>> “You’re smart Chase, but you got to be more flexible. English is about what can be, not always what is.”

Chase puffed his cheeks out at Locke in protest, furrowing his brow. He couldn’t be that smart if he couldn’t solve an English problem to save his life. English was so stupid. Chase looked at Locke with his unconvinced expression, only dropping his gaze when a book was pushed towards him. Chase dropped it gaze. It was a very big book, and he recognized the word to be “dictionary”.

>> “You know, a dictionary is really useful when you work on English homework. If you aren’t sure if you spelled a word right it’s better than spellcheck on a computer. Sometimes it gives you different words that you can use so you don’t say the same thing over and over again. It also will tell you what is plant.”

While Locke spoke, the shapeshifter hesitantly touched the dictionary’s cover, he’s fingertips sizzling with the momentary contact. It had predominantly one genetic signature upon it. Chase withdrew his hand before any shift could occur, seeming hesitant, but Chase offered a quiet chuckle at Locke’s fake accent.

“Is it your dictionary?” Chase inquired, rubbing his fingers together as if they’d just received a mild electrical shock. Chase shook the sleeve on his long-sleeved shirt down, covering his hand, and he delicately opened the cover of the dictionary up, using his sleeve as a makeshift glove. As he opened the front cover, he revealed a few old looking photographs, which Chase slid out with his sleeved hands. His fingertips brushed them, briefly, and he picked up an entirely different genetic signature.

“Those belong to someone else,” Chase observed casually, picking them up with his sleeve and setting them onto the table casually. By someone else, he meant that two different people owned the photographs and the books. Or at least, one had been in possession of someone else for a greater extent of time. Chase returned to the dictionary. He’d used dictionaries before, but they’d been childrens’ dictionaries. Full of pictures, only containing simple words that children knew. This one was thicker, and it contained scant pictures. Chase took up a chunk of pages, and flipped from the A’s to the end of the M’s. He knew how to use a dictionary well enough, but… this one didn’t have colorful pictures.

“There aren’t any colorful pictures,” Chase observed to Locke, continuing into the N’s, before hopping to the beginning of the O’s and continuing onward towards “plant”. He was reciting the alphabet in his head, trying to decide where the word “plant” would be.

No doubt about it, Chase thought Locke was crazy to say that Chase’s brain wasn’t the problem here. ”Really Chase, you’re not stupid or anything. English can be tough. My friend Eaan is in a grade higher than me and he’s failed it three times. Three!” Chase’s handwriting, while still young, actually looked like letters instead of alien cipher. ”But you know what’s the important thing? ‘Never, never, never give up.’ Winston Churchill said that, and he was a great man.”

There was hesitation when Locke offered Chase his dictionary. It probably was because of Chase’s mutation, but the teen thought it was because Chase now was facing not only a book, but a book that had everything about Chase’s least favorite topic stuffed in it. ”Yeah, I’ve had it for years,” The length of time Locke had his dictionary probably wasn’t important, since there was something else that Chase was interested in. It was the few pictures that he had kept in the dictionary and forgotten were there. Detective Cervantes had taken some of them for evidence, but so far there had no new news.

The look on Locke’s face was a fear entirely different from the fear of a pop quiz in math. ”Oh, yeah, those. Um… I don’t know who’s they are, but those are pictures of me when I was younger than you are now,” Honesty was important to Locke, but there were things that he couldn’t bring himself to explain to kids. Chase had enough to worry about with his homework Why should he worry about Locke getting strange mail?

Chase only frowned all throughout the pep-talk, his head propped up on his arm. He might not have been stupid, but there was something wrong with him, if it was this difficult for him to get a simple little English assignment. He had never said he was giving-up, he was just frustrated and… taking an indefinite break. Yeah.

>> “Yeah, I’ve had it for years,”

“I can tell,” Chase mumbled, brushing the photos aside as he continued to turn the pages. The dictionary was totally satiated with a genetic residue. Meaning that one person had owned the dictionary for a very long time. Yet, when Locke uttered the next phrase, Chase returned his attention to the photographs.

>> “Oh, yeah, those. Um… I don’t know who’s they are, but those are pictures of me when I was younger than you are now.”

Chase picked-up the photos again, squinting his eyes at them. He could see the similarities of the kid in the photographs, and the older boy before him. Chase looked down at them, leafing carefully through the photos.

“Do you want to know who?” Chase inquired absently. He looked up at Locke, setting the photographs down again. He only wanted to be helpful. Maybe if Locke knew who the photos belonged to, then he could give them back, “Do you want to know whose they are?”

Chase tucked his hand under his sleeve, and used the sleeved hand to slide the pictures away. He flipped through the dictionary, casually explaining, “I can tell who something belongs to just by touching it… And then I can shapeshift with it. M-maybe if you know what the person looks like, you can give the pictures back.”

Chase reached the page upon which “plant” was listed, and stopped.

“I bet it was your grandma,” Chase commented, “Grandmas take a lot of pictures.”

The stalker's photos were much more interesting to Chase than the dictionary, or maybe the kid just wanted to get away from his homework. The plus side of not knowing what a stalker is was that Chase could look at the pictures without fear. To him they must be nothing more than photos that needed an album. "Yeah, of course I want to know who had them first. Detective Cervantes is looking into that for me," Locke wasn't watching Chase. For his own sanity he wasn't looking at the pictures, focusing instead on his laptop. Whatever Chase was thinking, Locke had no clue. He had no reason to suspect that Chase would think about turning into the one the photos had come from. On Halloween the kid had chosen the item that would be least likely to cause him to change into someone else.

Chase offered to use his powers to give Locke the information that he so wanted. It was tempting. The police hadn't really come up with anything yet. The photos simply had too many fingerprints on them to say who they had come from. Locke hadn't thought at any point not to touch them, so there was not only the first owners, but Hugo's, anyone that the owner had shown the picture to, Locke's and Ms. T's. "Chase, it's not going to be my Grandma. Grandmas are sane. Well.. sort of sane." Locke wasn't familiar with his grandparents. His dad had distanced himself from his family, and Locke wasn't sure if the grandma he remembered was on his mom's side or not.

"Thanks for the offer, but I can't let you do that Kid Death," the teen decided. It was going to drive him mad to know that there was someone running around New York waiting to snap a shot for whatever twisted reason. Better though that Locke go mad than to let Chase be exposed to stalkers. "Sometimes adults do some scary things. Whoever sent them to me is being scary."

>> "Yeah, of course I want to know who had them first. Detective Cervantes is looking into that for me."

“Detective Jorge Cervantes?” Chase echoed, his finger trailing down the first column of words on the page. Nope, no “plant”. Onto the next column. Oh, there it was. Chase pointed to the word “plant” with his free hand, and announced, “I found plant!”

He set one of the pictures down just over it, as a means of bookmarking it, and went back to the other pictures, flipping through them. It was difficult for Chase to grasp what Locke was saying. He wanted to know who they belonged to, Detective Jorge was looking for them, but he didn’t want Chase to look, when he could do the job a ba-jillion times faster. It was his power, and Chase felt compelled to help his friends. Yet here Locke was, vetoing the idea.

>> "Chase, it's not going to be my Grandma. Grandmas are sane. Well.. sort of sane. Thanks for the offer, but I can't let you do that Kid Death. Sometimes adults do some scary things. Whoever sent them to me is being scary."

Chase pouted. It was like having a jar of cookies within arms reach, and not being able to eat them because they might be bran cookies.

“That’s stupid,” Chase complained, slouching onto the library desk, setting the pictures down beside him. Stupid was the worst word in his arsenal, which expressed ultimate displeasure. Here the answers were, so close, yet Locke didn’t want to see them. Chase didn’t grasp the concept of having a “stalker”, he only understood that some scary person had sent Locke pictures, nobody knew who, and that Chase would be able to tell who. Maybe they’d be less scary if Locke knew who they were.

Sulkily surveying the word “plant”, Chase saw that it was one of those nouns that was also a verb. You could have a potted plant and you could plant a tree. Chase went to his worksheet, and jotted down two brief sentences.

A plant needs water and sun. and, Laura wants to plant flowers.

Chase quietly set down his pencil, and stared at the photos, before letting his gaze slide towards Locke. The gears were turning in Kid Death's head.

Locke wanted to know who was sending the pictures. Who had all these pictures? Why? His Dad had taken some of the pictures, he could remember a few of t hem. Locke had never gone to the CVS to pick up photos when they were developed. Unlike most kids when Locke was young he had no interest in cameras. He paid little to no attention to the disposable cameras that were purchased. If it had been up to him one camera would have lasted from first grade up until high school.

But just because Locke could guess who had taken most of the pictures didn’t mean he knew who had gotten them. His father hadn’t been a social butterfly either, at least not with people he actually saw. The internet was an excellent way to talk to people without having to reveal who you really were. Locke knew that Hugo would chat with clients on projects he was working on, occasionally asking opinions from members of the programming forums he was a part of. With Kendra always on the hunt for anything dangerous or suspicious of the web, Locke had serious doubts that she would have let Hugo get away with sharing photos of his son with people he had never even met.

”Yeah it is stupid,” Locke agreed with Chase. Mutations existed to be used. You aren’t born with something extra if it is just going to hinder you. Locke could pick up on earth vibrations, so he used that to see where he couldn’t physically see. Chase could turn into someone by touching an object, instant hiding powers there. But just because you could do something didn’t always mean that you should. Walking around with Fluffy all day would be awesome, but impractical. ”It’s stupid, but it’s safe.”

Locke concurred with Chase, but he didn’t. Chase pouted, puffing his cheeks out. That was the worst, having someone you thought of as a friend telling you that you “couldn’t” do something. Particularly if you were a kid. Locke said, no, you can’t. And Chase’s kneejerk reaction was that, yes, he could if he wanted to. Thus he pouted. And Chase was being told that he couldn’t use his power, of all things.

Time to change tactics.

“It takes me longer to start thinking like someone who I’m pretending to be,” Chase informed the older boy, pushing the photograph with his fingertips, “I’ll only do it long enough to get a name, promise.”

His tone was whiny, as if he was pleading with Locke to let him watch an extra half-hour of t.v. or asking if they could have a dessert after dinner. His eyes were an intent, intrigued yellow-gold, pleading with Locke to at least let him try.

Even if the older boy said no, though, Chase's curiosity was piqued now. He'd probably go for it anyways, even if Locke said no.

Chris and Mai could try to persuade Locke into letting them do what they wanted. They begged extra treats, tried to stay up five more minutes by asking for a glass of water. In general they would test him to see if Locke kept to the boundaries that he had set for them. The answer had always been yes, Locke was going to be that stubborn. When he said that something was a rule, it was the rule. He knew what was best for his little brother and sister and filled in not only the role of big brother, but father as well. This was a different situation though. What Chase wanted wasn’t the same as asking for that glass of water. Locke could say no to his little sister’s request because it didn’t affect him. It was a selfish thing that didn’t tempt Locke. Mai was the one who claimed to be thirsty. A glass of water for her did not get rid of his thirst.

Chase’s desire though was the opposite. Locke was the one who wanted the information, the one that needed it the most. If Chase were to turn into the sender of the photos it would give him nothing more than the satisfaction of helping Locke out. It would be like Locke giving that glass of water. No personal thirst quenched, but a good feeling none the less. Chase was young enough that he could honestly want to help with no thought of personal gain. Well, not necessarily young. Age didn’t play as large a part in this as the core personality of Chase and naivety. It’s hard to be selfish when you still think there’s good in people.

Locke stared at Chase, aware now that Kid Death was trying to sneak the photo back. He didn’t try to regain his stalker’s gift. They were living in a society that encouraged quick solutions and easy fixes. Need to write a paper? Forget about going to the library and searching through encyclopedias and finding other sources to cite. Just jump online to the internet and get your research done in a matter of seconds. You could even write your works cited online instead of bothering to learn how to do it on your own. Kid Death was an instant answer machine.

No. Locke shook his head. Chase might be able to answer the question of who his stalker was in an instant, but he was still a kid. Even if he needed to hold onto the item for a longer time to start thinking like the person he turned into he was young. Locke wasn’t in perfect control of his powers, and he had been practicing with them on a regular basis. ”Ms. Taylor would kill me if I let you. This is serious business. Let the grown ups take care of it.”

It was the staring match to end all staring matches. Chase wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and that was that. Really, he’d only asked Locke because having permission would make him feel like whatever came about wouldn’t be the fault of himself, but the older boy’s. Locke didn’t grant Chase permission, though. In fact, just the opposite. He said that Gemma would kill him if he agreed, that this was serious business that the grown-ups should handle, not him. If there was anything that would urge Chase to do something stupid, any phrase that could be said, it was that. Let the grown-ups handle it, you’re just a baby—this is serious business, nothing that a little kid would be able to handle.

Chase huffed and looked at his worksheet, a petulant retort bubbling in his chest. Chase could help Locke better than any of those adults. He had the power to, that’s what his mutation was. Why would Gemma be mad at him for helping? Chase’s gaze maneuvered towards the next clump of words on his worksheet without really reading them, before cutting towards the pictures, and towards Locke. Locke wasn’t watching him.

The nine year old leaned over and quietly grabbed a couple of the photographs with his bare fingertips, iridescent gaze surveying them, before flickering towards Locke. If the older boy looked up… he’d stop Chase and take the pictures away.

The nine-year-old wasn’t about to let that happen. Chase sprung out of the chair and took off full-speed, pictures clasped tightly in his bony little fingers. He had to get somewhere out of reach fast, somewhere where he’d have time to shift. Chase ran down the row of tables, a shout of, “No running!” following him from one of the library aides. Chase didn’t heed them as he slid into the proximity of the staircase leading to the second floor of the library, grabbing onto the banister for enough leverage to swing himself around the corner and propel him up towards the second story.

Chase ran past rows of bookshelves, ducked down the first row and ran again, before coming to a halt. If Locke had followed, Chase had outrun him, at least for now. The nine-year-old paused, taking the pictures into his hands, and willing himself to shift. His fingertips perceived the dominant genetic residue upon the photograph, and the tendrils lurched into motion in response. Chase could feel himself growing taller, could feel his mind mixing with that of the new form. Chase was vanishing, and the Doppelganger was taking hold—the marriage of two forms, two minds, gradually melting into one.

The Doppelganger allowed its eyes to open, staring down at pictures that had enabled its shift. The hands of a woman, aged but not old, grasped them. Footfalls were rushing closer. Locke rushed closer, and the Doppelganger dropped its hands guiltily, the left of which grasped the incriminating photos.

“My mother doesn’t have to know,” a hoarse, alto voice countered, a smirk tilting the Doppelgangers' lips. The "Chase" persona lingered, for Chase had yet to delve into the mind of his new form, but he was on the cusp of it. The doppelganger began the downward descent from "Chase" to the new form with a simple inquiry, “Do you want to know who I am?”

Locke knew that telling a kid not to do something was a bad idea. It just made them want it all the more. Life was full of disappointments and being told “no”. When you’re a kid it must seem as though every question was answered with the negative. It wasn’t that Locke wanted to let Chase down. He liked the kid, and not just because he missed his brother and sister. Chase was funny in his approach to life. He had to say not only his name but what he was dressed as on Halloween. It really was too dangerous for Chase to get involved, and there was no way to say it without making the entire thing sound more tempting to Chase.

The subject was closed in Locke’s book, which meant that he turned his attention back to his homework. There had been a bit of text that would be especially useful to cite, but Locke hadn’t high lighted it and he needed to re-read a couple of pages to find it again. High school textbooks were the worse. You weren’t allowed to make any sort of annotations if something was really important, but teachers never could stop students from making crude drawings or writing lame things like “I wuz here”. It made studying nearly impossible sometimes. He couldn’t look at anything else while hunting for the info that he needed. His eyes were attached to his book.

On the other hand his feet were attached to the ground. Once Chase hopped off his chair and starting running the alarm bells went off in Locke’s head. Big brother mode activate. Locke had a pretty good idea why Chase had taken off so suddenly and was trying to get as much distance as possible. The photos that were on the table now were gone. No hope that Chase’s departure was because he had finished his worksheet. It was sitting on the table still, incomplete. ”No no no no!” Locke said, his voice escalating with each no and recognition that he had to book it. He rose to his feet, getting caught in a chair that didn’t move away from the table with ease. I should have just taken those stupid things back.

Even with the librarian aide’s reminding that there was no running in the library Locke’s legs took flight. Ever since he was young Locke had been an active kid. Now that he wasn't able to drive the only way Locke could get most places was by the use of his own two feet. Running after kids was no problem. Running after a mutant kid could be different. Chase’s weight was shifting, the way that it was distributed no longer spoke of the kid. On one hand it should make chasing Chase easier. Nobody else was turning into a stalker, at least nobody he knew of at the school. But the change in the foot falls made it an inconsistent to track. He couldn’t tell with absolute certainty where Chase was going.

Locke was stubborn though, and when it came to the defense of kids Locke was going to do his best to make sure that they were safe. As awkward as following a changing body was, Locke kept at it. By the time he managed to track down Chase he knew he had been too late. The stupid chair fumble had given Chase a few precious seconds to change into the stalker.

His stalker was a female, which was a relief of sorts. He didn’t want a stalker, but at least it wasn’t someone like Herbert from Family Guy. Unfortunately it wasn’t someone within his age range. Older stalker, creepy. Locke’s brain had a fuzzed feeling to it, like when you first wake up. Stalker had something that Locke recognized, a face that had been encountered once before. ”Chase, drop the pictures right now,” Locke demanded, his voice stern and hard. It was his fault that Chase was now imitating someone that was off their rocker and Locke was taking charge. ”I don’t care who you think you are. I want you to turn back this minute.”

The Doppelganger shook its head in protest. It was older, now. It had more authority. Yet, it was still a child. Still immature and testy. Even if Locke didn’t want to know who Chase had become, Chase did. It was his curiosity, it was his inclination to help, and it was being told “no”, being told that he was too young to handle such serious, adult matters. The Doppelganger surveyed the pictures, as if contemplating following the teenagers’ orders, and second-guessing its decision, if only for a moment. Then it held the photographs up above its head casually. He wanted them? He had to come and get them.

“What’s my name?” the Doppelganger breathed. That’s all it wanted. A single name. A first and last name swam forward, answering Chase’s inquiry. Renee Price. Renee. Brown eyes swung towards Locke, colored by the confusion of a mental shift. Chase was stepping out, and Renee was taking hold. That was the price of turning into someone—becoming them. It was an exchange that came with the desire for more details.

“Tell me about yourself, Renee,” the Doppelganger murmured, “What do you want with Locke?”

Its words were only a soft susurrus, mutterings under its breath. If Locke stepped closer, he might be able to hear what the Doppelganger was saying. With that inquiry came a wash of emotions… years upon years of tangled, crazy, obsessive thoughts. Nearly a decade of them. The Doppelgangers’ eyes initially widened with alarm as the intensity of it all overwhelmed it. They loved Locke, they hated Locke, but above all, Locke was hers. As the thoughts took hold, they stuck. It suddenly all made sense. Locke was theirs and theirs alone.

Compelled by the growing influence of Renee, the Doppelganger lunged forward, pictures still in-hand. Any inkling of Chase had been lost to the new individual, any inclination to release the pictures had also vanished. Chase wouldn’t return until the pictures were taken away.

The woman clawed at Locke, hands grasping towards one specific place-- Locke's throat. She was smaller, weaker, but she was also driven by the vigor of insanity.

“If mommy can’t have you,” the words rolled off of Renees' lips, cloyingly sweet yet colored by an ominous air, “Nobody can.”

She lunged again, a frantic flailing of limbs intent upon Locke. If only she were stronger, if only she were the taller of the two. Then killing her own son wouldn't be so much work.

---

ooc: Renee speaks in dark orchid except without the space.

Even with turning into a new person Locke was the taller of the two. It should have been very easy for him to overpower this stranger who seemed to know so much about him. Physical strength was probably in favor of the teen boy, even taking in to account how fit the lady was. Even if muscles and height weren't a factor, Locke was a mutant who's powers served excellently at disabling potential threats. Taking the pictures away from Lady/Chase should not have been a hard task to accomplish, yet there were two critical points that kept Locke from doing so.

This was his stalker. Locke had been confined to the institute not only so that he could catch up on his school work, but for his safety as well. By having him stay on school grounds it meant that he wasn't likely to run into his stalker. It was safe. A face to face confrontation was most likely not. Stalkers aren't usually entirely stable in their thinking. Their behavior was an obsession that wasn't healthy. So as he stood unsure of how to proceed, Locke's mind was shouting at him that he should keep away. Chase might not be the real deal, and he said it took a longer time to get caught up in the mind of the one he turned into, but the chance was still there. Just being able to pick up on the thought process and actions of someone through touch made the situation dangerous. Like a lost child in a mall, Locke needed an adult.

But he couldn't just leave Chase. Kid Death hadn't gotten rid of the pictures when given a direct order to do so, which probably meant that he was going to keep riding in the hand basket. Someone had to get Chase to let go of those pictures before he spent too much time being the lady. But because it was Chase Locke couldn't do it. He couldn't just reach over and grab the kid... adult. Body shifting was confusing. Where was Chase in this new persona?

Chase said the name Renee. Like the face there was a faint inkling that Locke should know the importance of this name. Who Renee was he hadn't the foggiest, but at the same time she had to be someone critical. Someone who had met him at one point or another in his life and had access to so many photos. She knew him. At one point in his Life Locke had to have known Renee. Did he have a teacher at some point in his life that had a personal vendetta against him? Was Renee the one who caused the car crash? It did no good for Chase to provide a name when Locke's mind simply refused to spit out who that name belonged to.

Renee wanted something of Locke and Chase was trying to find it out. Locke just wanted Chase to quit it. He had no issues with seeing people use their mutant powers normally. One of the most critical promises that Locke had made to himself was that he would never again hide his mutation. Being a mutant was nothing to be ashamed of, and he encouraged the use of a mutation. However there had to be instances when using a mutation was a very bad idea. If you are a walking gas chamber, probably shouldn't use your power, and if you could literally turn into a psychopath, well... Chase shouldn't have to put up with this. Locke didn't catch the instant when Chase stopped being in front of him and Renee took the boy's place. It's hard to pick up on such a minor detail when suddenly you are under attack.

Locke's powers kicked in instantaneously, his mind slipping out of him and into the floor, searching for materials to work with. He hadn't had to make a golem in such close range before. Usually Locke got to have some more space and close quarters resulted in a gopher hole. His throat had gotten scratched up, startled as he had been and with his mind ot in his head. She backed off, or he stepped away. Distance had been granted to him, along with a chance to catch his breath and better prepare to wrench the photos out of Chase's hands. Chase wasn't there now, Locke had to stop this.

On the second attack Locke was shaping the golem's hands. They always started with the hands. Hands that would pull the golem up and it would rest on them much the way that an ape would. Her hands and arms were attacking him, testing his focus. It wasn't the physical actions that brought Locke out of his powers. It was what Renee so calmly said.

Mommy.

Not once in his life could Locke recall ever calling someone that. His mother was dead. No way that she could be otherwise. Hugo had always called Locke's mom his "angel". It had been a deep pain to not have her around. Wasn't it?

Beneath his tan Locke's face blanched. His entire insides turned into a liquid that threatened to pour out. A tremor took up the teen's body, making it impossible for him to tell what vibrations were the concrete trying to help him. His mother was dead. She had been most of his life. Or was that just a lie that he had been operating underneath? Hugo had never said what had happened to Locke's mother. It had been just the Tori men as far back as Locke could remember. Why would his dad not tell him if his mom was still alive? His dad was the greatest man who ever lived and it was a crime that his life had to end. There is no equal to finding out your hero has been keeping something from you.

"Lie.. liar," The word caught on Locke's throat and that blockage that only allowed certain things to be said reappeared. "You're not.. Chase" Locke couldn't use his powers, his body was shaking too much. This wasn't just fear making his body rebel. He could work through fear. All he could try to do was to keep Renee's hands from making contact with his body. If he got the pictures away would Renee go away instantly and Chase come back?

The chocolate-brown eyes of the Doppelganger swam with a dark amusement, the smirk tilted on her lips as Locke, Renee’s son, stumbled to a halt. His body was wracked with trembling, the words spilling out of his mouth like sludge. He couldn’t grasp it. She was lying, she had to be. She wasn’t… Chase. This caused the Doppelganger to pause, its smirk growing broader. Of course it wasn’t Chase. It was Renee. The name of the child that it had originally been didn’t even ring a bell.

“That’s no way to talk to Mommy,” the Doppelganger scolded with a faint tsk, tsk, waggling the index finger of its free hand, “After all, I haven’t seen you in so l-“

The Doppelganger was cut-off when the teen retaliated, fastening onto her free hand and drawing her in. The sudden motion put her off balance, and Locke fastened onto the photographs clutched within Renee’s grasp. Though she didn’t remember Chase, the Doppelganger knew that hanging onto the photos was essential for some rhyme or reason, and Locke was about to take them.

“Let go! Let go!” it snarled, clawing towards his face, “I’ll kill you!”

They wrestled briefly, before Locke finally managed to turn his back on the creature and, using that momentum, wrench the photographs free, his elbow connecting with her face in the process. He pushed her back, and as the Doppelganger stumbled backwards, the disguise unraveled. It no longer held the pictures, thus nothing held it together. By the time it hit the ground, it was almost, entirely Chase. Not the blond-teal eyed Chase, but Chase undisguised, with gnarled skin and dual-chrome hair, and eyes that were a solid, fearful black.

Chase held onto his nose, which had caught the brunt of the blow and was dribbling blood down his hideous face. Tears sprung to his eyes, partially from fear of what he’d nearly done, fear for and of Locke, and from the dull pain that now ebbed just behind his nose.

“Oh God…” Chase moaned quietly, refusing to lift his gaze, “Oh God…”

Locke had told Chase not do it, and Chase hadn’t listened. And he'd paid dearly for it. Panic rose in his chest as he realized that that lady, that Renee woman, Locke's mother-- she'd nearly forced Chase to kill a boy who'd all but looked out for him ever since they'd met at the Mansion. Chase shuddered and swallowed a sob, gaze darting about as he staggered to his feet. He was no better than the monster that his parents had painted him to be.

”Stop saying that,” The whole “Mommy” thing was even worse than the stalker thing. A stalker is an unknown person that you, hopefully, never actually see. Now his stalker was claiming to be someone he knew, or should know. It was seriously messed up. The whole “Luke I am your father” thing had always seemed laughable, it certainly had been spoofed more times than Locke could count. George Lucus had wanted to present a plot twist that would motivate his characters and would be remembered. Locke wasn’t going to forget Renee saying that she was his mommy. Even the word just sounded wrong. Chris might have been a little clinging to Kendra, but he hadn’t called her mommy in a very, very long time. Mommy was a word that other people used, like “Bring this to Mommy”, not “My Mommy is a psychopath”.

Calling herself his mommy was a low blow. About the only thing that could top it was if someone were to say that they were his father. Since they were dealing with a female, claiming a paternal role was out of the question. Locke had up to this point not cared too much about his deceased mom. She hadn’t been a part of his life for most of it, so he rarely ever thought of her. Now he was pondering her existence the way a philosopher or theologist would divine entities. Seeing wasn’t always the same thing as believing, and Locke had a hard time believing anything. In order for something to be believable to Locke he had to be able to get the logistics behind it.

Right now there wasn’t time for logic searching. Renee wanted to hurt Locke, and clearly that was something to keep from happening. It wasn’t as though Locke wanted to just roll over and let Renee scratch his eyes out, but his dad had always said that you shouldn’t punch a lady. Then again his dad had always said that Locke’s mom was an angel. Wildly attacking someone wasn’t very angelic, so Renee couldn’t be his mother. In any case it would do no good to punch Renee. Chase had turned into her by holding on to the photos. If Locke could only wrench them away without being too badly damaged, maybe Chase would return and this attack would stop. He grabbed onto the wrists, trying to get her hands to open on their own. Hours of studying anatomy books meant that he was familiar with the musculature of the human body. While he could remember the shape that the muscles went Locke didn’t know the names. One of them had to be the hand grip muscle. Maybe Locke could find that muscle and pinch it or something.

Grabbing onto Renee’s wrists triggered a new wave of wraith. ”Let go! Let go! I’ll kill you!”[/I] she snarled at him. The snarling was infinitely better than the calm tone she had been using earlier. Part of what had made Jigsaw such an intimidating persona was how he spoke without letting his emotions get a hold of him. Horror movies weren’t nearly as frightening as real life. At least now Renee’s voice and words matched the actions. Locke was scared still, but now he was facing someone who was at least sounding as crazy as they were.

With his grip on Renee’s wrist still Locke stepped in towards her and began to turn. Yeah his back was now to someone who had just said that they would kill him, but what were they armed with? Photos? Oh how frightening. What Locke was hoping for was that he’d be able to use his arm to pin hers, allowing him to have both hands free for taking the pictures away. It worked with trying to get stuff that Eaan had that Locke needed to get away.

Eaan didn’t squirm as much though. Before he could pin the arm Locke’s elbow was jerked up. Contact had been made and the noise it made was awful. A sort of dull thunk. He could feel the body behind him falling away. With gravity’s assistance he managed to take back his pictures. This time he took no chances. The pictures went straight into his pocket, away from where Chase couldn’t easily grab them. Now he turned around and saw… well Locke wasn’t sure what he did see.

It was Chase’s weight, just distributed in a more horizontal manner. Chase’s general size as well, but the hair, eyes, and skin were all wrong. ”Chase?” Locke asked, crouching down. The kid had a bloody nose, and Locke knew why. He had done that. ”Oh man… Here, let me help you,” Locke said. His body was still shaking and he didn’t know why, but a shaking body took the back seat to a bloody nose.

>> “Chase?”

The shapeshifter lifted his head, marginally, in response to the sound of his name. His heart was hammering in his chest, and the air was so thick that Chase couldn’t breathe. He held his hand up to his nose self-consciously, and his eyes swung back down.

“I-I… uh… I’m fine,” Chase stammered. Locke drew closer, crouching down, closing-in, and panic swelled in Chase’s chest.

>> “Oh man… Here, let me help you.”

Fight-or-flight mode was kicking in. Locke was too close, Chase was freaking-out. So much that a hiccup escaped him as he struggled for air. Tense limbs gave way to an anxious spasming in his legs, wavering between the compulsion to bolt and the inclination to stay.

“I have to go,” Chase mumbled hand still touched to his nose, eyes still averted, “’m r-really sorry.”

That was when the child bolted. It was what he was good at. Running. He had to get out of there, had to get away. He didn’t know what else to do beyond that. Locke probably hated him now. He couldn’t stay there, couldn’t stand to have the older boys’ eyes bearing down upon him. Chase retreated towards the stairs, and half-ran, half-stumbled down. He returned to the table, and grabbed his things, jamming his things in his bag and tossing an accusatory stare towards the offending pictures.

Whether or not Locke followed was beyond him, but Chase wasn’t going to stop and look. Chase quickly left the library, and didn’t pause until he was securely locked with in his dorm room. By now, the blood from his wounded nose had dribbled all over the back of his hand, and Chase sniffled it back, tossing his bag onto the floor, before bee-lining for the bathroom. He had to stop the bleeding. The nine-year-old ducked into the bathroom, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and holding it to his nose, surveying his reflection.

What had he done? What was wrong with him?