Battle of the Mind (Jake)

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan stood at the top of the attic steps and knocked on the door to Jake's bedroom without much success.

"Jake, come on, open up. We need to talk."

He heard the clock radio on the other side of the door blasting classic rock louder than its underpowered speakers were intended to play, but he couldn't hear anything else. It had occurred to him that maybe Jake had gone for a walk with his alarm set for noon by accident. But considering the events of yesterday, even that was concerning.

He gave the door another solid pound. "Jake! Will you at least turn off that damn radio?"

[Jacob Foley]

There's a certain power in silence, and Jake mused on this as he listened to Aidan's voice on the other side of his door. From his bed he watched a sunlit haze drift overhead, Robert Plant crooned on the radio, and he rolled a worn baseball between his fingers. The door shuddered again. It looked like Aidan would not be denied and Jake stirred from his mangled bedsheets. His head pounded, a sharp reminder of his midnight sins, and as an afterthought, he stowed an empty bottle of Jack Daniels under his pillow.

Finally, the door crept open and the electric thrum of Led Zeppelin sailed out. The look on Aidan's face made him instantly weary.

"It's Black Dog, Aidan. Black Dog."

[Aidan Fox]

"Well, through the floorboards, it sounds more like a sick dog."

Aidan looked past Jake to quickly take stock of the room. It always had an air of bachelorly disarray that any twenty-something male could identify with, but today it seemed to have an extra layer of chaos thrown over just about every surface.

"Mind if I come in?"

[Jacob Foley]

After a telling moment of hesitation, Jake retreated sluggishly to his bed, and crashed. Behind him, he heard Aidan shut the door. They only spoke behind closed doors these days. He stretched out and blindly turned off the radio, leaving only the sound of the groaning floorboards between them.

"Go on," he muttered thickly through his hands, "What's the bad news?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan gave a humorless laugh. "You want to narrow that down?"

There was a chair over by the desk. He pulled it out, careful not to hit the guitar lying nearby, brushed the crumpled laundry off onto the floor, and took a seat facing Jake.

"I heard about what happened last night," Aidan said. "I was out scouting with Slim and Marano, and they didn't have a clue what was going down. Sorry I wasn't there to help."

[Jacob Foley]

"Yeah, me too."

Again, he found the same spot on the ceiling and stared with heavy eyes. His thoughts strayed to the events of the previous night; the chance encounter with Jane, cars full of punk gangbangers, the thunder of gunshots and the subsequent arrival of Geryon and a Vipul army. And the evening had started out so well - but that felt like weeks ago. It's funny how the human mind so reliably dwells on everthing negative, first and foremost.

"I guess we have our self-appointed guardian angels to thank for that one. Remind me to send them flowers."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Riding around with La Raza is one thing. But the Brotherhood... I'm not ready to cross that line. Still, they did us a favor. With any luck, the Elevens will think twice before trying to hit us again."

He glanced up at Jake, and both knew exactly how hollow that sounded.

"Has Tess talked to you yet?" Aidan didn't see any light of recognition on Jake's face, so he went on. "She's trying to organize the neighborhood watch against gangs like La Raza. We're going to have to step lightly for a while."

[Jacob Foley]

Jake gave a soft snort of laughter before Aidan could finish talking. It grew in his belly until he was shaking from his amusement. Perhaps it was the straw that broke the camel's back, or maybe he was just drunk with fatigue; either way, on top of their cloak-and-dagger dealings and the shadow of government authorities looming over them while their home and family was embroiled in a fierce gang war, they were now faced with a new threat living under the very same roof as them - laughter felt like the only sane reaction.

"Figures," he said at last, and sighed.

"We should probably join the neighbourhood watch. You know, for the sake of appearances. But then I don't really give a fuck about Tess and her newfound moral highground."

For the first time, he tore his gaze from the ceiling and looked at Aidan with a measure of expectancy:

"And in other news?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan's face became grim. "There was a reason I was scouting with La Raza last night. We were checking up on a major Tres Once operation in West Carson. It's an abandoned factory, and they've got it sealed up like a maximum-security prison. Twenty to thirty armed guards carrying assault weapons and shotguns. There are cars moving in and out every day, and Marano picked up radio chatter like an Air Force control tower. It's huge, Jake, the biggest we've seen yet."

[Jacob Foley]

It was exactly what Jake didn't want to hear. His jaw locked and he closed his eyes in a bid to keep his anger at bay, he could almost feel it creeping up his spine and scratching at his neck. Aidan was just the messenger, he reminded himself.

"It sounds like a deathtrap. Can't you just... napalm the place?"

[Aidan Fox]

"Believe me, I'd love to," Aidan said. "Unfortunately, even if I could get close enough, it'd be like leaving my personal signature. And that's not even the half of it."

He paused and turned an ear toward the door, but there was no activity on the steps, and voices didn't carry well through the floorboards.

"The Elevens have been trafficking a new kind of drug from South America, something called Nectar. It's a mild hallucinogen for humans, but they're not the target. We are."

He bounced his fists together, a clear sign of nerves from someone who usually didn't show it.

"Nectar makes a mutants' abilities go out of control for anything up to an hour, depending on the dose. Once the high wears off, assuming you survive, you're disoriented and powerless for hours. I've seen it. It's one of the scariest damn things I've ever seen."

[Jacob Foley]

"You're shittin' me," he said immediately, his face creased with concern, and then a note of suspicion crept into his voice:

"Wait a minute. How long have you known about this?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan didn't flinch in the face of his friend's accusatory tone. "I knew about the drug, not that the Elevens were carrying it," he said. "Pedro was tipped off by an informant a few days ago, and he asked me yesterday what I knew about it. Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it.

"There aren't a lot of buyers for something like Nectar in Los Angeles. You can dilute it and use it recreationally, but I don't think the Elevens are trying to open a market with mutants. That leaves hospitals and research labs, and the good ones don't buy drugs from street gangs. My guess is they've cut a deal with the Jericho Center."

[Jacob Foley]

"Aidan, did you come here to depress me?" Jake asked, deadpan, and gave a nod, "You did, didn't you? You thought you would just mosey on upstairs, knock my door down, and give me a friendly reminder of just how shit everything is - thanks, buddy! Here's a tip, most people start their day with a nice breakfast, and this can be anything, you know - cereal, scrambled eggs, pancakes and syrup, or even a couple of fuckin' poptarts. You might wanna give that a try next time."

And with an incredulous glare, Jake stretched for his guitar and cradled it in his lap. He then proceeded to pluck tenderly at the strings, oblivious to the presence of his friend.

[Aidan Fox]

"Yeah, well, most people have breakfast sometime before two in the afternoon," Aidan replied, irritated. "I thought you wanted me to keep you up to speed."

[Jacob Foley]

"Well, it's gettin' a little old hat," he said over a sequence of low chords, his voice was clipped and unnaturally calm, "Can't we talk about the weather or the Steelers or something?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan opened his mouth for another retort, but he took another look at the strangely detached expression on Jake's face and thought better of it.

"Okay," he said. "Ziggy Hood's a beast. Mike Wallace could be the steal of the draft. Super Bowl hangover kicks 'em in the teeth, and the Saints win it all."

[Jacob Foley]

"The Saints?" he repeated, "Have you been drinking?"

The chords changed suddenly and from his guitar Jake beckoned nostalgic notes to settle the churning in his stomach. He bit his lip and bobbed his head in the pretense, and inspired by Aidan's words, sang:

"Ziggy played guitar, jamming good with Weird and Gilly, and the Spiders from Mars. He played it left hand but made it too far-"

The music suddenly stopped, and Jake looked to Aidan with curiosity.

"What about Bowie? Do you like David Bowie, Aidan?"

[Aidan Fox]

"I haven't heard that much of his stuff, to be honest," Aidan said sheepishly.

[Jacob Foley]

"That's a shame, man. You don't know what you're missing."

He cast his gaze downwards and considered his guitar for a moment, then crossed his legs and sat upright on the bed. Then one-by-one he started adjusting the strings at the headstock.

"Years ago, he wrote a song called Eight Line Poem. One of my favourites. It's fairly simply and it sounds a little sad but I don't know what it's about, and I don't want to know either, because when I hear it-"

He hesitated, an open hand grasping at the air to find purchase on something intangible, "It has this effect, like everything just slows down for a moment, and nothing matters. And you sink into it, finding your own little corner of peace and quiet, for just a couple of minutes. I love that."

The edge of his mouth curled, and he looked up to Aidan, "I reckon we could do with our own Eight Line Poem."

[Aidan Fox]

"Yeah," Aidan replied, "yeah, we could."

Just to hear Jake describe it was almost enough to get there. The House was deep into its own brand of Sunday afternoon tranquility - there was birdsong floating in through the open window, and from the floors below the noises of the kids moving around were muted and unhurried. The washer and dryer droned on, someone was watching cartoons in the big second-floor bedroom, and the city traffic was a distant wall of white noise. These moments were getting rarer all the time - they had to be savored.

Aidan took a mind-clearing breath and started where he should've started five minutes ago. "So how've you been doing, man? You didn't come downstairs, and I got worried."

[Jacob Foley]

"Yeah, I didn't get much sleep," he explained, dragging a hand over his rubbery features. Then he paused, taking a moment to think, and corrected himself, "I didn't sleep."

On cue, he unleashed a mighty yawn, and afterwards, his head flopped lazily against the fretboard of his upturned guitar. Hugging it to his chest, he ran a finger up and down the length of the sixth string so it released a sequence of eerie screeches. His eyes widened.

"I wonder when the paranoia kicks in?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan frowned. Human or mutant, you couldn't just joke away sleeplessness.

"A bad night?" he asked. Of course, in the general sense, that went without saying, but a bad day, a bad night, a bad week had their own semantic range for Jake and his budding telepathy.

[Jacob Foley]

"A long night. My brain is a longwave reciever without an off switch."

There was defeat in his voice, and a distant look in his eyes as he recalled the myriad disjointed horrors which haunted him in the night. He was resigned to his fate, and never spoke of the things he saw, for it was the lives of others and he was nothing but an unwilling voyeur in their private misery. He gave Aidan a thin smile.

"I can catch up tonight, providing the day remains free of drive-by shootings. So, what about you?"

[Aidan Fox]

Something about that tone of resignation didn't sit well with Aidan.

"I've been worse," he said. "Got ripped at the garage for taking it easy the past few days, so I might need to take a vacation day to recover from my vacation days, if you know what I mean."

Aidan regarded Jake pensively. "There weren't any other psychics in Anna's family, were there? You basically had to figure it out yourself?"

[Jacob Foley]

"Pretty much," he answered, somewhat stumped by the reference to Anna's family, "And it didn't help that I missed all of my Telepathics Annonymous meetings, too."

He gave a shrug, "Most people thought I was just another delincuente loco."

[Aidan Fox]

"I was lucky," Aidan said. "I knew an older pyrokinetic when I was growing up, otherwise there's no telling how much property I'd have burned down."

Aidan didn't give up details of his past lightly. By his standards, that was an epiphany.

"I've known a lot of mutants, Jake, and I've learned things from every one of them. I've known a couple psychics, too. Maybe..." He took a deep breath, fully realizing he was treading on uncertain ground here. "Maybe we could figure something out together."

[Jacob Foley]

"What?" Jake said, dumbfounded.

Whenever Aidan divulged even a trickle of information about his past, Jake was all ears, but this was a veritable downpour, and it left him stunned. For a principled telepath, being around someone as private and secretive as Aidan was real torture, and there was no small degree of trust involved in such a relationship. And yet, at this hopeful revelation, an angry question troubled his thoughts.

"Why didn't you-" he froze mid-sentence, lock-jawed, then proceeded in a softer tone, "Do you know how to make it stop?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan turned up his hands - a little gesture that was half-shrug, half-concession. "Everyone's different. I didn't want to make any presumptions. I can tell you what I know, but it's a little like a blind man trying to teach you to paint."

One look told him his qualification hadn't dampened Jake's interest any.

"So, first off... what have you tried already?"

[Jacob Foley]

"Oh, umm, let's see. I've tried keeping a clear head - meditation, breathing exercises, even Yoga, but that just hurt my ass. I've tried shutting it off with some distracting music, reading, and television. I drink to excess sometimes. Drugs. Fucking... burying my head in cold water. They even tried out one of those sensory deprivation tanks, you know?"

The guitar was laid to rest and Jake shuffled to the edge of the bed so he was facing Aidan, giving him his full attention. It already reminded him of his therapy sessions, except with Aidan there was no discomfort. No knot in his belly. No shallow sympathies or sanctimonious platitudes. Just friends, talking, and the creeping tension that siezed him overnight slowly receded.

"Though no matter what, no matter how relaxed or tired or drunk, I couldn't stop them coming. It's like my brain has other ideas and switches on just as I'm about to switch off. You know how, sometimes at night, your mind races when you're stressed or worried? It's like that, except I see... a lot of bad shit."

[Aidan Fox]

"Oh, yeah, I know the feeling," Aidan said, and he mentally reviewed what Jake had told him so far. It was pretty damned comprehensive.

"I think you can rule out any sort of external stimulus," he said. "Y'know, music, cold water, drugs... That's a completely separate part of the brain, just adds to the noise. Everything I know about mutation tells me you need something from the inside. Something you can draw on whenever you need it... either shout down all the voices from the outside or just force them into the background. Hell, I knew someone who told me she never stopped hearing other minds. She just filtered it down to what she could handle."

Aidan steepled his fingers over his mouth and nose and sank back into his own thoughts. Then his eyes landed on Jake's guitar.

"How well do you know 'Eight Line Poem'?" he asked.

[Jacob Foley]

Jake was impressed. The extent of Aidan's knowledge of the mind and how it worked was something he hadn't anticipated - in truth, with Aidan, he was hardly ever sure what to expect. Again, questions arised, questions to which he may never know the answers. It mattered not - Aidan was trying to help. He traced his gaze to the guitar.

"Uh, if I had a second pair of arms I could play both parts of the song, and sing it."

He turned to Aidan looking rather confused, "Why?"

[Aidan Fox]

"Well, maybe hearing a song doesn't make a difference, but maybe if you remember it... play it back in your head..."

Aidan leaned back again, racking his brain for everything he'd ever learned about psychic mutations. "I was told telepathy wasn't like actually hearing people's voices, it's all cognitive, like a really vivid memory or a dream. Maybe you can put those parts of your brain to work by remembering a song you know really well - the lyrics, the melody, the harmonies, the rhythm... just to quiet the noise. The other psychic I talked to, she told me she'd make the voices recite Shakespeare. You know, whatever you can do to take control, it's got to be an advantage."

[Jacob Foley]

"You know," Jake began, after a moment of contemplation, "That sounds smart enough to work. It won't be easy, but yeah, definately worth a shot."

In his enthusiasm, he started humming the mellow tune to himself, and became oblivious to Aidan as his fingers started plucking an invisible guitar along to the song forming in his head. He sang lowly.

"Tactful cactus by your window... surveys the prairie of your room..."

He snapped out of it, and glanced up at Aidan with a grin, "This could work. This could actually work!"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan smiled back, relieved that he hadn't just been taking shots in the dark.

"I hope it does, man. I really do. And, you know, the other thing is, maybe you need to exercise your talents a little more. Maybe it'll be easier to find a middle ground between shutting everything out and drinking from a firehose."

Maybe he was stepping a little too far, but he felt compelled to say one more thing. "You really do have a gift, Jake. It's not just something you have to live with, it's something to explore and enjoy."

Aidan said it with unflinching conviction - like it was a hard-won truth, a tenet of faith.

[Jacob Foley]

It was with some guilt that Jake failed to surpress the corners of his mouth from turning in amusement. Inwardly, he'd discovered a newfound fondness for his pokerfaced friend, but outwardly, he teased.

"Look at you! You little mutant motivational speaker, you!"

His voice had taken on a rather sing-song quality, and he jabbed a suspicious finger at him, "Have you been reading Brotherhood Weekly? Yeah, I bet you have!"

A broad grin stretched across his face, and he hopped from his bed with renewed vigor - whether it had been the prospect of dealing with his condition or just good company, something had put a spring in his step and he intended to dwell in his cave no longer - headed for the door, he gave Aidan a pat on the shoulder.

"Come on, Martin Luther, maybe we can go soapbox shopping."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan grinned back. "I like the big tall ones. That way you can see the tomatoes."

He followed Jake to the door and stopped there. "Oh - sorry to bring this up, but I'm meeting with one of Pedro's crew around the old fairgrounds this evening. It shouldn't take that long, but I was hoping you might be able to come along. Keep an eye out, and make sure everything's on the level."

[Jacob Foley]

Jake considered him for a moment, and nodded, "It's cool."

[Aidan Fox]

Eight PM meant deep summer shadows under a pale yellow sky. Even though the sun was nearly an hour from setting beyond the Pacific Ocean, Los Santos was already a palette of dreary blues and purples and grays under the ineffectual streetlights, a sort of darkness that was even more concealing than midnight.

The headlights of the House's white Toyota pick-up truck juddered as Aidan navigated the narrow, dilapidated road that ran down the east end of the Los Santos Fairgrounds. Perhaps fifteen years ago on a summer night like this the place would still have been full of food and craft vendors, carnival games, musicians, and lovingly maintained classic cars on display. But there hadn't been a fair in the last decade, and the budget for city maintenance had vanished before the last one could even be fully dismantled. There were a few free-standing pavilions, a paint-starved gazebo, and a scattering of storage sheds that had long been cannibalized for anything of value. There was even a kid-sized Ferris wheel and what passed in a county fair for a roller coaster, both of which now had trees growing inside them and kudzu crawling all over their scaffolding.

The fairgrounds had been fenced in and locked up for a very good reason, but the lock had a way of falling off the chain so often that City Maintenance had given it up for a lost cause. The people who used the place these days didn't brook much argument.

Aidan parked the truck reasonably out of sight on a broken-up concrete pad behind a supply shed, and he dropped a flashlight into the pocket of his jacket as he climbed out. "With any luck, this won't take too long," he said to Jake. "Pedro's man is supposed to meet us at Pavilion A. It's the only one the roof hasn't collapsed yet."

[Jacob Foley]

"Nice," said Jake, he turned on the spot in appraisal of their surroudnings, "Homely."

He fell into step alongside Aidan, putting to bed his instinctive apprehension, and kept a weather eye open. Underfoot, concrete crunched like honeycomb, and the summer breeze rummaged around an empty shed, muttering to the dark. A weak wisp of smoke lingered in the air, prompting Jake to snap his gaze left and right in sudden alarm, but there was no sign of fire. Up ahead, Pavilion A crept into view, housing a few dozen unoccupied benches in thick shadow.

"This dude better believe in punctuality."

[Aidan Fox]

They drew closer to the pavilion, all metal pillars sunk deep into the cement under a sprawling roof. The wind hissed through the steel rafters and set the whole structure vibrating.

There was no sign of life in the old pavilion. Aidan sighed and pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket. "We'll give him another five minutes," he said. "Keep your eyes open."

He lit the cigarette with a jet of blue flame from his thumb and stood staring out over the desolate grounds.

[Ramona Calaveras]

Pedro's man was right on time, though not exactly in plain sight. Ramona had watched from one of the pavilion's long-suffering picnic benches as the pair approached, the long summer shadows gathered around her in a haze. When she exhaled, the darkness dispersed into the air like the smoke from Aidan's cigarette, slowly revealing the shape of someone standing up from the bench, the hood of their sweater up over their head.

“Fairground's closed, you know.”

[Jacob Foley]

"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath.

After whipping around on full alert, Jake attempted to regain his cool composure, and fished a cigarette pack and lighter from his jacket pocket. Lighting up, he regarded the hooded stranger with a practiced indifference.

"So, what's this about?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan wheeled in mirror image with Jake. He didn't recognize the woman, but at least they both had just traded mutant calling cards.

"You must be Pedro's friend," he said, his mouth leaking smoke. "I don't think we've met. I'm Aidan, this is Jake."

[Ramona Calaveras]

Flipping the hood down to her shoulders, she came forward out of the gloom with both hands pushed into the pouch-pocket of her sweater.

“I'm Ramona... Pedro told me a lot about you two.”

Her gaze drifted between the pair, before dropping to the cigarette carton Jake held.

“You gonna offer me a smoke, or what?”

[Jacob Foley]

"Oh."

Jake fumbled with his battered packet, and at length presented it to Ramona with a single cigarette conveniently poking out. He watched her intently.

"I'm Jake."

[Aidan Fox]

That counted as pleasantries in these circles. These weren't the friendliest of surroundings, and Aidan was eager to get their business take care of as quickly as possible.

"Pedro told me he had some news to share with us about the Onces."

[Ramona Calaveras]

She took the cigarette and with a little more prompting, Jake even managed to find the courtesy to light the tip. Before she went on, Ramona took a long drag and closed her eyes as she savoured the moment.

“Keep meaning to quit, but all this cloak and dagger shit gets me nervy as fuck. Anyways, the onces... Marano's heard some pretty interesting shit lately. Pedro said he told you about the Nectar.”

She waited a beat for a nod from either Jake or Aidan; the latter obliged. “It turns out that the 3-11s are pushing Nectar to the fuckin' Jericho Center, of all places. You'd think they would have better connections than the onces but whatever,” Ramona shrugged, flicking away ash from the tip of her cigarette. “The problem is... right around the time they start peddling that shit, we start noticing mutantes going missing from the streets.”

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan lowered his cigarette away from his mouth. "Missing? What do you mean?"

[Ramona Calaveras]

“Missing, gone. Like one day they're here, the next they're not.”

Ramona shrugged one shoulder and wrinkled her face at Jake, as if to say: Is he always this slow?

“Lot of mutants in this city, you know? Some of 'em too proud to go somewhere like your house, so they end up on the street. Their families don't want them, so if maybe one day they trip and fall into the back of a Jericho van, who cares? One less freak for the police to worry about.”

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan's hand closed around his burning cigarette. The whole thing went up in a puff of blue flame.

"Shit. I figured they were running the drugs to Jericho, taking but mutant prisoners... This isn't about territory anymore. The Onces are turning into a damn lynch squad."

[Jacob Foley]

The string of revelations left Jake silent and cold. There was something deeply sinister about these cloak-and-dagger attacks that somehow made the Three Elevens' open hostility towards the residents of Redencíon House seem preferable. He thought about their kids and how vulnerable they would be to such abductions. How could he warn them without outing himself and Aidan as La Raza conspirators? It felt like being cornered with only one means of escape: through the enemy.

"If they've changed their gameplan, we need to change ours, and fast. Pedro must surely see this?"

[Ramona Calaveras]

“If they want a war, he'll give 'em one.”

Ramona drew a deep lungful from the cigarette then exhaled pale smoke through her nose. She looked at Aidan then Jake, her mouth a hard line as she examined their expressions.

“What he needs to know... is when the shit hits the fan, who's gonna be there for la raza?”

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan had known this was coming. As a rule, gangs didn't take consultants - anything less than filial devotion was cause for distrust. That was the reason for the colors: either you were in or you were out.

"You can tell Pedro we'll defend this neighborhood from the Elevens, come hell or high water," Aidan said. "That's always been the agreement. As long as we share the same turf, we're in this together. But open warfare in the streets? That's going to be as ugly for La Raza as it is for Redencion. We need a better option."

[Jacob Foley]

"What about this place in West Carson? If that's where the nectar is being trafficked then maybe that's where the Elevens are depositing abducted mutants, too."

For all intents and purposes, it was their only lead, and provided them something concrete to work from instead of dancing around flimsy declarations of loyalty. The operations at the abandoned warehouse posed a significant threat, not only to La Raza and their territory, but to every mutant in Los Santos - and all they really knew about it was that was locked down like Fort Knox. It was disturbing to think such nefarious machinations were taking shape in his own back yard, and Jake felt a pang of regret at his dismissive treatment of the news earlier, all because he was feeling a little sorry for himself. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and looked to Ramona:

"If you get your hands on one of them, I'll find out everything you need to know about this place," he glanced at Aidan, "And then we burn it to the ground."

[Ramona Calaveras]

La Raza knew how to talk big – but Aidan was right. For all their posturing, they didn't want a war. The bravado that Pedro and his boys carried themselves with was a shield designed to ward their enemies away, not to antagonise them. Still, Ramona couldn't help but grin and give a slow, approving nod to Jake's suggestion of torching the warehouse.

“We can pick someone up, no problem...” she answered, feeling her attention pulled away from the two boys to the pavilion, a little frown wrinkling her brow.

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan flicked some ash off the end of his cigarette. "Any information we can get will help for a target that big. We'll have to coordinate..."

He saw Ramona's attention shift, and he mirrored her frown with one of his own.

"Jake, do you sense anything?"

[Jacob Foley]

"We're not alone," he said, casting his cigarette to the ground, "Two of them. Behind the gazebo."

Jake was rooted to the spot, his telepathy didn't require him to remain stationary, but it helped. It helped to make no sudden movements when you were being watched. In his mind's eye, he saw the rotten wood of the bandstand and the gravel beneath their feet, his fingers coiled around cold steel and balanced the sturdy weight of it in his hands - no, their hands. His heart switched gears but he was steadfast.

"Something's not right," he muttered breathlessly, "They're... waiting for something..."

Something flickered briefly at the back of his mind; an image, dark and warped. Frozen, his eyes narrowed, and with a shallow gasp it reappeared, this time he had the distinct impression of movement, a strange winding sensation. He gave Aidan a troubled look.

"Something's not right here. I think-"

Dark shapes twisted and swayed, left and right, left and right, the sky stretched overhead in infinite panorama, and the floor crawled under his belly. It was a world of giants, two of which swept suddenly into view, dwarfed by a towering pavillion. He made his choice, and surged forward with murderous intent.

"Aidan-" Jake's warning fell short as he threw himself at his friend, sending them both toppling to the ground.

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan felt the wind go out of him as he crashed to the ground, which turned out to be lucky - the moment before Jake had barreled into him, he'd inhaled a mouthful of something that wasn't cigarette smoke but burned like pepper spray. He tumbled shoulder over shoulder and pushed himself up by his elbows, nearly retching as wisps of black smoke curled out of his mouth.

Standing where he'd just been a moment ago was a billowing column of smoke, inky-black even in the garish sodium glow of the streetlights, and out of the smoke materialized a tall, dark-skinned man with a predatory sneer on his face and a long, shining knife in his hand.

Still choking, Aidan drove his hand into the dry sawgrass that filled the grounds and sent a curling jet of blue flame through the yellow stems and up like a spear at the attacker's chest. But before the flame could hit home, the stranger vanished into smoke again and spiraled off like a bottle rocket into the darkness.

[Ramona Calaveras]

Before Ramona could think to move, an arm was locked across her throat, the flashing blade of a knife precariously close. Teeth-bared, she grabbed at her attackers forearm with both hands, digging her fingernails into the bare skin there – before bursting into a twisting spiral of ash-black smoke. Colour drained from the world around as she tripped forward, turning just in time to see the knife-man vanish. The pavilion knocked the wind out of her as she hit the ground, dark smoke billowing a smouldering cocoon around her when she materaliased once more. Aidan lay a matter of feet away. She thrashed out an arm at him, grabbing his wrist as the knife-man materialised with a puff above them both. Blue fire surged out of her other hand and into his chest, the taste of burnt leather filling the air seconds before he evaporated again.

“Motherfuck, that stings!” she swore, shaking the flames from her smoking fingertips.

[Jacob Foley]

"Aidan, hit the gazebo!" Jake cried out as he scrambled to his feet.

It was like whisper of icy breath, the hairs on his neck stood on end, and he turned just in time to snatch a smoking hand from the air. Once the rest of his attacker materialised, he buried a fist into his gut. The knife quivered dangerously overhead, and as they wrestled for leverage, Jake sought to capitalise on his blow by following up with a dirty knee lift. Instead, he stumbled through a pillar of caustic fog, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

"Get down!" he barked, and not a moment later did the first crack of gunfire pierce the night.

[Aidan Fox]

With Ramona's touch came a pulling sensation, like something was being drawn through Aidan's skin, a substance he didn't know he had. It dizzied him for a moment, and he was unsteady as he rose to his feet, as if he were standing on a tilting carnival ride. He only just absorbed Jake's warning in time to get down again, and he dove behind an old cinder block grilling pit.

Aidan leaned cautiously around the wall of the grill, just enough to see the dilapidated gazebo looming in the darkness and two dark shapes huddled inside. One of them fired off a shot that took a chip off the concrete bricks and forced him back to the other side.

He laid his hand in the dry grass again and spat out a jet of blue flame, which ran quickly over the lawn as if following a powder trail to the gazebo. The more fuel he burned, the more power was available to him, and the dry, rotting wood was pure hunger for the flames. The blue fire shot around the perimeter of the gazebo and engulfed the whole thing nearly instantaneously, forcing the two Elevens to dive away and swat at their smoldering clothes.

"Where'd the black smoke guy go--"

No sooner had he said it than he was scrambling away from a swinging knife. Aidan punched at him with a bloom of fire, but the man dissolved, ghosted around him, and reappeared behind his back to put him in a vicious arm lock.

[Ramona Calaveras]

As she scrambled for cover from the gunfire, a stream of curses tumbled from Ramona's lips and most of them aimed at herself. Playing with fire was never a good idea, even if - a short distance away - Aidan was making it look like child's play. The urge to cheer as the gazebo near enough went up in flames was curbed almost instantly as the black smoke solidified once again, snatching Aidan up into an arm lock.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Ramona felt herself slip back into the shadowy realm of the smoke man. It felt like the world had been slowed down to half speed as she saw Aidan's face gradually contort into a grimace whilst he struggled to break free. Against all common sense, Ramona let the blue fire ignite within her fist – and seconds later blinked back into existence, perpetually unable to maintain more than one 'borrowed' power at a time. Aidan jerked his head forward at just the right moment, as she threw the flame over-arm like a baseball – the sphere colliding with the Black Smoke Man's jaw seconds before he could poof out of existence.

“How you like that, cabrón!”

[Jacob Foley]

Before the gazbo was consumed in a roaring inferno, Jake was sprinting in a wide arc around a row of storage sheds, clear of the gunshots. When the startled cries of the gangbangers rang out, he reappeared close to where they had fallen, dusting glowing embers from their clothes. The nearest of the pair was on all fours, he saw Jake and scrambled for his weapon. There was the low crack of boot-meeting-jaw, and as the thug reeled, Jake advanced on his unsuspecting friend, coiling a length of chain around his fist.