"And your cameraman?" The monkey tailed man continued his own interview.

"Who, Vince?" Maxine looked almost surprised that the Edict member was giving a thought to him. "Gawain wanted him here to protect me." Her tone was pleasantly dismissive of this.

"But you're a big girl, right? You can handle yourself," the man smiled, with his too-sharp teeth.

"Of course." Her pride would be offended at any other suggestion.

"Show me," he said. The redhead smiled a quizzically polite smile, not getting where this was going. The man's tail pointed at the lion shifter. "I'd like to see his power. Fight him for me, would you?"

The redhead frowned, casting a meaningful glance over at the wrinkly lion shifter. "I can't beat up an old man."

"Sure you can."

"Sure I can," Maxine agreed. She was humming a little as she stood up—the same song as Minstrel, in a higher octave. Like any woman who meant business, she slung her purse over her shoulder, and put a hand to her hip. "Now Vince," she said, "if you want to quit, just say 'Uncle', okay?"

With a smile and a hum, she unzipped the purse.

The first blow came at a mere fifty-two miles per hour; a song pen warning shot aimed to lightly graze his cheek. Would he even see it coming? Old guys had such bad eye sight.

Vicente continued to eye the people that were in the room. It was obvious that this rouse was no longer going to work. The men knew who they were, they knew why they were there, and worst of all, they seemed to be affecting them in some way that he could not comprehend of at first. Why was Maxine just spilling all this information to them? She was supposed to be a world-class journalist and yet she was just spitting out everything as if she were a busted five-year old. It was enough to want to make the assassin want to take her out of her misery.

But as he slowly stood up, he eyed the monkey tailed man as he continued to speak and goad Maxine one.

>> "Show me…I'd like to see his power. Fight him for me, would you?"

>> "I can't beat up an old man."

He growled…

>> "Sure you can."

He shook his head. He really, REALLY did not like where this was going. He was sent here to protect the kid and his redheaded little friend. But he drew the line at holding back if his own life were on the line. But maybe that wouldn’t be the case. After all, what could the little reporter actually do? She did not seem all that dangerous…

>> "Sure I can…Now Vince…if you want to quit, just say 'Uncle', okay?"

Vicente was just about to ask her what she was talking about when suddenly a land-to-air missile in the shape of a tiny pen went hurtling towards him. He barely, fraction of a second barely, had time to tilt his head out of the way.

Slllliiiiiiiittttt!

He growled as the small spider-web of pain he felt emanating from his cheek. There was the smallest trickle of blood daintily flowing down his broken skin. Eyes narrowed, in one smooth motion he quickly unzipped his jacket and pulled a pair of graphite knives from their sheaths. He held them dangerously as he eyed the woman before he smirked.

“Kid told me to keep you alive or he’d cut my pay,” he said with a grin. He then shrugged. “I think I’ll take the pay cut.”

Coldly he stepped forward but before he made any lash towards anyone, Vicente reared his leg back and kicked, hard, the heavy video camera he was setting up, and sent it sailing in Maxine’s and the monkey man’s general direction. He didn’t care who it hit, but he was spilling someone’s blood.

Gawain was inspecting an empty room - what a waste of time - when the calm, smooth, quiet voice rang out of speakers he had not noticed before.

"We would like to inform all residents that intruders have infiltrated the facility. Two of them are contained upstairs and one is on the move. We would like to request all workers assigned to emergency security duty to leave their rooms at this time and report to their posts. Anyone who encounters the third intruder - possibly male, late teens - is required to apprehend him, or her, causing the least harm possible. However, if necessary, deadly force is authorized. Thank you for your attention."

"What the f..." Gawain growled. Three things registered in his brain in the same moment:
One: Maxine and Vicente were in danger.
Two: they knew about him.
Three: that tell-tale cracking sound that comes half a second before a mirror shatters to pieces.

Gawain fell, and rolled away, shards of glass raining around him; there was a pain in his chest and a spiderweb of shallow cuts over his shoulder.
Barely.

"You look like a late teen to me" the female voice rang out from thin air, almost amused "Looking for someone, sweetheart?"

"Yeah." Gawain growled, tilting his head to the voice "And you are not her."

It looked like thin air, but his heel did connect with something reassuringly solid; by the time he heard the gasp, he had torn the door open and was out in the hallway.

Here's to hoping they don't have another mirrorwalker...

The camera! He kicked the camera! The redhead rushed forward, catching it with a omph. Was it okay? He didn't hurt it, did he? Poor baby—one of its tripod legs was a little bent, but it seemed okay otherwise.

Maxine raised her head. "Careful, Vince," she said with all the dangerous air of a girl about to put her pops in the home, "hurt company property, and I might have to really hurt you."

Really hurt wasn't anything like that little kitten scratch on his cheek. The redhead blinked suddenly, and looked to the monkey-tailed man. "It's all right if I really hurt him, right?"

He gave an amused sweep of his hand, still sitting at ease in his chair. "By all means, be my guest."

What a relief. She couldn't remember ever having permission to really hurt someone. Not even in middle school, when James Jameson kept pulling her hair and she just wanted to— Or high school, when Cora Nicollet wrote nasty words about her in the bathroom stall, and the girl would have deserved it if she'd—

That little part of Maxine that had always wanted to hurt someone—just a little, just until they cowered and apologized and never showed their face to her again—came humming gleefully out.

"Knives, Vincey?" She smiled. "Really?"

From her purse rose a mere few ounces of paperclips—just a box of one hundred, that spread out in a slivery metal school in front of her.

Behind him, the pen came back for another pass; this time, towards his left shoulder.

Knives were so cute: they were like pens that couldn't fly.

The camera went sailing but instead of hitting any of the marks he wanted it to, it was instead caught by that irritating little redhead. He was going to make sure that when he finally got his bare hands around her neck he was going to simply watch as he choked every last bit of life out of her body. To watch that life drain from her eyes, it was going to be so worth the pay cut.

>> "Careful, Vince…hurt company property, and I might have to really hurt you…It's all right if I really hurt him, right?"

>> "By all means, be my guest."

He arched a brow. He quickly began to take in an appraisal of the situation: Maxine was fighting him, she kept turning to the monkey man for permission, but she was also humming and it was exactly the same tune as the other man in the room was humming. Either of them was connected to why Maxine suddenly decided to take it upon herself to end his life. If he could remove either of them from the equation, then that should at least tip the scales in his favor. At least distract Maxine long enough for him to get a drop on her.

>> "Knives, Vincey? Really?"

He grinned…a bit wickedly in response. “You’d be surprised.”

STAB!![/b]

A roar fell from his lips as he felt something stab, deep into his left shoulder. Vicente staggered briefly as the sensation of something stabbing into his flesh. It did not take long when, mixed with the look on Maxine’s face, for him to realize exactly what it was. The pen that Maxine had summoned to fly at him the first time had finally found its mark. He knew he should have done some deeper investigation into exactly who this woman was and what she could do.

Stupid move on his part. He’d make sure to rectify that later.

The pen still jabbed into his person, he looked up just in time to a mass of paperclips forming in front of her. Definitely not good. It was time that someone was removed from this…

A glance around, Vicente snarled as he suddenly jumped into the attack. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Vicente made to charge at Maxine with a roar of anger. But before getting to her he spun fast and in an unseen blur threw both his knives: one aimed for Maxine, straight between the eyes, and the other aiming for the sound of vibration coming from the other man’s throat.

He’d show her just how knives could fly…

Sneaking around was not an option anymore. The young knight's footsteps rang painfully loud as he tore down the corridor, hoping he was running the right way, which he probably wasn't, but then again there is rarely ever a right was in an underground facility crawling with hostile mutants. He just needed to find a freaking mirr...

The floor came up to smack him on the nose and he mopped a good ten feet of it before he rolled to his back. Damn.

"That is no way to treat a lady" the invisible voice chided him. Wiping blood from his face and flicking it away Gawain sat up, trying to locate the source of the giggling. The echo in the hallway was not helping.

"Awww, can't see me can you." the voice giggled; Gawain tried to turn to follow it, but his head got dizzy.

"So, who are you exactly, hm? Breaking out, sure, I get it, we get those every once in a while. Breaking in? What for?"

Turn. Slowly. His head was clearing up.

"Got a damsel in distress?" the voice wanted to know as Gawain slowly got back to his feet "How cute. I can be one, you know. I certiainly am a damsel. But, I am afraid, you are the one in distress. Too bad. If you could see me, trust me..."

"You are naked."

The giggling stopped.

"... what?"

More blood was wiped to make the smirk visible. Noses tend to bleed extensively.

"Ya heard me. You can't make anything invisible except yourself. You're naked."

The few drops of blood hung motionless in the air.

"Spoilsport."

"Bitch."

Twenty feet; about the distance from this room to its neighbors on either side, through concrete walls freshly painted.

In the room to left, there was a newspaper being read for the second time by a teenager lying in bed (the stock market still sucked; so did the economy; so did being locked in a room with a light bulb, a bed, and yesterday's newspaper). There was a pen, that he'd stolen on his last mission, and a paperclip, which he was vaguely considering trying to unscrew the vent covers with.

In the room to the right, there was a jumbo box of colored pens—the good kind, thanks boss!—tumbled over on its side on a desk, and a fresh stack of printer paper being scribbled through in real time. A Swiss army knife (in Butcher's Red and Hi Ho Silver); a Seattle Mariners hat (in Peace Lily White and Mesopelagic Teal); a telescoping lens that would fit her sniper rifle so good (lovingly shaded in Camo Coat Green and Sunny Camel Brown). A sketch animator never knew what she'd need.

All told, that was forty-six pens, one hundred and one paper clips, and a simple, every-day sheaf of five hundred sheets. Also one newspaper, twice read.

Maxine wasn't paying much attention to them, of course; she was a bit busy at the moment, gasping at Vicente's bad manners—he'd thrown a knife. He'd actually thrown a knife! At her!

(That's not to say they were not paying attention to Maxine.)

As the paperclip school defensively tightened its mesh to block the knife, a tapping started up on the walls—a very persistent, repetitive tapping. Just a lone tap from the left; an entire angry flock from the right.

A miniature black abyss opened in the path of Vicente's second knife, swallowing it in midair. The snap of the monkey tailed man's fingers as it opened could almost be missed with the sudden noise from the walls, but his amused expression certainly wouldn't be.

(A single paperclip wiggled its way under the closed door, easily scooting past Vince's shoe to join the school in front of Maxine.)

"Uh-uh, Vince," he said, his tail draped over one arm of the chair, "if you want to fight the big boys, you'd better take down the little girl first."

After the paperclip came the paper. White and solid, rustling past like a howl. Like the pen had gone for Vicente's blood, the paper went straight towards the redhead—

—Who met it with a smile, an airy hum, and a complete lack of flinching.

"Shut up and do what you're told, for once."

The paper spun for a moment more; a tornado in place. Its papers contracted, coalesced, its form becoming more clear as it packed itself more solidly into existence.

A single newspaper page, half-torn where a hand had tried to grab it, slipped under the door and drifted up to settle as a gray-typed mask over its snout.

"You haven't even shifted yet, Vincey," she smiled. "I can't help but think you're not taking me seriously."

The paper dog looked quite ready to kill someone. Maxine hummed an obliging tune.

The blade hummed through the air as it flew. It flew gracefully with every intent of taking out the targets that it was aimed for. The first was caught in a mesh of paper clips, no surprise there. He had intended to lose that blade so that he could use Maxine for a distraction. The second target was his main priority: the Humming Man. But as he watched out of the corner of his eyes, before the blade to reach the intended target, suddenly something happened.

Vicente’s lip twitched as he watched the blade disappeared into the folds of black space and then vanish completely from sight. Eyes narrowed, he quickly began to make a mental checklist: Monkey Man – tail, summon black holes of sorts; Maxine – summoning paperclips and paper and pens to fight for her (telekinesis?); and lastly, The Humming Man – the tune he is humming must be controlling Maxine.

The odds were not good.

>> "Uh-uh, Vince, if you want to fight the big boys, you'd better take down the little girl first."

>> "Shut up and do what you're told, for once."

Paper suddenly filled the room and formed a protective tornado around the redhead. It spun, fast and began to suddenly take shape. He eyed the paper, wondering what that was going to be now and narrowed his eyes. Quickly his mind began to run through the scenario, ignoring any and all of their talking.

Monkey Man was running the show in this room. He could intervene and keep Vicente from killing anyone he didn’t want dead; Humming Man was controlling Maxine, but Vicente did not doubt that he was safe from any attack by Monkey; Maxine was their attack dog now, fighting against him under their influence. As much as he really wanted to kill her, that would leave him at a disadvantage. Two-to-one, especially since he did not know where the kid was. Bad odds, especially since they were just goading him so that he could use his powers…

>> "You haven't even shifted yet, Vincey, I can't help but think you're not taking me seriously."

He was no one’s sideshow attraction. They were playing with him, just so that they could see him use his abilities, but what repercussions would that have?

Too many variables and not enough cards in his hand.

Another hum…and suddenly the paper dog was on the attack. Vicente was not sure just how dangerous that thing could be so he was no doing going to take any chances. He charged forward, almost as if he were going to play “Chicken” with the paper beast before he suddenly spun again off to the side and procured another graphite blade from the confines of his belt. He then moved like a freight train straight for Maxine but keeping both the Monkey Man and Humming in view. If they wanted a fight, then full steam ahead. But…he would steer the fight as close as he could to both of them, maybe he could catch them off guard long enough to sink a knife into one of them…

Having a tail with blades on it is just genetically unfair.
Also, there's no way in hell that's popular with the ladies.

Gawain rolled, leaving a trail of crimson drops behind.

"Freakin' Jurassic Park freak" he muttered, scrambling back to his feet and running, not even looking back to see if his latest oppnent was still following. He just needed a mirror to get the hell out of there. He was not equipped for fighting ultra-creepy trained mutant killers, and he certainly was not in the mood. Wherever Mom was, now it was going to be near impossible to find her. Plus, he needed to go check on Maxine and Vicente before they killed someone...

... or each other.

It only took him a moment to assess the situation as he looked in from the mirror on the wall. There was a fight going on all right, but it was not against the bad guys, it was... well. Technically, Vicente would qualify as a bad guy. But still.

Also, he had no idea Maxine could be that badass.

Many things happened at cone. Gawain moved around in the mirror, positioning himself before he would jump out and into the fight, wondering wich bad guy to take out first. And then the door was kicked open and in poured at least three of the resident mutants, all yelling at ocne about mirrors and other half-concieved ideas...

Really, what did he expect, coming for her like that? There was a school of metal clips between them; there was a lump of octoclip in her purse who hadn't even come out yet. And there was the paper dog, just looking for something to attack. Maxine hummed distractedly, a smile on her lips.

Really, Vince. Such a silly old man: didn't he know how fast dogs were? That's one of the reasons they'd always been so scary to her—they were big, they were fast, and they had teeth made to tear flesh to pieces. Huge teeth. Maxine knew what dogs were really like.

As Vince lunged towards the dog, it stood its ground with a warning snarl. When the old man foolishly let his guard down to attack li'l ol' her...

The dog lunged for his arm, its mouth gaping preternaturally large in a whirlwind of biting edges. She danced a few steps away with her paperclip school, still humming. It was at that point that the door slammed open, and the party crashers arrived. She was frowning at them before she'd even caught their words.

"Mirror?" Her humming faltered through an icy smile. "You break into my fight, and now you're trying to hurt Mirror?"

"You don't really care about that," the monkey tailed man intervened, still perfectly at ease in his chair.

"Of course I care. It's Mirror."

"Of course you care," he transitioned reassuringly. "You should catch him for us, too."

The redhead considered this with a finger on her chin. "Oh. All right. But first..." She turned back to the dog fight, with the most apologetic of smiles. "Excuse me, Vince—I'll have to finish beating you later. Some more important people are here."

"You don't want to fight them," the monkey man interrupted, sitting up a little straighter; a little less comfortably, a little more uneasily. He shot a glance to Minstrel. The man in the corner hummed his tune even louder, beads of sweat on his forehead.

"Oh, but I really, really do." The smile on her face was alarmingly photogenic. She was humming her own tune, now: just a little more melodious than the other mutant's, just a little more discordant.

That was the problem with a music-based manipulation–everyone had their own song, somewhere inside of them. And once it got stuck in a girl's head...

"Don't kill them, please," she said sweetly. "Just maim them a little."

Metal tentacles rose from her purse like a kraken from the deep. Octosaurus Rex tumbled out to play nice with all the other kids, the paper dog a tornado on his heels.

Vicente really had no idea that a paper dog could hurt that much. But as its papery teeth bite into his arm, the assassin could do nothing but howl out in pain and force it off of his skin. Thankfully the creature was only made of paper so it was simple enough for him to toss the creature aside and back away. In doing so he watched as the madness began to ensue. Maxine was breaking free of whatever control the humming man had over her, well at least so much as to be able to walk out of the room in order to help Gawain.

He snarled as the woman casually left the room and in her wake left…what he could only identify as a small octopus made out of paperclips. He was beginning to develop a new found respect for the woman.

Once she had left the room, all hell broke loose. A whirlwind of paper, paperclips, and paperdogs began to run amok, attacking absolutely everything in the room. Both the monkey-tailed man and the humming man were targets, unfortunately so was he. But Vicente knew he had to have enough time.

While the other two were preoccupied with fending off paperclips and paper, Vicente managed to find himself in a corner to himself. Hey, they wanted to see what he could do…right?

Snarling the assassin could feel as his face and limbs began to shift and change. The bones painfully reshaped themselves, elongated and snapped into place like reconfiguring puzzle pieces. Before long the assassin and turned into a walking chimera, with that of a large lion’s head, the arm of a gorilla and the other arm of a tiger.

Teeth bared, golden eyes gleaming, the assassin could feel his bloodlust rising as he glared between each of the men who had forced Maxine to attack him. A sadistic smile crept across his feline features as he watched them buffeted by paperclips and paper. Now…it was his turn…

”ROOOOOOAAAAWWWWWWWWRRRRRR!!!![/b]”[/color] he roared his lion’s roar and jumped into the fray…