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The Mutant Problem (Xana x The Corsair)

Xanaphia

Xanaphia

Biblically Accurate Bitch
Joined
Sep 28, 2013
Location
The Lost City of Clitlantis
Breaking News: Mutant Rights Activist and Congressional Candidate Izzy Reyes Assassinated in Chicago

Chicago, IL – September 7, 2024 — In a shocking and tragic turn of events, Isobel "Izzy" Reyes, a prominent mutant rights activist and candidate for Congress, was assassinated this afternoon in downtown Chicago. Reyes, 34, was leaving a campaign event when shots rang out, fatally wounding her. Authorities have not yet identified the assailant, and investigations are underway.

Reyes, known for her optimistic vision of peaceful coexistence between mutants and humans, was the founder of Unity for All, an organization dedicated to bridging divides and promoting equality. Her death is expected to send shockwaves through the mutant community and beyond, with concerns rising about the potential for increased tensions.

Police are urging anyone with information to come forward, as they continue to search for the perpetrator. The nation now watches as the investigation unfolds, while supporters and activists mourn the loss of a powerful advocate for change.


The grey clouds and pounding rain suited Lila's mood better than the "85 and sunny" the news had forecast this morning. Beautiful late summer weather didn't feel right for such dark day.

"Name?"

"Lila Beaumont."

The detective scribbled down her answer in a notebook, "What is your role in the campaign?"

Lila answered the questions by rote, hardly hearing the detective over the patter of falling rain. Nothing felt real. She'd just talk to Izzy, this morning, coordinating a statement over the recent bombings in Gaza. Threading needle between condemning the genocide and attracting the attention of powerful political enemy. Always picking our battles. Until one question pulled her out of her haze.

"Are you a mutant?"

Lila's eyes narrowed. Lightning crashed nearby, close enough to shake the building as if nature herself objected to the question, and the detective flinched. "Why? Am I a suspect?"

"We can't rule anything out at this point."

Lila snickered, and outside, the winds picked up, whipping rain against the wide glass pane windows of the campaign headquarters. It would be so convenient if a mutant had done this, wouldn't it? It would prove what they all already believed. Mutants were inhuman monsters, incapable of residing peacefully in human society. They needed to be wiped out, eliminated.

"It doesn't make any sense for a mutant to have killed Izzy," Lila snarled, and wind clawed at the glass, making the building groan. More people, detectives and civilians alike took notice of the growing storm. "Izzy was the leading mutant equality activist in the country, and her run brought hope to the community. Shouldn't you be interrogating the human supremacists who send us hundreds of threats each day?" More lightning split the sky, each bolt as bright as staring in to the sun. Thunder followed immediately, rattling the building like a riot, demanding to be heard.

Lilah drew in a deep breath, trying to contain the storm that raged within –and outside– of her. "I need a minute. A drink of water." The detective nodded, and called over another member of the campaign. Lila padded towards the break room, to grab a water bottle from the fridge.

"Hey." A fellow campaign staffer – and mutant– Vivienne approached, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she continued "I know it's hard, but you need to pull yourself together."

"I know." Lila took a long drink of water, and the pounding rain receded to a gentle spray. "Can't properly mourn without flooding the damn city." Another drink, to calm down. Breathe, breathe. "If the extremist are so damn worried about protecting themselves, they should have taken a shot at me. Izzy wasn't even dangerous."

Vivienne let out a short, bitter laugh. "Izzy was extremely dangerous. She could make people listen. She could make them understand. And to the person who killed her, that was the most dangerous thing of all."
 
“They are, I mean, let’s be real here, they… we got a lot of work to do. They're poisoning the, the blood of our country, That's what they've done. Poisoned the blood of, of good Americans. I mean, that is, what happened in, in Chicago is just, it’s not right, they’re trying to silence people, just like they tried to silence me, that’s not good. But these mutes… what you gonna do? They poison mental institutions and prisons all over the world, not just America, but all over the world. They're coming into our country from Africa, from Asia, all over the world."
—Donald J. Trump, commenting on the murder of Isobel Reyes on The Matt Walsh Show

-*-

“Hey, you can’t go in there!” the officer called, heading for the man starting to duck under the police tape. He was big, the officer realized, well over six feet and built like a truck. “It’s an active crime scene!”

The man looked abashed as he drew back. “Sorry,” he replied, reaching into his suit coat. “I didn’t see you over there.” He opened a wallet, revealing a badge. “Special Agent Joseph Lloyd.”

The officer looked over the badge. “Mutant Response Task Force?”

“Yeah.” The big man tucked the wallet back into his coat. “The department was supposed to call ahead, let you all know we were coming.” He smiled. “I guess they didn’t?”

“Fuckin’ brass,” the officer breathed, loosening a little as the big man laughed in agreement. “Lemme check in with the Captain, see what’s going on.”

-*-

“Our prayers are with the family and loved ones of Ms. Reyes this morning, and with all Americans who are shaken by this senseless crime. Violence such as this has no place in our nation. We must all condemn this abhorrent act and do our part to ensure that it does not lead to more violence.”
—Official statement from the office of Vice-President Harris on the murder of Isobel Reyes

-*-

Bolt stared at his phone in disbelief. “Izzy’s dead?”

He’d just seen her last night. She’d been alive. Really alive, based on their ongoing argument about human and mutant relations. She’d always supported his work with mutant teenagers, but he had been much outspoken about mutants being “out and proud” and demanding their rights while she advocated working within the system to ensure them. It was an old argument, one that started when they’d met in college and continued right up until last night.

And now she was dead.

There was a flash and a pop, and sparks flew from his phone. Fuck. He hadn’t even realized how angry he was until he accidentally fried it. Izzy was dead. His first and oldest mutant friend was dead. And some fucking monkey was probably…

There was a knock at his door.

Drawing a deep breath, Bolt slowly exhaled and tried to calm himself. As a second knock resounded he brought the electricity dancing across his skin under control and absorbed it back into his body. Once he was in control, he answered the door and found two suit-wearing men that screamed plain-clothes detectives. Fuck.

“Mr. Montoya?” one of them said, using his human name.

“Bolt,” he corrected, bristling. Behind them, parked in front of his townhouse, was a black SWAT van.

“Detective Ron Hite,” the cop on the left said, flashing a badge. “Chicago Police Department. We have some questions for you.”

-*-

The campaign headquarters was a chaotic mess of bereaved and confused staffers and officers conducting an investigation. Joe stood in the midst of it all like a blonde monolith in a suit, taking it all in.

“Anyway,” Lieutenant Smith said, finishing his briefing, “we appreciate you guys showing up. We’re hauling in our prime suspect right now, and it could get violent.”

“Hm?” Joe turned to look at the Lieutenant. “How do you have a suspect already? Your men are still…”

“The alarms were shorted and the cameras were blown out.” The Lieutenant looked smug. “Only one guy in Chicago could do that, and he was seen fighting with the victim publically last night.” He produced a picture. “Derek ‘Bolt’ Montoya. A mutant supremest.”
 
Vivienne motioned with her eyes. "The big guy, there? He's a mutant."

Lila spared a sly glance. He was big, nearly a foot taller than her, and pure muscle. Unusual, but not outside human potential. "You can tell by looking?

"No– I'm reading his phone. Heavy encryption, he's important. Mutant Response Task Force."

Lila leaned against the counter, beside her. "A sign they are taking this seriously? Or are they just trying to placate us, with one of our own?" The last word was laced with venom, a clear disdain for one of their own who served with often hostile law enforcement.

"I don't know. They–" Vivienne stopped suddenly, eyes moving rapidly, reading screens only she could see. "They are taking someone in, for the assassination." Lila waited a moment, heart caught in her chest, hoping for news that wouldn't make everything even worse. Hopes that were dashed as Vivienne scoffed. "They are bring in Derek."

"Bolt?" Thunder cracked in the distance. Izzy pulled out her phone, "I knew these fuckers couldn't be trusted."

"What are you doing?" Vivienne asked, even though they both knew she could see the message Lila was sending out, calling on the campaign's mailing list to protests before the police station.

"We have rage on our side now. We need to use it."


Talia stopped short, as the police station came into view. "The protest is here?"

Erin was a step and a half ahead of her and still walking as she turned back. "Yeah, I guess we're taking it right to the police." She turned forward again, before realizing Talia's hesitation. "Wanna borrow a disguise?"

Talia considered it for a second, before shaking her head. "Nah, I wouldn't be able to keep it up for long." The concentration necessary to borrow another's powers was challenging on a good day. And today wasn't a good day. Not after what she'd seen. Not after what she'd felt, in staring into Izzy Reyes' eyes as life left her.

In those last moments, she was scared. And sad. A terror and sorrow that lingered in Talia, even after Izzy stopped breathing, terror and sorrow she recognized as not her solely own. It had been such a dramatic swing compared to how she felt at the end of rally, the excitement and optimism, believing truly that good things were possible. It burrowed into her gut, a gnawing, clawing. Defeated. Joining Erin in the protest was her own attempt to shake the feelings.

Already a large group gathered, chanting in unison "No justice, no peace!" Some already had makeshift signs, written on the back of Reyes for Congress signs. "Why are we protesting the police? Did they have something to do with it?"

"Nah, but they are trying to pin it on a mutant. Another activist, as if this could be swept under the rug as mutant on mutant crime."



Lila allowed herself a small smirk as she arrived at police station, proud of the crowd already gathered. Part of her wanted to join the protest, to turn her pain and rage into constructive action, but she couldn't risk giving into her emotions now. Instead she entered the police station, and approached the deputy at the desk. "Lila Beaumont, attorney for Bolt."

"Who?"

"Derek Montoya."
 
Drawing a deep breath, Joe fought for calm. “What. The. FUCK. Is. Wrong. With. You?”

“He’s the obvious suspect,” Lieutenant Smith replied.

Joe stared out the police chief’s window, watching the gathered protesters and their hand-lettered signs. Just a few dozen of them right now, but more were showing up. A decent percentage of them would also be mutants, which escalated the risk. “Not enough of a suspect to arrest him.”

“Look,” Captain Daniels sneered, “this is Chicago. We didn’t ask for the MRTF, and you don’t have any jurisdiction. So…”

Joe wheeled on Daniels, and watched him flinch as his fist pounded down on the desk. “Jurisdiction? You think this is about jurisdiction? This is about the unbelievably fucking stupid move of arresting a man…”

“Mutant,” Smith corrected with a sneer, and it took all of Joe’s self-control not to deck him at that moment.

“A man,” he continued, “on flimsy circumstantial evidence!” Smith started to say something - probably something bigoted - and Joe pushed through. “She was shot what, three times? Shot. So what’s your scenario here? Bolt uses his powers to fry the door lock, fry the cameras, and then he shoots the victim to try to hide who did it?”

Captain Daniels tried to say something, and Joe cut him off. “But you wanted to play jurisdiction? Right. This is now a MRTF case.”

“How do you figure?” Daniels spat back.

“USC 351(f),” Joe replied. “The federal government has jurisdiction over the investigation of the murder of any individual elected or appointed to federal office, or of anyone murdered while a candidate for that office.”

Just then, the chief’s door opened. “Hey. There’s a lawyer here for Montoya.”

Without a word, Joe left the room and followed the uniformed officer. In the lobby stood an attractive brunette, one he recognized from the crime scene and from the files he’d reviewed on his flight into Chicago. Lila Beaumont, legal advisor to Isobel Reyes’ campaign and a mutant with weather control powers.

“Mrs. Beaumont,” he said, extending his hand. “Special Agent Joseph Lloyd. I’ve just taken charge of the investigation into your employer’s murder.” His professional demeanor cracked for a moment. “We’ll find the sons of bitches who murdered her.”

Another pause. Another struggle for control. “But, for now? I assume you’d like to consult with your client?”

Bolt smiled, enjoying the look of discomfort on Detective Hite's face. It was clear the man didn't want to be in the same room with him. But what else could they do? The 'special' interrogation room they'd put him in - isolated, with thick walls - hadn't worked out. All of the monitoring abd communications and recording equipment had shorted out.

Funny, that.

The pigs had bitched about that a lot, accusing him of causing it. Which was true, but they couldn't prove it. No more than they could prove that he was the reason everyone's phone batteries were dead in the precinct. He'd been out and proud about his powers, but he'd never revealed the full extent of what he was capable of.

"So where were you last night from 9 pm to midnight?" Hite asked.

He grinned. "Waiting to talk to my lawyer." Then he stretched a little, feeling the shifting of the grounding wire wrapped around his ankle. It wasn't a bad idea, really. He had to give them credit for it. Not that it would matter if he wanted to cut loose; the cable wouldn't last a second under the voltage and amperage he could generate.

"What were you and Isobel Reyes fighting about?" Hite asked.

"My lawyer."

Hite sighed. "This will go a lot easier for you if you cooperate."

He smiled at that. "I wonder if my laser would agree." As he said it, the interrogation room door opened. A big blonde cop he didn't recognize stepped in and aside, revealing a brunette in a sharp suit. His smile turned into a grin. "Speaking of…"
 
The big blond guy from the campaign office –the mutant– was already at the station when she arrived. He was rather handsome, she admitted to herself in annoyance, as he offered a hand. She wasn't used to warm welcome from law enforcement. Not after her successful suit against Chicago PD over civil rights abuses a couple years back.

"Special Agent Joseph Lloyd. I've just taken charge of the investigation into your employer's murder." His professional demeanor cracked for a moment. "We'll find the sons of bitches who murdered her."

She didn't have a gift for lie detecting, but she did believe his sincerity. Wanted to believe that a fellow mutant would want justice in this case. "Does that mean you're releasing my client? So you can get back to finding the responsible party?"

"We still have questions for Mr. Montoya, and our 48 hour clock has just begun," Captain Daniels explained, not bothering to offer her a handshake. A 48 hour clock meant that Bolt hadn't been charged yet. Likely because they didn't have enough evidence.

"I assume you'd like to consult with your client?" Special agent Lloyd asked, seeming to have regained his composure. Another action she understood. Mutants could hardly risk showing their emotions around law enforcement, who could get scared at the drop of a hat, and plug a person with a dozen bullets in between deep breaths. She answered with a nod, and followed him back to the interrogation rooms. And further back yet, into a special, improvised area Lila assumed was reserved for mutants.

Bolt was in good spirits as she entered, at least. A relief, amidst the tension and despair. She returned his smile, and took a seat beside him, leaning in close to check on him. "How are you holding up?"

"If you don't mind, we'd like to get this questioning going," Captain Daniels insisted, arms crossed as he leaned against the opposite wall. "Mr. Montoya can no longer delay by insisting on waiting for you."

"I do mind, actually." Lila rebutted, placing her briefcase on the table and opening it. "I'd like to confer with my client in private, as he is entitled to attorney-client privilege. And he's perfectly capable of invoking the fifth until we've gotten that opportunity."

Whatever Captain Daniels was about to say was drowned out by the violent shaking of the ground, and the jerking of the rigid building in response. Seconds stretched out as the oscillations grew stronger, testing foundations not built to withstand it. The contents of her briefcase clattered to the floor and the police captain stared dagger at her. "This your doing? Your freaks out there, 'protesting?'" A sudden jolt sent him off balance, crashing into the east wall. "If you summoned the mutant freak doing this here, I'll have your ass in a cell next to them!"



The protest had grown quickly, easily as large as the campaign rally Talia had been at just hours ago. The police had moved quickly as well, suited up in Riot gear and pulling out their tear gas and pepper spray. Demanding dispersal, threats that were hardly audible over the chanting crowd. Rage permeated the throng, wanting a fight with cop, wanting an excuse to unleash the pent up aggression.

"We should go," Talia called to Erin, unable to hear herself. Erin certainly didn't, chanting in unison with the masses. Talia tried to grab her, but lost her balance as the earth shook beneath her, and collided instead. It wasn't just her, either. Protesters at front, standing their ground before a ling of riot shield toting officers, slammed into the police, who responded by shoving them back with their hard shields.

Still, the ground moved, stronger than before, tossing people back and forth, against the not activated police line trying to shove them back. Screams broke through the chanting, chaos reaching a boiling point. Beneath them all, the road groaned and cracked the unnatural shaking damaging the asphalt.

"It's got to be a mutant," Talia told Erin, both women fighting for balance against the quaking earth. Scanning the crowd, Talia caught sight of a large man, face covered with a black mask over his mouth and dark glasses. He wasn't tottering with the crowd, instead standing strong with his massive fists clenched together. Talia watched him a moment longer, feeling the way he sent shockwaves deep into the earth, until she too could harness this power. With one foot a step in front of the other, Talia found balance, grasping hands seeking to counter the shaking beneath them all.

Just as she felt the ground stilling, tear gas canisters exploding into the crowd, blinding her, and disrupting her concentration.
 
The sudden jolt sent Joe stumbling into the wall, bracing himself with his forearms. The impact wasn’t particularly dangerous but he still felt the faint flicker of his powers activating, translating the force into physical enhancement. Not much, but enough that he was able to maintain his balance with casual ease when the second shock hit.

"If you summoned the mutant freak doing this here,” snarled Captain Daniel’s, “I'll have your ass in a cell next to them!"

“Please,” Bolt sneered before Joe could reply. “If she’d wanted to do that she could have brought the mutant in with her.”

“He’s got a point,” Joe added. “And she’d hardly have put herself in danger of a collapsing building.” The ground and the building quaked again, accenting his point. “So. Rather than stand there spewing epithets with your thumb up your ass, I suggest you start evacuating the prisoners.” His eyes flicked to Bolt for an instant, then he headed for the door. “All of them.”

Outside the interrogation room, he stopped and started punching the cement wall. One blow after another, with all the force he could muster. This was harder than it sounded, because the first few blows sent shocks of pain through his hands and left bloody knuckle prints on the greenish paint. But by the fifth blow he was hardly noticing, and the tenth blow left a crater in the cement.

Probably the best he could manage at the moment.

The next quake was a slow roll to his heightened perception and reflexes, feeling more like a fun house ride than an earthquake. He navigated it carefully, arms extended for balance, then made his way up the stairs and through the slightly slow-motion mass of humanity in the Presinct house.

Outside was chaos. Riot police and staggering protesters and tear gas. Fuck. His powers did a lot for him, but he still had to breathe. Adapting to gas was slow and painful. But maybe he wouldn’t have to? Because over there was a masked man in black who, as he watched, smashed his fists into the ground and sent another shockwave rolling out.

Timing it, Joe started sprinting as the shockwave passed beneath him. He didn’t know exactly how fast he was going when he clotheslined the man, probably between 20 and 30 mph, but it took the unnamed mutant right off his feet. “Do yourself a favor,” he said, skidding to a halt and turning to face the prone man in black. “Just stay down.”
 
Lila flinched at the sound of Joe's fists hammering the cement, each blow sharp and sickening, echoing down the narrow hallway. She could feel it—his frustration, his anger—pulsing through the stagnant air like a second heartbeat. Every punch sent a jolt up her spine, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. And a wince, as she recognized the red smears on the green wall as blood from injured knuckles. But the wall did cave in, and Joe disappeared through it.

Meanwhile, one of the detectives removed something from Bolt's ankle and cuffed his hands in the front. Not that the handcuffs would stop bolt if he wanted to use his powers, but Lila knew he wouldn't do anything dumb. Not now, where he could be charge with a serious crime.

Despite the Detective's insistence, Lila followed them to the evacuation point for the prisoners, instead of joining the general public evacuation. Two dozen or so prisoners were lined up, all shackled in groups of four. To prevent them from escaping, Lila figured, but what would happen if they needed to move quickly, in case of another earthquake. These weren't convicts, after all, and they were still presumed innocent for what crime got them arrested.

The shaking stopped, with the same suddenness as it had started, enough that Lila's leg still shook, Heels might have better sold her as a professional, but they were hell for navigating the trembling ground. Not that she could take them off yet, either. From the looks of gather prisoners, they hadn't arrested any protesters yet. That would easily double or triple the numbers they held. And some of those people might need an attorney.



The noise of the crumbling building still echoed in Talia's ears as she stared at the officer in disbelief. Her heart raced, every muscle in her body tensing as his words sank in.

"You are under arrest. Don't resist."

Her chest tightened. "What?" she yelped, her voice sharp with panic. She forced herself to stay still, even though every instinct screamed at her to run. "I didn't do anything!"

The officer, tall and built like a linebacker, stepped forward, his expression hard as stone. "We both saw you using your powers to create that earthquake."

"That wasn't me!" Talia shouted, the words tumbling out in a rush. Her vision blurred with the pressure building behind her eyes. "I was trying to help!"

"I'm sure you were," he said with icy detachment, twisting her arms behind her back before she could protest further. The sharp snap of the handcuffs locking in place made her flinch.

As the cold steel dug into her wrists, Talia bit her lip to keep from screaming. Her mind raced, desperate to find a way out. The officer's grip was tight, controlling, as if he expected her to fight him every step of the way.

"I'm telling the truth!" She forced the words out through gritted teeth, even as the lump in her throat made it hard to breathe. She wanted to explain, to plead with him to believe her, but the quake had thrown everything into chaos, and no one cared about explanations. "It wasn't me. There was another—"

"I don't care," the officer interrupted coldly, starting to drag her toward the police van that had pulled up near the scene. "Save it for the judge."
 
“Are these really necessary?” Bolt asked, clinking the handcuffs for effect.

“Shut. Up,” the cop growled.

Outside, the station - the whole block - looked like a war zone. Shattered glass and masonry littered the street, and the sound of injured people and shouting filled the air. But what caught his eye was the riot cops shoving people - mutants and humans alike - into black vans. “All for the crime of exercising their rights,” he sneered.

“Shut. Up,” the cop growled again.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” he replied without any particular heat. Irritated, he watched the cop for a moment, observing the electrical flow of his biofield. It wouldn’t even take a snap of his fingers, and the pig would be on the ground in the throes of a seizure. Hell. He could end all of this right now. Just cut loose a little, and put a stop to the pigs shoving mutants and mutant supporters into the vans. Let the whole world see that they weren’t to be fucked with.

Of course, he’d also hang a bigger target on the back of every mutant by doing that. And most of them couldn’t do what he could do. He sighed. “Must grind your gears.”

“Shut. Up.” the cop growled again.

Bolt gestured over at the big Judas of a Fed, carrying back a black-clad figure. “Took a mutant to do what you couldn’t. Must really burn, knowing that.”

-*-

The black-clad mutant had chosen to stay down. Well, maybe chosen was the wrong word. He was entirely unconscious, a not uncommon side effect when Joe decided to hit someone. Still breathing, though.

Joe hefted him one-handed, with all the effort of lifting a bag of groceries, and slung him over his shoulder. Then he walked back to the damaged station, whistling and looking for an officer who didn’t have his hands full. “Hey,”

“What?” the officer asked.

“Cuff this guy.” Shifting his shoulder, Joe dropped him on the ground between them. “I don’t need him trying to sneak away if he wakes up, because we’ve got him on a number of federal and state offenses.” The cop gave him a quizzical look, then stopped to cuff him. “Domestic terrorism’s the big one, but I’m sure we can come up with others.”

Nodding, the cop rose back to his feet. “Sounds good. We’ve got his accomplice as well.”

“…accomplice?” Joe sounded nonplussed. “What?”

“Yeah. Over there.” The cop pointed out a young blonde woman being pushed into a van. “Same powers. We caught her reinforcing and amplifying the tremors.”
 
"You a lawyer?"

The question caught Lila off guard, blinking in surprise at the female officer who posed it. It didn't come with the accusatory tone she was used to. "Yes, why?"

The officer nodded, and looked around sharply. Oddly paranoid for someone who presumably had every right to be there. Unless she wasn't what she appeared. "You got to help my friend– she got arrested."

That was the piece she needed to figure out the puzzle. A shapeshifter, posing as a police officer to evade arrest in the aftermath of the protest. "Look, most of the protesters are going to get off without any charges. There wasn't widespread acts of destructive or harm. The fed is only going to be looking at the main perpetrator, who caused the quake."

"That's the thing, they think Talia caused the quake. But she didn't, she–"

Lila cut off the woman with a simple hand gesture, and urged her to follow further away. Once they were out of earshot, she set the volume low by speaking quietly, and purposely, "How do you know she wasn't causing the quake?"

The woman responded in a quiet voice, "She doesn't have that kind of power. She can only mimic other people, other powers. I know she was probably just trying to stop whoever did this."

Extremely valuable information, Lila considered. Also dangerous for this friend, Talia. Her legal advice was always to keep the nature and potency of one's powers to themselves. If law enforcement knew what you could do, they'd use it to pin any and every crime on you. Like they were doing to Bolt, right now.

"Here," she offered, slipping a business card towards the woman. "Leave me a voice mail when you get home; I'll need to follow up with you if I am going to be able to defend your friend. Be careful, and go straight home. You won't be able to help your friend if you get locked up beside her."



Talia sat in the cold, steel chair, her wrists cuffed tightly behind her. The faint sting of blood pooling under the metal cuffs was an irritant, but it was the least of her worries. She felt every eye in the room, from the occasional uniformed officer passing by to the ones who lingered, watching her like she was some sort of predator. She lowered her gaze to the floor, though her mind raced, circling through what had brought her here. They thought she'd been amplifying the quake, reinforcing it with her powers—an accusation that felt like some twisted joke. Talia had barely used her powers since she was a kid, her family's legacy of mutant hunting embedded so deeply in her that she'd spent years fearing her own reflection.

The room buzzed with voices outside her cell, low murmurs spiking with the occasional laugh or accusation. She braced herself, breathing in slow, steady cycles, though each inhale only seemed to tighten the coiled knot in her chest. This wasn't just a misunderstanding—it was an execution by public opinion. They wanted a face for their anger, someone to bear the weight of the broken glass, the screams, and the ruined buildings. Her fingers twitched reflexively, her muscles aching to mimic, to defend herself, but instead, she clenched her hands into fists.

How could she even defend herself? No one could see how she was trying to counteract the guy causing all the damage. And no one would ever believe her. No human anyways.

A pair of officers approached the cell, and motioned towards her, "Clarke, let's go."

She didn't argue as cuffed her, yet again. "What's going on?"

"Your lawyer wants to meet with you, before you're questioned." Talia bit the inside of her cheek inside of question him. Erin must have done that. She followed between two officers, led down a long hallway, past several rooms until they reached a concrete addition, thicker and more oppressive than the regular rooms. There was a women already in the room, dressed in a smart, black skirt suit, with light brown skin and thick brown curls cascading down her shoulders. She offered a sympathetic smile as the officers attached her handcuffs to the table at the middle of the room.

"Lila Beaumont, and I am not going to let them railroad you into a massive conviction. It doesn't matter what they charge you with, you still have rights. Starting with a presumption of innocence." Talia nodded, pushing down the rising anxiety churning at her core. This was bad, worse than she even expected.

"Your friend says you have the power to mimic other people's power?"

She nodded again, hoping that Lila really did believe in her innocence.

"Alright. The detective is going to come in and ask you some questions. I will be here the entire time, and I will let you know what to answer and when to stay silent. Before even that, I will say don't tell them anything about your powers. Don't confirm, don't deny, and don't try to explain. Anything you give them will be used against you. It won't get you off the hook here, and it may get you even more charges."

Whelp, that didn't sound great. But the police would have to see that she couldn't have done this if she could just explain how her powers worked. Instead she nodded again, "Okay."
 
It wasn’t a detective that walked in. It wasn’t even a police officer. It was a man in a Navy uniform, with a Captain’s rank insignia and a name plate that read “Wozniski”. He was followed by a squad of soldiers in battle dress carrying rifles, all of whom were watching Talia with a kind of nervous anticipation. “Prep her for transport,” the Captain stated.

-*-

“What?”

Joe had been on his way to MCC Chicago when the all came through. He’d been tempted to ignore it, since he didn’t like navigating traffic and talking at the same time, but it had come up as Marcus Clarke. It didn’t pay to ignore the boss.

“Yeah.” Marcus sounded strained. “It came from the Justice Department. They’re invoking 18 U.S.C. 113B to treat declare both of the mutants who attacked that police station to b me foreign combatants.”

“That’s bullshit!” Joe declared. “They’re…”

Marcus sighed. “They’re going to be transferred to the Pre-Trial Containment Facility at NAVSTA Great Lakes, Joe. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Fffffuuuuuck,” Joe breathed, trying not to crush the phone as his anger built.

“They’re building a case to try them both as foreign combatants, Joe,” Marcus continued. “If the Attorney General agrees, they’ll be facing a military tribunal.” Marcus paused. “I need eyes on this, Joe. I know you’re pissed off, but I need you keeping an eye on things.”
 
"18 U.S.C 113b?" Lila asked, almost certain she'd head them wrong. Almost certain she'd heard everything wrong today, starting with Izzy's assassination. "That would be a gross overreach against a US citizen–

"Mutant," Captain Wozniski corrected, a cold disdain in his tone.

"And a citizen!" Or are all of us having our citizenship revoked, for the crime of possessing powers? But that statement went unspoken, because getting locked up beside Talia wouldn't help the girl. She needed her lawyer, on the outside. "Citizenship can't be simply revoked due to being accused of a crime!There is still a presumption of innocence!" But the soldiers didn't heed her words, moving in silent efficiency to take Talia away.

"I have my orders, Ma'am. Take it up with the courts."

"Yeah, that's what they said at Nuremberg. You know you have a duty to disobey unlawful orders." But Capt Wozniski said nothing as he turned to leave, and Lila cursed under her breath as she gathered her things together. She need to file a Habeas petition, and see if she could find a judge willing to grant a stay before a military tribunal could be conducted.

Fuck, what was this world coming too?



The air was sharp with the scent of salt and metal as Talia stepped out of the armored transport. The cuffs around her wrists hummed faintly, suppressing her abilities and leaving a dull ache in her arms. Her boots scraped against the concrete as she was marched toward the steel doors of the Pre-Trial Containment Facility. The structure loomed like a fortress, all cold angles and impassive walls, its design more suited to holding prisoners of war than citizens awaiting trial. Soldiers lined the path, their faces stiff with unease, their rifles held just a little too tightly. Talia felt their eyes on her, watching her every move as if she might snap at any moment. The Captain who had accompanied her from Chicago said nothing, his footsteps steady as he led the procession inside.

Inside, the facility was sterile and unwelcoming, its harsh fluorescent lights casting an unforgiving glare on every surface. Talia was directed to stand on a platform surrounded by scanners, the hum of machinery filling the silence as her biometric data was logged. A voice over the intercom recited her charges in cold, mechanical tones, each word driving home the weight of what was happening: terrorism, destruction of property, conspiracy. She clenched her jaw but refused to let her fear show. Stripped of her belongings and her dignity, she was handed a gray jumpsuit and escorted to a solitary cell. The heavy door clanged shut behind her, sealing her in a room as impersonal and lifeless as the system that had brought her here. She sank onto the cot, the enormity of her situation pressing down like the walls themselves, and for the first time, allowed herself to exhale.
 
One day later…

“What do I think? I think every mutant in this country needs to be ready to fight.”

“Don’t you think that’s…”

“What? Extreme? The government is trying to strip us of our rights! They’re…”

Joe clicked off the radio, unable to listen to more. The interview with Derek Montoya - Bolt, he corrected himself - had gone viral, and he couldn’t quite take it. Because he was afraid it was true. Trump’s policies in his last term and his rhetoric during the campaign had demonized mutants…

A sharp cracking sound jolted his attention back to the present. His grip had tightened on the steering wheel until the fiberglass had given way, embedding is hand prints in the damaged material. Shit. Would the rental insurance cover that?

If it didn’t, did he care?

He tried to shake off the black mood as he pulled into the parking lot. He was a Federal Agent, damnit! Not some petty vandal! He needed to get himself under control. But it still required an act of will not o slam the door hard enough to shatter the windows when he got out.

Drawing a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his blonde hair and straightened his tie. Then, controlling his movements, he walked into the law office. It wasn’t much to look at. Well decorated, but clearly decorated on a budget. “Mutant civil rights attorney” didn’t make for rich lawyers, it seemed.

“May I help you?” asked the receptionist,

“Yeah. My name’s Joseph Lloyd. If she has time, I’d like to talk to Ms. Beaumont.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But… well, I’m supposed to be the lead investigator in the murder of Isobel Reyes. I’m hoping she can spare a few minutes.”
 
It hadn't taken more than two hours for Bolt to blow up on social media. Clips of his interview had already been spliced into TikToks and other short videos, with legions of people—mutants and allies alike—showing support for his honest and bold answers.

The interviewer had hesitated but pushed on. "But fighting—violence—couldn't that just escalate things? Don't you think it could make mutants look like the threat some people already believe we are?"

Bolt gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You don't get it, do you? They already see us as a threat. It doesn't matter how peaceful we are, how much we try to fit in, or play by their rules. They will never accept us. And if we don't stand up—if we don't fight back—they'll grind us into the dirt. Look at what they did to Isobel Reyes. How much more are we supposed to take before we say 'enough'?"

As his lawyer, Lila had advised against the interview. He'd been released without charges, but she wasn't convinced he was free and clear yet. Still, as a mutant and a friend, she was glad he'd done it. He had sparked a flame, his passionate, unapologetic words resonating across the country. Bolt had always been charismatic and self-assured, as long as she'd known him—since college—and those qualities had served him well in his youth outreach program. He had a knack for earning the trust of troubled kids, helping guide them toward better paths. It was no surprise those same skills were now capturing the nation's attention and inspiring the masses.

Online reactions had been overwhelmingly positive, with a growing call for Bolt to take the congressional seat Isobel had won, at least as a provisional appointee. Lila doubted the governor would have the guts to make that move, even if it would needle the hell out of Trump. The positive reaction didn't stop there. Memes about Bolt's electric smile and toned physique were flooding social media—a sentiment Lila couldn't deny. The slight crush she'd harbored for years could certainly attest to that. On the other hand, talking heads on the news dismissed his growing popularity as mere superficiality, trying to downplay his message and the rising resentment among mutants.

A light knock at the door pulled her away from the endless stream of news. She turned toward her assistant, who stood at the entrance. "There's a Joseph Lloyd here to speak with you."

With a nod, she rose from her desk. "Send him in."

Lila met Joe in the center of her office, extending her hand this time. "Special Agent Lloyd, isn't it? I'm glad to hear someone is still investigating Izzy's murder."

Even in her heels, he towered over her—a feature she found surprisingly attractive, though she had already decided she didn't like the mutant detective. Still, she could be polite. Professional.

"I don't mind answering questions," she said, "but I'm not sure how that might help. The initial interview I gave was pretty exhaustive, and I wasn't present at the event where Izzy was murdered."

"Well," she admitted after a moment, turning toward her filing cabinet, "I suppose there's something I can offer you." She retrieved a box labeled Threats and set it on her desk. "We passed off copies to the FBI as they came in but kept and cataloged every threat Izzy received. You're welcome to look through this, or I can get you a copy of the digital drive."
 
“A copy of the digital files would be better,” Joe answered, looking at the box. “I’d prefer the originals be kept safe until they’re needed. I…” His expression twisted into a bitter smile, and he sighed. “If they’re anything like my own collection, though, there’s probably not much to go on. A lot of Internet bigots who’d shit themselves if they saw a mutant in person.”

Glancing up at Lila, he snorted a laugh. “Pardon my French.”

Damn, if she wasn’t easy on the eyes. It would be so much nicer if this was a social call, just a friendly chat and an offer of a cup of coffee. But that wasn’t why he was here. “But… I’m afraid that’s not why I’m here. I…”

He glanced around, then made sure the office door was closed. “I’m not supposed to tell you this.” The words came out in a hushed rush, rapid fire and urgent. “Hell, I’m not even supposed to know this, but I know a few people, and… it’s your client. Your other client. Lila Clarke. They’re… the government is…”

Distantly, over the boiling anger and the pounding of the blood in his ears, he could hear the metal shriek as the doorknob slowly crushed in his grip. “They’re moving her. Tomorrow. To an undisclosed location.”

There was a sharp crack as the doorknob collapsed in his white-knuckled grip, wadding like tinfoil. “Tell me you know some…” he turned to face Lila once more, expression angry and desperate. “Some, I don’t know, some legal trick or something that can stop this! Because… because I think - no, I know - that she’s just going to… disappear.”

It was then that he seemed to notice the crushed doirknob, peering it with embarrassment as he opened his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing. “I… uhm… didn’t mean to do that.”
 
Joe spoke quietly, conspiratorially, drawing her closer as he closed the door tightly.

"Hell, I'm not even supposed to know this, but I know a few people, and… it's your client. Your other client. Talia Clarke. They're… the government is…"

"Yeah?" she asked, hand on his shoulder as he was still turned away from her. "What are they planning?"

"They're moving her. Tomorrow. To an undisclosed location."

"What?" This was bad. She hadn't been allowed to see Talia since she was moved. But she at least had confirmation that Talia was in custody at the Naval prison. But disappearing her, after declaring her an enemy combatant?

"Tell me you know some…" he turned to face Lila bodies nearly touching, face just inches from her own. "Some, I don't know, some legal trick or something that can stop this! Because… because I think - no, I know - that she's just going to… disappear."

"I mean… it's not like there is 'one simple trick" to protect her. I filed an emergency motion, a temporary restraining order, yesterday, but the judge gave the government 48 hours to file. And I imagine they are going to take every minute of that 48 hours before they respond, so they can do… Fuck!"

It was then that he seemed to notice the crushed doorknob, peering it with embarrassment as he opened his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled, cheeks flushing. "I… uhm… didn't mean to do that."

The doorknob was the least of her worries, right now. "I'll send you a bill," she offered dismissively, biting her lip as she scrambled through her legal knowledge for something, anything that could be done. Anything legal, because all that filled her mind were illegal schemes, plans to protect Talia, to save her. Maybe they could expose the government, somehow record the extraordinary rendition. "I might have an idea, or two, but… well, I suspect you don't, uh, want to know. Plausible deniability, and all that."
 
Something in Joe’s posture seemed to change. A slight squaring of his shoulders, as if bracing himself. Or, perhaps, resigning himself. “Plausible deniability?” he echoed, staring at the wad of brass-plated aluminum in his hand. Then he slowly squeezed it in his fist, watching the metal bulge between his fingers. “No.”

He turned to face Lila. “No,” he repeated, seemingly to himself. “You know what? Fuck plausible deniability. He met her gaze. “I grew up believing we were better than this. That the law was the law, and that everyone has the same rights regardless of who they are.”

Crumpling the increasingly unrecognizable doorknob like a wad of paper, he tossed it into the trash can beside Lila’s desk. “So, what are you thinking? And what can I do to help? Because these bastards are not getting away with this.”
 
"I grew up believing we were better than this. That the law was the law, and that everyone has the same rights regardless of who they are."

They weren't all the different, despite the way she'd immediately deemed him her enemy. She too had believed in the promise of the American justice system, that she could use it to fight for equality and civil rights.

"So, what are you thinking? And what can I do to help? Because these bastards are not getting away with this."

"You're serious?" Lila asked, trying to figure out how far she could trust him. But the hard steel in his grey spoke loud enough to convince her. "Alright, but if I am speak these plans out loud, I'm going to do it just once. I'll drive."


Lila stared out middle the distance, tracing the shape of the military prison as if she could see inside. Because she couldn't, she brought allies, Cypher and Bolt. "So, do you think you can break into the surveillance system from here?"

"Maybe." Cypher answered, staring out into the dark as her mind worked to find data she needed. She motioned with her head towards Bolt "So long as this one is careful. I can't read data off dead machines, after all."

"Bolt's just here to lend a hand to reaching their system. Or getting the signal out, if we're successful here."

"Right, we just need to find video evidence of mutants being mistreated or vanished, and spread that evidence to the people," Cypher recounted matter of factly. "So why is the fed joining us?"

Because she couldn't count on this plan going on without a hitch, she'd brought along Joe too. They just might need his powers, if things went terribly wrong. "In case things go to shit. Rather have him here with us and not need him than, well, you know."

Cypher regarded Joe once more, with cool eyes. "Fine."

The four of them sat in her car, watching, waiting. Cypher and Bolt in the front, where they could focus on breaking into the facility, through electric currents and digital signals. Lila sat beside Joe in the back, hoping they wouldn't have to rely on his powers. Or her own. "Any idea when they might try to move Talia? Or are we going to be here awhile?"
 
Bolt settled back in his seat, watching the flowing dance of electrons march along the high-tension power lines into the facility’s transformers. Watched the current downshift and spread, leaping and flowing iacross the prison and the grounds. “All right, Cypher.” His eyes shifted to her as he spoke, and he watched her body’s electrical field shimmer and sparkle as it interfaced with the electrical field of her laptop. “You ready?”

Her glittering face nodded, expression grim. He grinned back and reached out, finding the lower-level electromagnetic field of the data cables that connected the prison to the Internet. Then he placed his left hand on Cypher’s shoulder and gestured. In his mutant vision he saw the EM field grow a thin branch as he exerted his powers, stretching it until it connected to the laptop’s wireless router.

If they could have gotten closer, he knew, she wouldn’t have needed his help. And if all they wanted to do was fry computers and black the prison out, he wouldn’t have needed hers. But they needed both of them for this, both different but complimentary powers.

“I’m connected,” Cypher announced. “Just keep it stable.”

“Bet,” Bolt replied. He glanced at Talia and the suit in the rear-view mirror, observing the glow of their bio-electric fields. “So what do you do, Fed? What makes Talia think you’d be useful if things go wrong?”

The suit shrugged, a motion that looked like a continental plate shifting. Fuck, he’s big, Bolt thought again. “Well, I am a Federal Agent. If things go pear-shaped, I might be able to wave my badge and bluff us out.”

Bolt snorted, a sound of disgust and contempt. “If things go wrong enough that they come for us,” he sneered, “then that badge won’t mean shit.”

“True,” the suit replied. “Which is when I get out and open fire, so they shoot at me instead of the rest of you.”

“And then what?” Bolt sniggered. “Your corpse is a speed bump?”

“Oh, no,” the suit replied, as casual as if he was discussing the weather. “Then I stand up, regret wearing my nice suit, and throw a car at the helicopter chasing you.”
 
"You should leave any helicopters to Lila. We are probably going to need the car," Cypher remarked, cycling through security footage with casual ease. "But if you are offering to take the bullets for the team, I am not complaining."

Lila snorted, watching the faint glow of Cypher's screen reflected in her sharp eyes. The tension in the car was thick, but the hum of the equipment and the quiet crackle of distant electricity gave it an almost unbearable weight. The screen flickered, and a young woman in a cell appeared.

"Wait," Lila acknowledged, grapping Cypher's shoulder. "That's her."

"Alright. Let's see what they are going to do."


The same video feed flickered over screens of the night guards' screens. There weren't many prisoners in a military prison. At least, not yet.

Joining his fellow guard with a couple of coffees, he motioned towards the screen with his chin. "She's scheduled to be moved tonight."

"Tonight?" The second guard raised his eyes in question "Where are they moving her?"

First guard grinned nastily "Nowhere." Both man laughed, knowingly, before the second man snickered.

"Waste of a fine piece of ass. Mutant or not."

"Maybe we should take a crack at her first, then."


Distant footsteps echoed down the long, quiet corridors, stirring Talia from the light sleep she barely managed. Two guards approached her cell, their faces masked in icy indifference that chilled her. Just a check in, right?

"We need to prepare you for transport."

"Transport? Again?" Talia sat up. This wasn't good. She'd just gotten here, and now they were moving her in the middle of the night? She hadn't even gotten a second chance to see her lawyer, not since she arrived here. "Where am I going this time?"

"Follow orders, and we'll tell you what we can." One guard motioned her forward, while the other prepared to unlock the cell. "Come over here, face me and slid your hands through the bars."

Even if she wanted to resist, what could she do? Her powers were useless while she didn't have another mutant nearby to mimic. With a silent exhale she moved into position, sliding her hands out to be handcuffed outside the bars. Once she was secured, the cell door opened, and one guard stepped inside.

"We're going to search you, before you're transported."

"They searched me when I got here, and it wasn't even 24 hours ago." Neither guard responded, but the one within the cell began checking her arms and sleeves for whatever. "Don't I at least get a woman to do this?"

"No female guards available at the moment." The guard before her explained, moving his search towards her shoulders and chest. Talia screwed her eyes shut. This wasn't standard procedure, was it? Another command came from behind her, "Spread your legs."

Hands tightened into fists. "Fuck you."

"That's the plan," one man explained while the other chuckled. The sound awoke a rage in her, awoke a long simmering fury. Even without powers, she had to do something. So when he tried to kick her ankles apart she struck, striking his shin with her heel. Her handcuffs jangled against the bars, until the other guard, the one still outside the cell, grabbed the cuffs and yanked her forward, until she struck the steel bars.

"You sure you want to fight back now, bitch? Because I don't mind breaking your arms first, before we each fuck you."

The rage escaped in a frustrated cry of surrender, Talia just barely able to hold back her tears as she relaxed, fractionally, until the guard behind pulled out her hips and dragged down her pants.


Everyone in the car sat frozen, their eyes riveted on the security footage. The tension coiled in every muscle, sinking into the silence like a living thing. Finally, Lila broke it, her voice sharp and bitter. "Fuck."

"We're not… we're not just going to sit here and watch, are we?" Cypher demanded, snapping her head toward the others. Her voice cracked, panic creeping into her normally sharp tone. "We're not going to just let that happen to her, right?"

Lila rubbed her temples, trying to think past the noise in her head—the right answer colliding with the practical one. "And what the hell are we supposed to do, Cypher? Break into a military prison and pull her out?"

And maybe that was why this was a terrible fucking plan. What exactly had they thought they'd find? What sort of abuse would be bad enough to sway public opinion but still tolerable enough for them to stomach just watching? The sick irony hit her like a punch to the gut. Because, really, if it was bad enough to record, wasn't it bad enough to act?

"I can get you in," Cypher confirmed, voice brittle and controlled.

"Cypher–"

"I can get you in, Bolt can blow every last camera and electric lock, and the fed here can smash through the concrete. We can get her out."

"Fuck," Lila repeated, knowing it the worst and only course of action. "I better go in too, then. After all that, she might not feel comfortable escaping with two men. She'll need someone she recognizes to know she's safe."
 
“Motherfuckers,” Bolt snarled, watching the screen. “Yeah, I can blow the whole system. Bring the wrath of fucking god down on them.” He nodded as Talia remarked that she should go to, hearing but not registering as a car door opened. “All right, let’s…”

There was a gunshot and a bitten off cry of pain.

Bolt whipped his head around. The suit was standing outside the car, pistol in hand, blood streaming from a gut wound. As he watched, the suit gritted his teeth as shot himself in the thigh. Once, twice, three times before his leg gave out. “The fuck?” Bolt yelled, leaping out of the car.

The suit fired again, blasting a crease in his left thigh. Again. Again. This time, the bullet didn’t penetrate his skin. “What the fuck are you doing?” Bolt shouted.

The suit carefully pushed himself up off the ground, moving like a man unsure of his footing. His shirt and pants were soaked with blood, but there was no sign of the bullet wounds. “Powering up,” he replied, voice cold. He nodded at he prison. “Cypher said she can get us in, right?”

“Right…” Bolt replied, hesitant.

“Then let’s fucking do this,” the suit replied.

Bolt grinned. “Let’s,” he laughed, electricity coruscating over his body and arcing into the ground. Rising into the air, his gaze followed the flow of the high tension lines to the prison’s transformers. “We in, Cypher? Because I’m ready to fuck them up.”
 
Bolt's laughter echoed in her ears as he surged into the air, crackling with energy that lit up the dark like a thunderstorm come to life. Lila watched him for a moment, her jaw tightening. He made it look so easy—like his powers were just another muscle, something he could flex at will without a second thought.

He believed she could use her power to fly as well, but she wasn't confident. Her powers were harder to control than his, and so much more destructive. She just tried not to use them, as much as she could.

Fuck, but walking into the military prison without powers, or even a gun, made her heart pound and her stomach knot. "I'll be on comms," Lila decided, pushing her blue tooth receiver into her ear. Cypher could sync with it, without her even needing to use a phone. A bit of preparation that made her feel fractionally more confident.

"I'm in control of the security system," Cypher confirmed. "We have 25 minutes before an automated security loops detects my intrusion."

"Right then, let's move."

The air felt too still, too quiet, as Lila, Bolt, and Joe made their way toward the looming silhouette of the military prison. The perimeter lights cast harsh, unflinching beams across the open yard, illuminating patches of razor wire and metal fences. Lila's stomach churned as her boots crunched against the gravel path. Every sound felt too loud, every movement a potential signal to the guards that they were coming. She forced herself to focus on the mission, but the knot of tension in her chest refused to untangle.

"You good?" Bolt asked, sparing her a glance as arcs of electricity flickered faintly along his fingertips, betraying his readiness to unleash chaos.

"Yeah," she lied, keeping her voice steady. In truth, her nerves were fraying at the edges. She could feel the storm building inside her, like static pressing against her skin, begging for release.

Joe, calm and clinical, walked just ahead of them. His blood-soaked shirt clung to him, a macabre badge of his earlier "preparation." He moved with precision, his sharp gaze sweeping over the fences and guard towers. He looked to her, expectantly.

"Do we have an opening?" Lila murmured into the comm.

"Give me two minutes to loop security footage."

"Right," Lila acknowledged, her voice steady despite the crackling tension beneath her skin. Drawing a deep breath, she focused and called on her powers, pulling moisture into the air. A light fog began to gather, thickening into a dense, heavy mist that would cloak their escape. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now. She didn't dare push her limits, not with her nerves wound this tight. "Alright, we're good, but stick to the shadows."
 
“Right,” Joe confirmed, eying the fence. About… twenty feet? Yeah, including the concertina wire. He turned back to Lila and stepped close. “Hang on,” he advised, lifting her into a carry. Then he crouched, and jumped.

There was a sharp, soft sound of crushing pavement and then he soared upwards, feeling the acceleration push Lila into his arms and against his chest. Almost before he could register how nice she felt, they reached the peak of his leap and were in a moment of free fall before his feet hit the grounds inside the fence. His knees flexed to absorb the impact, and he set her back in her feet as he rose.

A moment later Bolt joined them, drifting up and over the fence to lightly touch down. “Not bad,” he muttered, sounding impressed despite himself. “Hellova jump.”

Joe nodded absently, scanning the grounds. “There,” he said, pointing at one of the doors the prisoners would use to enter the yard. It had no cover, of course. That would have made bad security. “Here’s hoping that two minute loop holds up.”

“It will,” Bolt insisted as the three of them looked towards the door. “She can make computers dance and do tricks. It’ll work.”

The door was locked, of course. “Can she open it?” Joe asked Lila as he cracked his knuckles. “Or do I need to?”
 
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