Printable View
Her voice was soft and melodic to his ears, it was the first time he'd heard it and he found it comforting. He was hesitant in looking at her directly, it felt like a violation; she had been by his side for days and he had no memory of what she looked like. He glanced at her; she was young and beautiful; by the warm glow of day she had an unearthly incandescence. She actually looked like an angel. He nodded.
"Excellent. I'm very glad." Spectre dropped her feet from the swing, to the floor and stood.
Walking along the porch, she trailed her fingers along the banister and let him keep some distance between them, if that's what he wanted. She just watched him with open curiosity. Tron wouldn't miss them if they disappeared for a bit, and there was something to be said for walking on the beach and the recuperative effects it could have on one's frame of mind. She gestured toward the shoreline.
"Would you like to walk? I'm sure you have questions and I promise to answer them."
He nodded again and fell into step with her after they had descended the stairs from the porch. First they walked on a wooden path and then there was nothing but sand and water. He felt an immediate sense of freedom. They were silent for a while, he imagined she was waiting for him. He glanced at her, she was ready and smiled. His face was inquisitive, and his hands made a series of gestures. He paused suddenly, feeling sheepish, and delved into his pockets. He pulled out his notepad and pen, he flipped open the notepad and scribbled quickly as he walked. Once he was done, he held it up for her to see:
Who are you?
Smiling patiently, she tried to think of the best way to explain.
"A while ago, someone else lived here. Someone similiar to me, but her name was Jocelyn and she was not a mutant."
Spectre knew about his sister. He already knew, very well, what mutation could do to people. Not the abilities and changes that came along with evolution, but the way it was received. The way it forced families into hiding, and living half lives.
She watched him for a minute then continued. "That life is over. I couldn't be her anymore after my abilities became known."
Bending, she picked up a piece of driftwood and ran her fingers along it's surface, worn and smooth from being constantly battered by the sea. It was not unlike what would happen to them all, if they did not act for themselves. The current society would register and liscence all mutants, restrain them if need be, and wear them down into smooth, harmless objects that floated along in their world.
"Now, my name is Spectre."
His suspicions were confirmed. She told her story like it was a fairytale, it made him wonder what her own past had been like. She spoke like one life had ended and another begun. He didn't take the time to mull over it and instead started writing his next question, the one which bothered him most.
Why did you come for me?
She tossed the driftwood at the water, watching it sink and disappear. "It's part of what we do now, try our best to counter the acts against people like us."
"Tron.." She nodded back toward the house, indicating the other person that was with them..
"..he was the one who learned what was happening the other night. When he told me that you were missing from the scene, I knew there was a chance to save you from that fate and I took it."
Looking out at the sea she was quiet for a long time, words seeming to escape her. How could you say 'I'm sorry they killed your whole family and stole the only life you knew.'
There was no delicate way of putting it.
"I'm sorry, for everything. You aren't my prisoner. You can leave anytime you want, but I should warn you. There is nothing left out there but pain. If they do find you, you will be thrown in a cell, interrogated for information you do not have, and I do not even care to think of what else they might do."
Gently she took his hand. "You can stay. There are more of us. We will help you.."
He found it a lot to take in. Those she spoke of - her and her colleagues, friends, whoever they were - sounded very much to him like a samaritan organisation for mutants. He didn't want charity and had little use for sympathy. His jaw was clenched tight, she had offered her condolences and it was an issue he didn't want to discuss. Perhaps that's why she changed the subject and why he felt her soft skin in his hand. He couldn't hold his pad and write with one hand and he didn't want to let go. He opened up and allowed her a sense of his confusion: He was wanted? How can they help?
He had opened up, ever so slightly. She could feel his emotions running the gamut from confusion to anger, and understood them. This was where it was going to get tricky. Spectre wished she had Saladin's apptitude for oration, at this point.
She knew the fate of those responsible for his families death. They had shared the firey inferno as a resting place and it could only have been acheived by one person.. The one standing before her.
'Do not think that we are all peaceful, do-gooders. This is war. We are on one side of this conflict. There are other people like those who came to your home, and there are those who would do something about them.'
He was starting to feel frustrated and snatched his hand out of hers. Nothing made sense to him: what did the police want with him? He couldn't hide forever with a band of mutants he didn't trust. He started writing in his pad, paused, then scribbled it out. He wrote something else and thrust it at her.
I don't under
Are you suggesting I become a fugative and hide?
Spectre let go of his hand without a struggle. She wasn't anyone, or anything to him and did not expect to be. She dropped her hands to her sides, and her smile along with it, shaking her head.
No. I'm not suggesting you hide. I'm suggesting you fight back, with us.
Then she started walking again.. tucking her hands into her pockets.
He watched her walk away. His anger quickly subsided and he stood with his back to the roaring sea, mulling over what she proposed. She offered him a new life and despite not wanting to let go of the old one, he didn't have much of a choice. He hadn't planned to make such decisions for another two years. Behind him there was another crash of waves and white foam engulfed his feet. He jumped to a safe spot, startled, and feeling the water squelch in his shoes, he grinned.
He sprinted after Spectre, and upon catching her he opened his pad, wrote in it, and presented her with another question:
So what can you do?
She wondered if he would choose to follow her, or just turn around and walk the other way. She would have been scared for him and probably haunted his steps for a few days, had he chosen to leave. The police catching him was one thing, after that who knew where he would have ended up? When she heard his approaching footsteps, pounding into the sand behind her, she smiled and blew out a breath. Then turned to read his newest question.
"I suppose I should start with the most obvious...", she said.. Then she just wasn't there anymore.
He grinned, delighted by the spectacle. He tapped himself on the head, assuming she would understand, and thought: That's incredible! So you can read minds and go invisible? You would make the best spy!
Starting with her pale blonde hair, Specter shimmered back into sight in a silvery ripple, a smile gracing her lips.
I'm one of the lucky ones, and yes.. I have put my talents into espionage on more than one occasion.
Some of them were not so fortunate, becoming physically altered by their genetic mutations, or having abilities so dangerous that biological contact was an impossibility. It was for people like them that they needed to form their own community, away from the rest of the world, where they could learn to adapt their gifts without fear of repercussions..
"You don't have to decide anything today. I have time. I can stay until you know what you want to do."
As interesting as her life may be, he wasn't sure if it was the future for him. He needed time and he was grateful for her patience. Even though she wore an expression which suggested she knew how he felt, he thought it only right to dignify her words with a proper response. As he raised his pen to write, he heard something and froze. It was a faint sound but one he recognised and suddenly feared. He looked intently at Spectre, her eyes were closed and he realised what she was doing. He scribbled on the paper.
What is it?
Their location was no longer as secure as she would have liked. Sirens were approaching, fast.
The first thought that crossed her mind was that Tron was not in the best circumstances. Although a God in the world of technology, he wouldn't last long in a scuffle with the authorities, to say nothing of the boy at her side. He was only just healing, and could not seriously be expected to defend himself against armed men. It was her reponsibility to rectify this situation. They weren't taking the boy, Tron or her without one hell of a fight.
We have to move.. Now.
She took off at a run, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and dragging him along with her, back toward the house.
It was the response he dreaded. She released his sleeve once they were running, allowing him the freedom to sprint and keep up with her. They kicked sand into the air behind them and sent gulls scattering from the beach. Despite their agitated caws and heavy wingbeats, the sound of the approaching sirens was louder than ever. They heard the screeching of car tires as they presumably turned onto the narrow road leading down into the cove. When they reached the house, Tron was at the door looking pale.
"I just picked up on their frequency. They know he's here. What are we going to do?"
Spectre ran up the front steps and pushed Tron back inside the house. "You are going to stay down, and out of sight."
She pointed back to the computer that he had just vacated. "Get on there. Wait until they report that they have him, then scramble their signals, after I make my move. Do not let them call for backup."
Turning her attention back to the boy, she frowned, hating herself for what she had to do.
I won't let them take you, I swear. But, they have to think they have you, understand..?
She disappeared, but ran her fingers through his hair to let him know she was still there.
I'm right here with you, trust me.
Four police cars, sirens shutting down, but lights still rotating in threat - pulled into the gravel drive, blocking in their own vehicle.
"This is the Police. All those inside, come out slowly, hands behind your heads. You are harboring a possibly violent criminal who is wanted for questioning. "
Like hell, she thought...
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to control his breathing. Spectre's soft touch ushered him towards the front door. Through the windows he caught glimpses of the cars and the movement of police officers; he knew they were postitioned in a semicircle around the front of the house, he knew two officers would be in position to the right and left, their weapons patiently trained on the entrance and the rest taking cover behind the open doors of their vehicles, four centre-back and one for each flanking car. He opened the door slowly and stepped out with his hands behind his head. Slowly, he stepped down from the porch and approached the vehicle in front of him.
"Everybody out."
"Where are the others, kid?" asked a woman to his right, she had her pistol pointed at his head. He wanted to tell her there was no-one else. His heart pounded.
"Ok, kid, get down on the ground."
He'd reached the end of the wooden walkway and stood next to the car in which Spectre had brought him. He got on his knees. The woman approached him cautiously, and with her free hand, released a pair of handcuffs from her belt. He heard movement behind him and was aware that three cops were preparing to enter the house. Radio chatter came from the lead response car. He thought of prison cells and interogation rooms, and started trembling.
"Taking the boy into protective custody now, and entering the house. No sign of anyone else.." The woman with the handcuffs spoke into her radio as she bent, opening the cuffs and taking the prone boy by the wrist.
That was when mayhem claimed the day. Two officers, armed with shotguns, stepped away from the police cruiser at the center. Their attention was on the front door, as three of the fellow officers advanced into the house. Without warning, the shotgun weilding pair turned toward each other, taking aim and firing. Matching slugs exploded from the barrels, ripping through the air. Simultaneously both officers were hit, and dropped to the ground out of the game.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
"Call in back up!!"
If Tron had done his job, there would be no help coming.
Spectre smiled darkly, grabbing the woman with the handcuffs by the back of her head and slamming her face into the nearby hood of the car. She too went down in a heap, unmoving..