to give the signal.

Go! The command took a split second to echo through the unicorn's head. He shook his mane in anticipation.

A pair of glowing eyes blinked open in the dingy wall in front of them.

“Welcome to the Kettler Detention Center for Delinquent and Dangerous Mutants. My name is Mr. Stone and I'll be your tour guide,” the rock traveler grinned at Sebastian and his small team. This was the kind of action he had been waiting for all this time.

“Please follow me,” their guide continued in Romanian. “Just on the other side of this wall is the Welcoming Center, where new guests are processed.” He placed a hand on Sebastian's shoulder and the other on the third member of their team. “Please don't wander off on your own. It's dangerous to go without a guide.” Sebastian had never seen the traveler look as cheerful as he looked right before he melted the group straight into the rock wall in front of them. Sebastian's vision went gray. He felt like he was being pressed tightly from every side. Between a rock and a hard place. Then, suddenly, they were on the other side.

They tumbled down a mountain of clothes and landed in a tangle amidst the shoe foothills. In front of them, two workers were shoveling shoes into a furnace while two guards with strange looking electronic devices in their hands stood watch. Sebastian and his team recovered from their fall faster than the guards recovered from their shock. The unicorn aimed a kick at the first guard designed to leave him unconscious for several hours. Mr. Stone grabbed the other and shoved him head first into the concrete wall where he stuck limply like a reverse hunting trophy. Then all was still again.

Sebastian shook his head sadly at the man in the wall. The first blood had already been spilled.

“Well, that was fun,” Stone commented, brushing the dust off his hands. To the prisoners he added, “Congratulations on your new freedom. Would you care to accompany us to the control room?”

With explosive touch, fists of steel, acid tongues, incorporeality, and good old fashioned (though not as old fashioned as a unicorn) sticks of dynamite, the members of the Underground and their affiliates were making their way into the prison. If they had calculated everything correctly, they should have at least one team appearing on each of the seven floors simultaneously in key locations, like Sebastian's team.

“This way to the control room,” sang Mr. Stone as he pushed open the door to the hallway.

The hallway was very long, so long it seemed to curve at the far ends. One side of the hall was all doors all the way down. The other side was all brown tinged windows that faced an open area that seemed much too large to be underground. The unicorn stepped toward it to look.

The opening was circular and very very large. All around it were columns and between the columns brown windows, seven layers worth. At the very bottom, seven floors down, laborers were working on another construction project of some kind.

“To your right, you'll see the control room where we should be disabling some collars and some locks. To your left, a long drop. Behind us, you'll notice some of the locals, preparing a ritual war dance.” Sebastian turned quickly and saw what Stone meant. A group of guards was running straight toward them, reaching for their weapons and their electronic devices.

Sebastian jerked his head toward the control room door and gave the rock traveler a push toward it. Someone with fingers needed to go push buttons. The rest of the team could provide back up.

Notes and logistics:

[/url].

Prisoners, you can assume that the master switch for the collars has been turned off, thanks to Mr. Stone.

You may continue posting in the camp threads or the Underground organization threads at the same time this thread is happening.[/ul]

She was fire, She was ice. She was the very first thing Shin saw as the realization of the rabble around him sunk in that the collars were offline, and he could finally open his eyes.

And she was... coming his way. Guns, drawn.

"Holy shit!!"[/color]

The spry Asian man tumbled out of her way. The blond-haired gunner barreled past him, as she danced through the crowd of mutants, taking out guard after guard.

The time had finally come. It had taken far too long. She could sense it in the way the Underground spoke around her, she'd sensed it in the way Sebastian moved his tail. Lenna could taste the anticipation of this day in the electricity of the air around her, and most important of all, she was ready.

The package had been delivered alongside the metal-armed infiltrator, Meld. Two beautifully-modified Beretta 92FS's. Stainless steel, with ivory grips. Inlaid with the infamous insignia of the pirate, Calico Jack. Their barrels had been extended from 4.9" to 5.9", and adapted for silencers.

The 9mm, 'Sword Cutlass'-engraved, beauties reared back nicely in her hands, and claimed another knee.

Good stopping power, Lenna mused. Her lips drew into a thin smile behind the white of her mask. The guard sunk to the concrete as Lenna wheeled around a spry Asian and his dumbfounded middle-aged friend.

The Sword Cutlasses roared. The Romanian guard's back arched as the bullet hit him in the forehead, then slowly rolled to the side.

Slate said 'no-killing'. Lenna considered innocently. She turned to aim a glance back at the absentmindedly-made corpse. An amused sigh escaped her. Whoops. What Slate didn't know wouldn't kill him. Or her paycheck.

As she walked away from the dead body, her eyes trailed back towards the Asian and his friend.

Correction: Not trailed. Locked. And widened.

Him!! From Columbia. One of Slate's guys? Crap.

Above the corpse, a spirit winked into confused existence. He blinked up at the ceiling, turned to face Tarin and Shin, then shimmered in Tarin's vision as Lenna stalked past him to look the middle-aged man in the eye.

"That just there? You didn't see any of it. Got me?" Her eyes were serious.

And then she poked him in the chest.

The time had come. Tarin had known that the time would come, but he simply hadn’t been ready for it. It had been so long since he’d been able to do what was natural for him that seeing the first spirit, linking up with it, made him flinch. A wash of understanding flooded through him and Tarin finally understood what it had been like for Lee after the camps. God, if he’d have only known, his feelings would never have been hurt by Lee’s behavior…but then he’d never have pushed her either. Things wouldn’t have happened as they did in Texas…maybe they wouldn’t be married. Lee. There was a chance that Lee was here…if she’d managed to find the resistance, there’s no way she’d have let them come without her.

Tarin looked down at himself, would his wife even recognize him? The coat was the same, but it was absolutely filthy and torn in places. He absently scratched at his face, there was a month of facial hair there. Tarin had always been clean shaven, but the guards had not taken kindly to his request for a razor. There were other differences too, of course, he was thinner and his face was a little more ragged. Most of the bruises had faded, but there were a few shadows here and there across his face.

A gunshot rang out and Tarin stumbled a few steps, hands instinctively moving to cover his head as if that would function as some sort of shield. He’d been completely somewhere else for a few moments and it had almost cost him. Shin was tumbling out of the way of the shooter, but looked unharmed and after a moment watching the figure Tarin’s eyes widened. It was a woman.

When the whirling stopped and the woman faced him, Tarin’s jaw dropped to match the surprise in his wide eyes. Most of the guards were simply moaning on the ground, clutching various shot limbs, but the last one had been hit right between the eyes. The spirit staring in shock at its body was testimony. Another flinch. That was going to get old fast. The woman though, she was absolutely unmistakable. They’d met before. In Colombia.

The woman had called herself “Lee” but her full name had been something else. They’d shared empanadas. Now she was pointing a gun at him…no not just pointing…poking him in the chest with it. Tarin’s jaw tightened, he’d had just about enough of being bullied around over the last month. The distraction was enough that he didn’t even realize the effect the woman’s proximity was having on the spirit and his link with it.

”You can put the gun away.” he said tersely, ”Or at least point it somewhere more effective. How do we get out of here?”

No it wasn't a great idea to mouth at the person holding a gun to your chest...but enough was enough. Tarin even smirked a little, "Had any good empanadas lately?"

This woman... this woman, this woman, this woman... Shin's vision wavered as a body fell behind him, and she swept past him, towards Tarin. A hand came up to his eyes, and rubbed them. He tried blinking a few times. It was still no good.

This woman, he rationalized. Is something different... something...

Ghost had told him once of a situation where she'd encountered a person who'd made it impossible for her to use her powers. At the time, he'd thought it was interesting, but hadn't thought much more than that. This woman, though... it seemed his new power was vision-connected. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots. Shin grimaced as he staggered away from her. Away from Tarin. Away from them both.

"You aren't a normal human, are you..." His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "My eyes. My vision... something like that happened before, with Ghost. You... negate... something something..."

Judging from her proximity to Tarin, and the way the grid wavered around her, he deemed the distance reading approximately 5 feet. The way she was affecting his eyes, though... that was as good as it was gonna get. He'd have to keep his distance. It was even difficult thinking straight.

>>”You can put the gun away.”

The man replied tersely. Talking back to her after an order? Interesting.

>>”Or at least point it somewhere more effective. How do we get out of here?”

Her eyes dropped innocently to the pointing implement. Had she been pointing that pretty thing at his chest? How rude of her. It wasn't like she was going to shoot him or anything. He was one of Slate's friends, after all. And he had guts. That was a plus. Slate had good taste. Lenna wore a smirk behind the white fabric of her mask to match his own.

Then, he went and blew her secret identity.

>>"Had any good empanadas lately?"

The smirk sunk. The safety clicked on her right-hand gun. She tilted it up, and away. "Sadly, no. They don't really make em like they do in Columbia."

Lenna had a shoulder-slung holster on each side of her chest. They were made of brown leather, accessible, and fit easily next to the bulletproof vest under her black leather jacket. She slipped the Sword Cutlass away into her one of the two holsters as she spoke.

Lenna reached up to tug the white face-mask down. Now that her identity was out of the way, she supposed the best she could do was show her face. "Name's Lenna. And you are...?--"

>>"You aren't a normal human, are you..."

The Asian finally graced them with a word. Lenna turned her head to face him. It seemed he'd scurried away to spout accusations.

His eyes, his eyes. Apparently, something about his eyes. Was she affecting them? Too bad for him. She couldn't change that.

>>"... You... negate... something something..."

"That's right. And... stunningly wrong. 'Adapted', I believe is the word we use. Mine is a bit weaker. Not full-negation, but weakening within a five foot radius. Sorry. I can't turn it off." Her head swung back to the other man. "I'm thinking we should stick together. I can explain everything else later. Let's get out of this place."

Then, she turned to lead. The exits were this way. She sure hoped they followed. It wouldn't do if one of Slate's own got owned for not listening to directions.

A guard stumbled forward to block her path. Without thinking, the gun in her left arm rose to pop off his kneecaps, and blow him away.

The previous month had been horrible, but finally things were happening. Lee had been hesitant about taking too much energy from the other mutants she had been around for the month, they were going to need as much energy as they could get too, so Lee didn't have nearly as much energy as she would have liked going into something like this.

But then again, Lee reasoned with herself as they made their way very tensely to where the camp was, she hadn't had a lot of energy at the start of the last breakout, either, nor when things hit the fan in Columbia. There would be tons of people she could siphon from once they got there.

She was alone, though. At least that was Lee's plan once she got in. Once she got her energy level up, there probable wouldn't have been many who would be able to keep up with her, anyway.

By the time Lee got in, her heart was pounding. Luckily there didn't seem to be any guards within sight. That was just as well; Lee slipped away from the four others she had entered with, moving ahead of them. Once Lee was about twenty feet away, and putting more distance between herself and them, Lee started siphoning more as she used that to feel for anyone who might come close to her.

And, for the first five minutes that she was in there, Lee only ran across a couple solitary guards, who she took out almost without effort. As long as she wasn't concerned about possibly taking too much energy, she seemed to be able to drop these men, drained of energy, in easily under a minute. And they only fought with any real force for the first few seconds before that energy started to diminish, hers growing even stronger the entire time.

Next thing Lee knew, she was moving along a hallway with a long series of doors on either side. Doors with small windows in them. Glancing through one of the windows as she passed, Lee saw beds, or at least what would pass as beds in a place like this. It didn't matter the time of day, it was possible there would be people here, hiding out or whatever. Someone was going to have to get them so they could get out, and she was here.

So Lee started opening doors, looking in, even going into the rooms a short way to look and feel for anyone there. But there was no one there, at least until she was in the fourth room she checked. As soon as she saw him, Lee stopped, her head tilted to the side, her brow furrowing. "Slate?" She asked tentatively. It looked like him, but man he looked like hell.

Having once been to Hell, Slate could attest to two things which ran counter to popular belief. Firstly, the Camps were not Hell. Secondly, he did not look like Hell. He was simply less clean than preferred. Daily showers were, it seemed, considered a luxury here. It had been two days since his last one. His clothes had last been washed... somewhat less recently than that. Yesterday, he had curiously sniffed at himself. He had not repeated the experiment.

As with many inmates, Slate had not been permitted access to a razor. He suspected this was more out of concern for his own safety than for the guards’: some of them seemed to think he was mentally... lacking. The result was intriguing. Contrary to his initial hypothesis, it seemed that his chin, left to its own devices, was not capable of growing a beard. He simply had a goatee. Also, a finely whiskered ‘stache. He somewhat liked how they made his reflection look: it was not Calley’s face that looked back at him, any longer.

To repeat, he did not look like Hell. He looked more like one of its young accountants.

Baby blue eyes blinked as the door suddenly opened to a familiar face. One that was not here to lead him to the latest hall in need of clean up, before the red stain settled into the concrete.

>> "Slate?"

“Hello, Ms. Brooks. Has the breakout begun, then?” The teenager rose from his thin bed, readjusting his olfactorially dubious sweater. “I am quite ready to go.”

It may have been Mr. Stone that did the button pushing (it wouldn't have done for her to break something that might trigger all collars of something foolish like that, after all), but it was Lori that did the honors of draining the generators dry.

All security cameras, escalators, elevators, and other electric equipment hardwired into the grid were now useless. Of course, that meant that the main lights were too. Back up lights came on, all dramatic and dimmer than the florescent ones that had lit the subterranean halls before. More sparse too.

It also meant that Lori had enough charge to be a wee bit happier about all this than she usually would have been.

She whistled as she skipped over dead or incapacitated bodies. Their front runners, Lenna and Lee, were good. She was headed for the isolation cells that would have to be manually opened. No point in leaving their heroes behind.

((OOC: Continued in The Monster at the End of this Book))

Slate was...Slate. Even after spending a month in this place, he simply stood calmly when he saw her and greeted her just like she would if they had run across each other back in New York.

Lee knew that she wouldn't have been so calm in a situation like this. She hadn't been this calm in a situation like this before.

But Slate was ready to get going, and Lee certainly didn't want to just stand around. There were more people they had to find to help get out of there. Tarin to find.

Lee had already turned, moving to make her way back out to the hallway, when the lights went out. Lee paused, turning back to where she felt Slate standing, and a second or two later the lights, though dimmer, flickered back on. "Where's Tarin?"

As soon as someone yelled out that the collars were off, the guards in the kitchen didn't stand a chance. Some were knocked out, others simply trampled over, and one ended up with his head in a cauldron. Lily herself could feel the rush of energy as a month of suffering, worries and pent up anger turned into pure adrenaline.
The few guards left ran out, partly to avoid the attack from inside, and partly to see what was going on outside. The sound of chaos, yelling and shooting could already be heard, and that finally managed to break the shiny fog created by the promise of freedom.
Even with the best intentions on the part of whoever came to the rescue... many could be caught up in the crossfire.

In the past month, Lily grew light and pale, but she didn't grow weak. Constantly struggling with the collar, he managed to keep her powers under control. It was useful knowledge, great training, and one long month of learning self discipline the hard way.
It all ended now.
"Watch out" she told the girls who had been working with her lately, and started to pick up some English "Be careful. Avoid the fighting." looking out the door, she took in the sight of people fighting and running on all levels of the camps, both above and below them. Her lips curled up into a smile "Leave it to us."

Letting her sixth sense flow, she felt like taking the first breath after living underwater for weeks. Their surroundings, the earth itself lit up with metals, and her eyes half closed at the sensation.
Now we're talking.
Another blink later, she pulled herself together.
"Go that way" she pointed, and the girls followed her orders, sticking together as they went. Looking around once again, she started to run in the other direction. One palm against the wall of the corridor, she could feel the pull of metals behind the concrete, but she had no way to get closer to them. She needed to find a place where...
Most cell doors on the level were already wide open, or at least left ajar; some cells were bound to be carved into the rock. Following the signs of her powers, Lily pushed one door open...
"Oh hell."
... and found four guards staring back at her.
They must have been hiding out, survivors from some previous fight; they were torn, bruised, not to mention desperate. They also looked at her with fear when she appeared; the moment of surprise should have been enough for her to run for it, or make them believe she was indeed as dangerous as they thought. But even if she was running on adrenaline, Lily was exhausted, and by the time she realized it the moment was gone.
She managed to run as far as the next door on the corridor before a hand grabbed her shoulder and slammed her agains the concrete wall; in the dim light she could recognize the guard's face.
She'd been here for amost five weeks. She could recognize most of them. Just as well as they knew her.
She didn't understand the words they said, and she was glad she didn't. Most of her energy was used up by struggling, and delivering a kick that sent the guard staggering back; two others took his place, and she kept fighting silently, saving her breath for later.
In this chaos, nobody would hear her yell anyway.

The past month had been... curious.

Muscles in his body twinged as he followed Lee out of the cell, reminded by the movement that they should be sore. Moping was not a particularly strenuous activity: convulsions, it seemed, were. He had begun attempting to keep his body relaxed, when one of the guards triggered his collar; thus far, the experiment had proved unsuccessful. It was (retrospectively) intriguing, how effective the sudden pain was at clearing his mind of all thoughts. Still, he had not gotten the worst of it. The mop boy was generally called in after things had settled down, and after the guards had already gotten in their hourly quota of button-pressing. He was not particularly outspoken, either. It addition to the lack of common language, the clean up itself was surprisingly engrossing: though the floor rarely looked cleaner, the water in his bucket steadily turned darker—generally, even darker than the floor. It mystified him every time.

Aside from the lone guard who seemed to have some manner of quarrel with him (possibly related to the scar Slate had put on his face, the time he had barked at the man, or the mutual electrocution incident), the others found him largely unworthy of their attentions. There were more exciting victims to prey on. Ones who changed facial expressions in a slightly more satisfactory manner, when subjected to electrocution.

Slate himself found the other prisoner’s expressions quite curious. He had been observing, but he could not seem to replicate them. The loss of thought when his own collar was triggered, you see. It reduced him to his basic reaction.

In large part, that seemed to be locking up his muscles quite uncomfortably. Also, blinking.

The lights went out. Blink.

>> "Where's Tarin?"

Slowly, like tired moths, the emergency lights fluttered to life. They continued moving.

“Ah. He is... not here. He was taken a few hours ago, with Shin; I believe they were doing some sort of work near the infirmary.”

“This way,” he said, stepping over an unconscious guard further down the hall. He did not seem harmed; merely down, until further notice. Lee’s work, perhaps?

Shouts, screams, and disturbed clangings echoed from the floors above and below them. It was really quite unpleasant, such chaos: it was like a rather compact rendition of the rest of Romania.

The first thing he needed to do after leaving here was get within range of the Senators he had healed; their loyalty commands were in distinct need of triggering. No: that could wait. The first thing he needed to do was take a shower, and trim the goatee to a proper geometrical shape.

Yes. That would be quite nice.

Tarin didn’t even sigh in relief when the woman pulled her gun away from his chest. That’s just how much he’d been through in the last month. While he hadn’t been the guard’s favorite play toy, they hadn’t been sparing with the collar buttons. Not by any means. The electric shock had grown to remind him of his childhood, which was a little f’d up and unusual in and of itself. Then again, most people probably hadn’t gone through electroshock treatment for their ‘schizophrenia’ when they were kids either.


One of the guns was put away, and the woman pulled her facemask completely down. If it hadn’t been enough before, she gave her name as Lenna this time and Tarin’s eyebrow raised. ”Lenna then. At least this time.”

Shin obviously knew something about this, Lenna, and Tarin’s eyes widened as he slowly nodded his head. The chick was like Jacen. Tarin frowned, he didn’t remember anything like that happening in Colombia, and Lee would have noticed. It didn’t matter, though, there were other things to do. Lenna’s appearance and her five foot radius of partial nullification was something to remember though. Definitely. The shock of being able to use his powers again was wearing off though and Tarin called out to the spirits in the area. They all wanted help, absolution and as they started to gather, he promised them help…if only they’d help him.

Needless to say, they agreed. If Tarin had taken the time to count, he’d have seen several more than the eight he was currently linked up to mentally. His was focused though, that was something he’d gotten far better at in the camps. Focus.

Lenna turned to lead on, with very little to say about it, and Tarin gestured to Shin to follow. The guard didn’t know what had hit him and Tarin sent a spirit ahead to pull the guy out of the way. Leaving a bread crumb trail of bodies straight to them would be a terrible idea.

A thought occurred to Tarin and his arm shot out to grab Lenna’s. She had guns, and that might have been a risky move, but the Medium didn’t care. If Lenna had come in with the resistance, ”Where’s Lee? That is where we‘re going.”

>>”Where’s Lee? That is where we‘re going.”

Lenna paused. Her head turned back to look at him. It usually wasn't a good idea to come up behind a gunner when she was gunning. He was lucky he had something going for him today. If he was working with Slate, then it'd be rather silly to do anything bad like cap him. Plus, she'd already said they were working together. She merely shook her arm from of his grip, and looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry. I haven't seen her. If she's with the rest of the Underground, she should be somewhere else in the 7 levels of Hell."