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The seconds waiting for a reply felt like anxious hours. Nessa was unsure if she would be more scared for herself or Booker if she really was at own, but fortunately, she was not. Booker did not sound like he was in the best condition, but knowing he was alive banished some of her darker worries. Now she could focus on the worries on her plate.

She had no clue where she was or what happened to them. They were knocked out and taken. It was the opening premise to a movie, not what she should be doing with her day off. ”I don’t know what’s going on; I’m blindfolded. Can you see?” The words came out slowly. Her head was still foggy from whatever was used to knock her out. She hated being so unaware of her surroundings. She couldn’t mind read and she could not see. Not that she knew if there was anyone to read.

That realization sank in; she did not know who was in there with them. ”Is anyone else here? What do you want from us?” The young woman called out, possibly calling to an empty room.

Frustrated, Nessa tipped herself over, trying to press her head against the cool flooring. She could not know how well the blindfold was secured on her. If she was really lucky, maybe she could loosen it or move it off one of her eyes. ”Book, are you okay? Did they hurt you?” She was ready to start hating someone, but she had no inkling of who the “they” in their situation was.

Vanessa’s attention was stubbornly checking on the people at the other table. It was probably rude, but something just struck her as off. It would put her mind at ease if she could get eye-to-eye contact and catch a glimpse in their heads. It was invasive, but it undeniably granted peace of mind to see someone’s intentions.

She missed the two people walking out of the shop because she was pre-occupied. They were the ones who walked to the Bookman table. Before she could react, she felt a prick on her neck. Her vision quickly darkened as she saw something similar happening to Booker. The two at their own table were getting up, but they were already fuzzy black blobs in Nessa’s vision by that point. She was out.

---

Eventually Nessa stirred, feeling like she was suffering the most painful hangover of her life. What happened to her? Who were those people at the ice cream shop? She tried to figure out what she could right away.

Movement was restricted. Her arms were behind her back, and in some way, she was tied by her wrists. She also awoke with her side against a cool surface. Not stone; it felt like something artificial against her arm. She wanted to know more, but she found herself pretty limited, which was concerning: she could not see.

When she felt her eyes open, the darkness was a shot of panic through her. Was she somehow blinded? Were her eyes still in her head? She opened and closed her eyes rapidly, and it hit her—her lashes were brushing against something. She was blindfolded. That was bad, but infinitely better than the other possibilities.

She needed to figure out where she was, and why she was taken. Except it was not just her, she realized with a pit in her stomach. ”Booker? Booker, are you here?” she called out anxiously, unable to see her surroundings as she awkwardly sat up.

Congrats on the hooman, Espi!

Vanessa was imperfect, just like anyone else, but she did strive to be good. She did her best to keep to pescatarianism, she advocated for womens’ rights and gay rights, while trying to not be a total bitch to men and straight folk who were not actively shouting at her. Now that she was publicly entering two new minority roles, she was inclined to seek out the challenge and shoulder burdens, because that was what she saw as the logical way to advocate for her causes.

In moments like this, it was good to have her brother around. She always saw Booker as the one who could see the big picture and take a step back, seeing the forest for the trees, while Vanessa was firmly entrenched in the thick of things, trying to chop down one tree at a time. Booker provided her with a healthy amount of perspective, and at times, she was sorely lacking in that.

>> ”’Let us all be brave enough to die the death of a martyr, but let no one lust for martyrdom…’ -- Gandhi. You’ve taken your stand, Nessa. And you’ll always stand for those who need to be stood up for...but that doesn’t mean you need to keep subjecting yourself to that much hate. They wouldn’t want that...Gina wouldn’t want that… and your brother doesn’t want that.”

He was right. Of course he was; he had an annoying habit of being right. In this instance, she would let it pass. She felt guilty for not doing more sooner and not “taking her lumps,” but the people who really cared about and supported her were not looking for her to even up some suffering score. ”I guess there are better ways to celebrate being part of a community than seeking out the people who are mad I’m in it.” Why focus on the hate when she could focus on the good?

Vanessa took a big bite of her ice cream and let it melt on her tongue before she finally continued. ”Okay. When I go back, I’ll close out that video. I’ll go onto some community message boards instead; look for the love instead of the hate.” Trans, gay, and mutant community websites were usually good at filtering out the trolls and the hate. This was likely her healthiest plan since uploading her video.

The younger sister nudged Booker’s shoulder with her own. ”Thanks. With little trips like this, people are going to start thinking you care about me.”

Vanessa was, at her core, an introvert. It made her choice of profession a surprise to most people, but to her, it made sense. She worked with a group of people she was familiar with and comfortable with, making hanging out with them easier than most people. She had large exposure to other people, but she only interacted with the public “directly” when The POW Block Party attended conventions.

In contrast to the telepath, Gina was a perfect example of an extrovert, at least in Nessa’s eyes. She was open and friendly, and fit in easily with most conversations. With a mutation like hers, no one would have blamed her for being picky with the people she talked to or let in; people could be unfair to visible mutants. Even with all that, Gina was the kind of person people just naturally liked; a social butterfly who traded her butterfly wings for gargoyle wings.

The guys on the couch did not miss a beat with someone new around to interact with. They were integrating her into the video, and Nessa loved them for that. In many ways, it was like she had a surplus of big brothers, and knowing they liked her girlfriend was comforting. Gina played her role, claiming her not-so-secret weapon status, though Nessa could see she was just having fun with the banter. That made her happy.

“Fair point,” David agreed, nodding sagely. He was usually the one to come up with obscure philosophical questions about non-philosophical topics, so this argument seemed to please him. “Okay, I’m co-opting your girlfriend to train her in the ways of gaming.”

“How well can someone learn to play from the worst gamer we know?” Vince asked, prompting indignant and intelligible bird noises of disgust from David.

“Hey guys,” Dori sighed, “if you’re done, we’ve been on the minigame screen for half a minute.”

Nessa finally broke contact from her girlfriend’s gorgeous eyes to notice he hair-changing mutant was right. ”Oh, how about that. Oh damn, crack hands,” she groaned. It was a style of minigame popular with the series: rather than platforming or maze solving or anything like that, this was purely a game where you pressed A as many times as humanly possible in the time limit. Not Nessa’s most dominant kind of game, but no one on the couch today was an expert. ”Kiss for luck?” Nessa asked, looking back up to Gina to hopefully receive her kiss.

“Cheater.”

”Bite me, Vince.”

The members of the couch watched as the screen phased in to show a balloon attached to a pump. Each of the four characters got their own balloon and would have to pump it up faster than the others. The game chimed. “Ready? Go!”

And then the button mashing was on. The four players furiously hit the button, their faces clearly straining. As the balloons neared full status, all four had gone from humming to yelling as though they were in an anime trying to ascend to a new power level.

Pop!

The game ended and they all slumped back, relaxing, Nessa resting her head against Gina’s chest as Dori loudly proclaimed his success. The game gave him a coin lead, though Nessa still had one more star, so the game would come down to the bonus awards.

Nessa leaned up toward Gina’s ear, specifically the one not seen by the camera, so she could whisper, ”So sorry about the hold up, we’re almost done. Hope we’re not being boring at least.” And then, because she couldn’t help herself and the camera couldn’t see, Nessa nibbled lightly on Gina’s earlobe before pulling away. She really did miss her beautiful girlfriend.

“Oy, no canoodling on the couch.”

”Shove it, I do what I want.” Nessa boasted as the characters took the end of game stage for awards.

I love this little down and out petty thief <3 Wonderful human, Mouse!

Even when growing up, Nessa was a thin kid who could never match her brother when natural sibling squabbles occurred. Sure, she was scrappy, but he was older and bigger and stronger, and the bastard knew how to throw that weight around. She put up a fight as best she could, but he was committed to taking her out of the apartment, so that was evidently what was going to happen.

Booker was merciful enough to grab Nessa jeans on the way out and she snagged them from the air before they were out of reach. They walked down the hall—well, he did, at least. Booker engaged with their neighbors while Nessa continued to pout from his shoulder. She was not going to interact with the neighbors anyway, since that was not the person she was, but being lugged around was a decent excuse for ignoring them, at least.

They finally made it to the elevator and Nessa was on her feet, hastily pulling on her jeans, shimmying them past her hips and over her pajama shorts. That was one problem handled, at least, leaving the matter of how to best kill her brother.

Booker tried to give her the one-word vague answer, and she responded by glaring daggers at him. He was more infuriating because any incidental eye contact would not help with him, since he was a jerk who decided to be born with a perfect counter to her powers. She awaited his real answer impatiently, and he did not disappoint.

It took a few seconds to register his answer, along with his reminder that she was entirely unplugged. Slowly, it hit Nessa what her brother was doing. She rolled her eyes, but her pout dissolved into a slight smile. ”We also don’t have my wallet, so this better at least be your treat. Plus, I don’t have my ID, so there goes any hope of buying myself some rum raisin.” Not that she would, obviously. Blech.

She was not ready to talk about why he pulled her from her computer, but after some ice cream, that would probably change.