=XF= Analysis Hub - Second Floor - Titan Enterprises
Glass doors framed by wide panels of tinted glass grant entrance into the center of the junction of three rooms that flow into each other without clear delineation. Running in a long, undulating swath, the computer lab reaches from a cluster of desks heated by the server rooms and winds through benches and more desks to a large projection screen mounted into the wall at the end of a long conference table. A collection of electronic equipment is scattered liberally throughout the lab and at every desk. Some of the desks have gathered personal touches that proclaim them as taken. Others are neat and clean, save for when they're being used as extra counterspace. Smaller rooms and alcoves containing tables, chairs, and even more equipment branch off the main aisle. The wall across from the entrance is covered in maps of varying detail and focus that are often the victims of pins marking information on current and continuing cases. Elsewhere, the walls drip paperwork and photos.

Kitty's desk doesn't have much on it, as far as personal belongings go. There are some hard drives as well as other spare computer parts scattered on top of her desk as well as in the drawers. Two empty coffee cups from a coffee chain sit on her desk, pushed out of the way to allow her laptop room to hook up to the desk top. Dual monitors have been commandeered, and this is what she currently examines, one displaying blueprints and the other what looks like a document of notes she's made. The woman herself is freshly showered and in comfortable dark denim jeans and a dark blue shirt that fits tightly.

Bahir's voice is audible before he is visible, murmuring in one half of a conversation. He is elsewhere in the analysis area, carrying on a quiet conversation in his own little nook. After a short period of time, it concludes, he hangs up, and with one post stuck to each of his first two fingers on his right hand, he goes to find Kitty. His shirt is black, the fit is tight, and there is something about evil on it in pretty awful 1337-speak. It is probably ironic. Right? Right. He edges around and into Kitty's peripheral vision, addressing her with a quick, "Hey. What's the plan?"

"I've just been going over that myself," Kitty replies, a quick glance at the man before gesturing to her computer screen with her chin. "We know quite a bit about the layout of the house from when we were there before, but they're going to be edgy since they were recently robbed. Also, I'm sure they'd recognize me. I was figuring a night time excursion." Having said this, she turns her chair so as to look more completely on Bahir, head tilting only slightly as she asks, "Do you have any specific ideas or things I need to know?"

Bahir wiggles a couple of the post-its plastered to his fingers. "Yeah, actually. I did." He pulls a chair over so that he can settle in next to Kitty, peeling off the notes to stick them to her desk. "There's richboy's club back in New York City that a few of us belong to -- Dr. Grey used to be a part of it too, actually." See? So they are a totally innocent and nice group of people. REALLY. He moves his hands away from the post-its, which echo his explanation: "Anyway, talked to some people there, found out there's a fair amount of buzz about this Fountain Project thing in those circles. They talk about it like it is some kind of plastic surgery, but there aren't a lot of people who have actually done it. Follow the train of 'I heard it from's and you get back to Ashlock himself. So."

"I think I know what you're talking about," Kitty replies dryly, not at all convinced about any innocence. She picks up one of the post-it notes and studies it as she throws out, "So you want to speak to Ashlock? He was out of town when we were there just a few days ago, and I hadn't thought to look if he's back home yet. If we do this, do we just not bother with Cindy?" There's a frown before she rearranges her features into something neutral besides a questioning quirk of an eyebrow.

"I'd like to do both, if possible." Bahir leans against the edge of Kitty's desk, frowning. "And I didn't really want to talk to him, exactly." Turn his head inside-out and shake? Closer! "If it isn't possible to do both of them at once -- if he's still out of town -- then Cindy needs to come first, as signs of telepathic influences fade very quickly."

Kitty nods once, pulling up her e-mail and writing something in with quick and nimble keystrokes. "I'll ask the analysis department to find out where Mr. Ashlock might be in his scheduling. Maybe he'll have returned home, especially since the 'robbery'. If we can, we should grab one or two more people, then. If Gambit is available, he can take you near enough to find out what you can from the father, and I can take the other telepath to Cindy, hopefully."

Kitty nods once, pulling up her document and writing something in with quick and nimble keystrokes. "I'll just make a note to find out where Mr. Ashlock might be in his scheduling. Maybe he'll have returned home, especially since the 'robbery'. If we can, we should grab one or two more people, then. If Gambit is available, he can take you near enough to find out what you can from the father, and I can take the other telepath to Cindy, hopefully."

"Tom should be able to handle Cindy," Bahir agrees, folding his arms over his chest. He sounds fairly confident of the boy's abilities. Man's. Young man's. "We're not trying to reverse or tamper, after all: I just want a look to see if we can see signs of telepathic influence, which he had damn well better be familiar with after all those in-depth scans we had to do." He gives a quick nod, agreeable to working with Gambit. "Tom's range is a little farther-reaching than mine, but both of us can work from a certain distance. We don't need to be right on top of either."

If a look of worry crosses Kitty's face, it's covered quickly by other concerns. "Then we just need to figure out when we're going in, if Ashlock is there. Night time would work best, and we can get into the house easily enough. Gambit has already helped me plot out the security system that he noticed while in the house." She pauses with a shrug, indicating to one of her screens with a free hand. "I can send it to you if you need it."

"I don't know if we /need/ to get into the house," Bahir says. He picks up one of his post-its, turns it over, and sketches a quick and messy diagram on the back. "I got that note about roofs. If they are both within 100 meters of any point on the roof, we don't actually need to get inside -- which potentially saves us a world of trouble." It is clear where his preference lies, as he waves off her offer. "Have no idea how to deal with security systems."

"As much as I love hanging out on roofs when I don't need to," Kitty responds dryly, but nods her agreement to his plan. Apparently she'll let him do what he wants on this one. "I'll send a message to see if Gambit's available to go, but if not then we /should/ be able to handle it. Is there anything else you need to tell me before we get there? I'd love to be prepared for all contingencies, for once." It's remarked with a vague handwave, presumably about all the previous missions. She's not asking for much, is she?

"Nothing I can think of," Bahir admits. "Are there any details about the house itself that you think /I/ need to know?" His tone is matching dry, edged with slightly sharper sarcasm. He is not as nice a person, you see. "I like being prepared for contingencies, as well." He taps his fingers, then reaches out to collect his post-its again. "I suppose," he says, then pauses. "Since this is a pretty simple scan, it shouldn't drain Tom or I very badly, but on the off-chance that something goes really bizarrely wrong, or the evil telepath is actually Ashlock himself, you might want to make sure you have a way to get one or both of us off the roof if we're semi-conscious."

Kitty considers the information for a moment, making a mental note of it. "I think I can handle that, though I'm not sure how quickly it could be done if I'm being safe about it. I'll try to think of more ways." She pauses and glances at the computer, looking over the blueprints. "Everything that the team knows is clearly marked." There's a hesitance and then a "And at least one person knows about my powers in the house."

Bahir gives Kitty a somewhat startled look, and then sits in silence, quietly inviting her to expand on that.

He sits quietly for quite a bit. She's obviously not wanting to give more details. When it's clear he's not going to talk, she explains simply, "Cindy knows that I can become intangible."

"Then at least she won't scream bloody murder if you ghost into her bedroom, should she not be in range." Bahir's tone is a little flat, and the dry humor that he strives for is negated by that shadowy hint of DISAPPROVAL in his eyes.

Kitty ignores the judgement, except for a tiny narrowing of her eyes. "No, she won't. I have good reason to believe she'll trust me, and that others wouldn't believe her if she told them of my abilities." Ok. So she's not entirely affected by the disapproval. See? She totally didn't do anything bad, Bahir.

Bahir shrugs. "How'd that come out, anyway?" he asks, all casu~u~ual.

The casual doesn't fool Kitty. Bahir recieves a frown for his nosiness as she responds with a "During the mission. She was the only person who's undergone the process so far we've been able to convince to talk about it."

"Just wondering if she caught you phasing or something," Bahir says, a hand held up to fend off that frown. He is saintly beneath her regard as his hands fold in again, post-its in his palm. "Why do you think she'll trust you? You guys didn't talk for that long, did you?"

Kitty sighs, running a hand through her curls and focusing on the computer screen. Her next words are mumbled and reluctant. "Because, she thinks I'm her fairy godmother. That's how she knows of my abilities, and that's why I think she'll trust me."

Expression very, very still, Bahir bites his lips. They curve up, then back, then flatten again as he struggles to maintain a straight face. He clears his throat. "Fairy godmother, huh?"

"Yes, wings and wands and everything," Kitty snaps back, though the humor of the situation isn't lost on her, either. There's a flash of amusement in her eyes before she shrugs. "That's about all of the things we know from the last mission, though."

"Okay," Bahir says, expression smooth, but the moment not forgotten. "I'll familiarize myself with the blueprints. Make sure you pass them on to Tom, too. Ideally, we won't have to go inside, but in case we do -- well."

"Better to be prepared," Kitty finishes before turning back to give her attention fully to her computer. "I'll be prepared, Doctor." She goes about working on a computer program, pausing to make sure the blueprints are forwarded to Bahir and Tom before the former has even left.

Kitty's codename is not fairy godmother. Don't listen to Bahir.


What with the recent break-in and all, there is definitely signs of increased security. Maybe not to all of the home-owners inside the gate of their little community, but there are extra guards, patrolling inside and outside the high wall. They have long routes to walk, along the entire length of the subdivision, but they're there. Otherwise, the night is fairly quiet--distant traffic sound, a few dogs barking.

The distance from the wall Kitty sits is enough to almost completely camoflauge her from passing guards, especially when combined with the bush she sits behind. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moving bushes. The woman herself is in dark denim jeans that cling to her legs, and a blue-black sweater that is also quite clingy. Into her comm unit, she mutters a "Do you know how long we have between those patrols, Gambit?" She glances around the area, some yards outside of the subdivision, to where presumably the team is also hidden.

Remy is sitting in the darkness and not smoking. By the look of him in the dim light that seeps in through the bushes, he really wishes he -could-. Eyes half closed as he makes a calculation, there's a quality of mild unease about him that's more a feature of mindscape than overt body language -- returning to the scene of a recent crime isn't something he's tended towards 'til now. His answer is firm, however. "They're tryin' for twenty minutes but these ain't crack troops. Varies between than an' a half hour. Move when they upwind of us in case they got dogs, an' we got plenty of time t'get up there."

Crouched at a diagonal near Kitty's heels, Tom listens in silence with narrowed eyes. He is well shadowed by the faded grey of his hooded shirt and the faded black of his jeans, and with his head cocked, he holds himself balanced still between the bushes with his fingertips touched lightly to the ground. He has been demonstrating his ability to be quiet for the better part of the last hour, saying little and listening intently. He is wearing a serious business expression, and apart from the fact that he really, really needs a haircut (/look/ at those shaggy bangs), he might look decently professional.

Near Remy, Bahir is dressed dark with his arms loose at his sides. His fists curl and loosen in a slight expression of tension. The shields over his minds are thinned to a bare glaze, with attention turned sharply toward any stirring on the part of those around them. He, like Tom, plays quiet.

Next patrol is up, guard walking by with his flashlight ready, and his shepard held on a loose leash. It has been a short enough time that his attention is still high, and his head moves all over as he passes, but pass on he does, finding no disturbance at the wall.

"Alright, we'll let these ones pass by," Kitty murmurs as the guard walks. She waits until he's fully upwind and then makes her way towards the wall as quickly and quietly as possible. There's a glance spared for her team, but she's more focused on checking to see if the coast is clear. Her face is phased to look through the other side, stopping just as her eyes clear the wall and looking around.

Remy rises silently, bar for the faint click from a knee joint unhappy with waiting in the dew. Dressed in clothing dark and neatly fitted, with shoes selected long ago for catburglary, he's got a black equipment bag slung onto his back that he's careful to keep ducked down below the wall as he meanders up to wait beside Kitty. A hand gesture beckons the two telepaths to readiness.

No telling what the patrol pattern is on the inside, but there's no one immediately in Kitty's sight, at least, just the empty street and then the lawn of the nearest house to the wall.

Shields thinned to a gossamer whisper around his thoughts in case he might catch the glow of a nearby threat in motion (at least, a human one, to triangulate upon; who knows what goes on in dog skulls? SQUIRREL!), Tom rises smoothly from his crouch, lissome and quiet. He paces after Kitty on light steps, and stills just behind her and Remy, listening.

"No one I can see," is told to the others as Kitty pulls back inside of the wall. She glances towards the others, asking, "Can either of you tell if there's someone in range? Need to know if we have enough time to get cover." There's tension as they wait there, in the open.

"Pick shrubs an' sheds over buildings f'cover, we need it" Remy gives one last bit of micro-manage-y advice, his mind a burning little ember of watchful tension as he murmurs. "Buildings got lights with motion sensors."

Strolling over with his hands all but in his pockets, Bahir stops a short distance away to avoid too large a knot at the wall, with his head tipped upwards in acknowledgement to Remy. To Tom's senses, he is a creature of coiled tension and impatience. Outward, he displays only a poised readiness. "Let you know when I can sense someone," he promises. Tom will probably shout first. Oh well.

On the outside, the guard is just passing out of range--inside, no one yet. Our intrepid heroes are clear, though cover is a ways away, the area between the last house's landscaping the wall conveniently overlooked by the windows of several houses.

"Me too," Tom says lowly, with the slant of his glance toward Bahir. He says nothing in reply to Remy's advice, the tenor of his look shaded by the dim light and the fall of his eyelashes, not to mention the fall of his aforementioned very silly shaggy hair. For Bahir's senses, he glows a spark of annoyance of the headstrong, cocksure kind (or is that, the other way around?) "We're okay for now."

Kitty doesn't hesitate to react to his all clear, grabbing on to both Remy and Tom without so much as a 'by your leave'. The moment her hands touch, she phases all three of them, pulling the two through the wall easily in this form. She releases them to become solid again before shoving an arm back through for Bahir, wiggling her fingertips for him to come closer.

Bahir takes Kitty's hand, even if she disconnects like a loser, and follows her through the wall to go join the party. The last of his shields fall, leaving telepathy bared and mental ears strained for outside noise. It isn't that he doesn't hear Kitty or Remy; it is that he works very hard to ignore them.

Tom startles. The hiss of a choked breath, cut off by the abruptness of his phasing intangible, might be dangerous if there /weren't/ that all-clear. By the time he recombobulates, though, he is already through the wall and on the other side. A faint sense of << ... ! >> bubbles into Kitty's consciousness, last expression of Tom's disgruntlement before he refocuses on joining the wide cast of Bahir's net, listening for ghoulies and ghosties, et cetera.

There really ought to be a SCHLORP sort of noise when one is pulled through a wall. Happily for remaining covert there isn't, but Remy looks slightly pop-eyed all the same. He composes himself, scans around, and gives a silent point towards the nearest spot of cover. "Don't run," is his advice. "Suspicious." Waiting until everyone's assembled, he sets out at a purposeful walk, attempting to radiate vibes of Supposed To Be Here as he goes.

The nearest house has a light on in the facing upstairs bedroom window, the flickering, bluish shade characteristic of a TV in an otherwise dark room. It's inhabitants are asleep, as any scanning come into range of the inside rooms. A sports car's powerful engine zooms, way off from the direction of the gate, someone getting home very late. The Ashlock's house is several large properties down the street, or a long wade through half-fences and more cunning landscaping means of marking property lines such as bushes or ditches through the backyards.

A faint << Sorry. >> is directed from Kitty's mind towards Tom, though she has no control over who recieves the thought. She falls quickly in to step beside Remy, startling only slightly at the engine. "It's hard to repress the urge to run when you're breaking and entering," she mumbles, picked up over the comm unit.

Emulating Remy's manner of walking, Bahir does a slightly more pointed version of Supposed To Be Here as he gently turns away any attention that turns their way within range of his telepathy. The touch is slight, and infrequent, with power sparingly applied. He hoards, with only a soft snort answering Kitty.

Moving quietly has come quite naturally to Tom over the course of the past months. At first he only walks along, with a fair go at nonchalance encompassed in his sidling lope, but when he catches on to what Bahir is doing, his smile briefly lights his face in the dark.

Sleeping, fucking...nothing very interesting in any of the closest houses that come into range. No insomniacs staring out of windows. Stay within sight of the wall for too long, and the next patrol will be along soon, however.

"S'why y'average thief ends up gettin' pinched." There is perhaps a hint of smug to Remy's tone as it wafts faintly over the comm link. -He- got busted by being stupid over family. Far superior. He continues his walk, just another one of the pretty and athleticly fit people, back from some late night hockey game or something, and eventually tips his head sideways towards a likely side yard near the Ashlock property. Stay within sight of the wall? Naaah.

The tip of the head is noticed, and Kitty walks easily through the half fence surrounding the side yard. She might even send a smirk towards Bahir, in return to his snort. "Knock on wood," she replies to Remy, eyes flickering to him as she waits for them to jump the fence.

Bahir takes a BIG step over the fence.

Tom is still doing a pretty good job of being quiet, which in his case does not include speaking. He takes the fence in a light hop, hands lifted for certainty of balance upon the other side. He arches a glance at Kitty, brows up.

This side yard has a strip of gravel like a dry streambed, though one lovingly placed down to the last detail, to separate it from the Ashlock's backyard. Meanwhile, back at our target that's not fences, the downstairs lights are on in the Ashlock's house. Someone isn't sleeping easy tonight, or hasn't been to bed at all. The light filters out enough to suggest at least a couple cameras, pointed out of the backyard, and motion senser lights, though the locations of all of them are by no means clear.

See Remy. See the fence. See Remy hop over the fence. Hop, Remy, hop! He does, taking care to scuff the streambed gravel as little as possible. Then there's sighting at Chez Ashlock, and a grimace comes to his features. "S'why returns are a stupid idea..." escapes, before he glances to Tom and Bahir. "What are the locales o' the brains?"

"It isn't exactly that easy," Bahir murmurs under his breath to Remy. With telepathy extended, he stretches toward the waking minds in particular. He looks to Tom, eyebrow arched, to see if he can hear anything that passes beyond his own range.

Tom's mouth crimps in the thin suggestion of a smile that isn't, really. He closes his eyes with the expulsion of an annoyed breath past his nose, casting mental fingers to the far reaches of his range toward the house.

There's no Cindy in either's range, but Tom should be able to able to get the parents fighting, downstairs in the kitchen over their coffee. Their voices are instensely low so to not wake the girl, and they're wearing ruts into the same questions over and over. Who broke in? Why? Was it about the Fountain Project, or something else? Was Cindy at risk?

Remy's answer is a "Make up a brochure?" that manages to mix in vague sheepishness at overestimating telepathic resources. He falls silent, waiting and watchful on the fringes of the big yard as his fingers drum against his thigh.

Kitty focuses her attention on the yard while waiting for the telepaths. In case Remy hasn't noticed, but most likely he has, she nudges him and flicks a finger towards one of the cameras she notices. "Smile. Are we worried about being seen?"

Courteous, Tom funnels his mental impressions to Bahir as best equipped to understand them, in a loosely wrapped bundle of fierce tension, his basic guess at location, and topic, as he opens his eyes and looks a little sharply toward the others in the dark. At this extension of reach, the anxious mental voices blend a little in their fervor, a particularly unhappy flavor of empathic ice cream soup. "I think two, together. Talking. In I think the kitchen."

"-Hate- return trips." Remy mutters as Kitty points out cameras. One hand lifts to rake through his hair, bleeding off tension as his mind tickity-ticks through options and risks. "Ain't likely there's a real person watching the cameras. We care if we fuck up an' draw attention enough f'them to review 'em later. Avoid if possible."

Sorting through the rush of information from Tom, Bahir nods, seconding the younger telepath's guess. "We can probably keep anyone in range from getting too excited by lights, but if any screamer alarms go off, and we can't reach anyone listening for them, we'll be in trouble. Best thing to do would be to take care of the security."

"I can make trips, but that gives them more time to find us," Kitty suggests, glancing at the motion sensor she can see. "I don't suppose you can do that nifty trick you do, Doc?" She gestures to her head, shrugging towards him.

"If we could get close enough," Tom says, slanting a meaningful glance down at his watch, currently little more informative than a band of dark on his wrist.

"Alternately, If y'can keep them from not mindin' about lights bein' set off, I can slide up alongside the house, see what I can do about security systems," Remy puts forward, hitching a shoulder beneath the bag he's carrying. "All we need is just a little corner o' dark an' quiet so we can get up on the roof, once we get across that lawn."

There are trips across the yard, with the younger agents abandoning those old farts down on the ground in favor of climbing up to the roof. Kitty has scraped herself up good, but has managed to make it up in one piece. Right now, she takes a breath or two (you know, because you have to do that to live), and waits for Tom to find Cindy's brain.

With GRACE and REFINEMENT and SUPERIOR SKILL, Bahir and Remy do their thing on the ground floor. As Remy makes the security system his bitch, Bahir leans against the wall nearby, with the parental minds in close range. Carefully, painstakingly, he turns them inside-out.

Cindy's brain is there to find, very easy. She's dreaming of school and tigers at this point. Don't question the dream logic. Her fan is audible through the window, making up for the fact that said window is very safely shut, and she sleeps with her covers tossed aside, curled up around her binkie in the form of a light blue blanket.

Mrs. Ashlock's mind is comparatively uninteresting--she knows she made compromises for her child's safety, but she doesn't know the half of what her husband's still doing, and doesn't want to know. That's her biggest thought, as the sit together in morose silence though, that it was all supposed to be done and gone once Cindy was better. Tyler's mind has all /kinds/ of secrets. Which particular flavor would you like?

All of them, actually -- but Bahir is on the side of light, and truth, and justice, so he just goes after those centering on his daughter, first. He pries gently, turning Tyler's thoughts inward toward her daughter, and her remarkable recover, and how, exactly, the miracle was brought about.

The old fart that is Remy LeBeau is not idle while he waits either. There are bits of security system to turn aside from their noble purpose, some of which require him to make like a contortionist monkey to reach. His tools are not omg ttly awesome ones, but are old friends: he bypasses here, clips off there, and currently sets about making the motion sensor and the light attached to it stop talking to each other without telling their friends they've fallen out.

Tom actually scales buildings with relative ease, almost as though he has been trained in the manly art of edificeering as part of his regimen of controlled athleticism; it is with a minimum of scrapes and bumps that he makes /his/ burglar's way up the walls. It is a work of effort, though, and it takes him an extended moment to compose his body and breath upon reaching the roof, crouched like a dark gargoyle upon the roof, with head bent and eyes lidded. Once he has settled himself into this careful crouch, he reaches into that glowing spark of a dreaming mind, sliding into Cindy's thoughts cloaked in a tiger's shadow, and beginning a careful, intent rifle through her thoughts, starting with that subconscious launching point. Tiger, tiger, burning bright--!

Like a non-telepath, Kitty starts talking to Tom even as he reaches inside the girl's mind. So annoying, isn't she? "Is she there?" she questions, looking towards her companion before adding hesitantly, "She's ok, right?" There's a clenching of her fist, the first sign that she might be thinking of doing something crazy. Or not that crazy, depending.

Buried in Cindy's dreams, there's a lot residual weakness. Dreaming she's going to wake up and still be sick, weak and helpless. Weak girls get eaten by tigers. But Joey's there too, a youngish man, hard to tell from the perspective of one when everyone is older, holding tight to her hand.

The look he shoots at Kitty sidelong and one that, in better light, would suggest irony. << She's sleeping, >> Tom says silently to her, a thin tendril of his attention spared for communication, before he returns the fullness of his strength to investigating the connections attached to those shreds of dream. Weakness? Joey?

There's no response to Tom's communication, or at least not verbally or mentally. Kitty just crosses the roof, positioning herself above where Cindy's room would be, kneeling down softly and waiting. With Tom's attention focused on the girl, he probably can't see the intention clearly in the already open mind of this agent. They really could use a DNA sample, as Bahir brought up earlier.

They really could!

Sick. Cancer. Cindy knows that word really well. Nausea, being stuck in bed. Joey held her hand and then she woke up all better. She can run and run now. And Joey's the guardian, like her fairy godmother said. A kind of scruffy guardian, sandy hair and shoulders perpetually slumped from his real height.

Even Tyler isn't sure how it happened--he was approached, not hard to find the way he'd scattered money to the winds, research, studies, anything that might help Cindy. Initial mistrust, but seeing her clone laid out, ready--impossible not to go through with it then--better to concentrate on seeing her sit up, seeing her smile, seeing her /run/ again.

Tom is not all that interested in following the cancer thread. He spends a moment investigating the tie that draws Cindy close to her fairy godmother, and then moves on, slinking deeper into the chain of consciousness to see if there are any further details he can tease out about Joey-the-guardian, and about waking up all better.

Let's backtrack to that approach, shall we? Bahir circles around the memory, getting a face, a name, contact information -- whatever Tyler has, he cements, including details of first seeing the clone: what were the facilities like, and just what kind of equipment was the body connected to. Et cetera.

The impressions there to find in Cindy's mind are not much clearer than her words to Kitty--floating, strangeness, sensory impressions and muscle impulses that didn't synch up, just at first, but always the hand on hers. Joey /smiled/ at her. That made her feel better.

Oh, whoops. Kitty lost control of her powers there, totally accidently. She falls silently through the roof, pony tail flying up as she sinks quickly. Still kneeling, she catches herself an inch above Cindy's floor, become substantial again and causing a light thump on the floor. She takes a moment to adjust herself to the room, sweeping her gaze around it without moving yet.

Remy is not party to the telepathic amenities, or to what Kitty's not!plotting. He continues to void the warranty on the security system in their little area, working to create a little pie-wedge of a blind spot for both sensors and cameras to get them back off the property again. His hands are gloved, both for gripping and against fingerprints. (Best not to give Management -too- much to bury.)

Tyler: A couple faces, but no name. Just an email. Email them with the name of the new client, /they/ call the client back. Knowledge of the facility just as curtailed--driving for hours in the blacked out backseat of a car. Only the one room seen, clone on laid out on a hospital bed. No understanding of the meaning of any equipment to make it stand out in memory as more than a wash.

Cindy turns over in her sleep, not waking at Kitty's thump, but she comes up, leaving REM behind to enter a lighter sleep state.

These details Tom finds largely unsatisfactory, so he expands the breadth of his reach, investigating for the lingering imprints of telepathic change left upon the mind he snoops in. He doesn't actually notice Kitty's physical absence, but jars more alert to what she is doing when the mind in his vicinity is suddenly not there anymore, and down below, near the one he was prodding at. He hisses a low breath through his teeth, but does not waste any effort on reaching for Kitty's brain. Rather, he hunkers a little lower in place, and attempts to pick up the thread of his concentration, nosing back around the corners of Cindy's sleeping mind.

As Bahir pulls back, leaving Tyler's thoughts to swirl and turn on their own power, he speaks two crisp words directly into Remy's thoughts, careful not to jar him: << Got it, >> he says, not entirely satisfied. << Waiting for the others, now. >>

Kitty slowly stretchs to her feet, fetching a tiny plastic bag from her pocket that might allude to the fact she'd planned to do this the whole time. She crosses the room quietly towards the bed, looking around on the pillow for a hair that she can be sure came from this new Cindy body. When one is spotted, she scoops it up easily with the bag, sealing it and tucking it into her pocket. There is no immediate move to leave, though, as she looks down at the little girl.

The fingerprints left have faded with time, but they were all the deeper in the beginning. Someone was not at all practiced, just scooping up a mind, leaving ragged edges, and plunking it down again, leaving time and natural adaptiveness to try to smooth the join.

Close enough to waking to have the natural human sense that someone is nearby, whether through hearing or just instinct, Cindy's eyes flutter open. Seeing Kitty and still half asleep, she smiles and holds out the hand not around her binkie.

Remy reacts with barely a twitch, down to Bahir's smooooothness and perhaps a little tiny beginning of familiarity with telepaths thanks to all those daily brain scans. There's a moment's awkward as a response about to be spoken is mooshed instead into a careful << Just tweaking the camera angle now. >>

The security system has no idea what hit it, really. It resists bravely, but by now, when asked to tweak, the camera tweaks.

The hand is taken with a soft smile spreading on Kitty's lips. She sits down gently at the edge of the bed, murmuring to Cindy, "It's ok. Go back to sleep, sweetie. I was just checking up on you." Her free hand smooths the girl's hair, patting in a comforting gesture. "I have to go now, but you're safe."

Tom spends a long moment studying the blurry ragged edges of the transfer, his brow creasing deeply with the physical reflection of his mental staring. He etches his impressions of the slapdash work into his memory, so that he can share with teacher as soon as they are out of here. As the girl wakes, he hesitates, and whispers a gentle suggestion to Cindy that she return to sleep, as on the drifting tendril of a lullaby: subtle, resistable, but certainly peaceful. He doesn't know he's tailgating on Kitty.

Remy gives the camera housing a little pat as he finishes moving it out of alignment. Friendly-like. << Ready when you folks are. >> Just in case the telepaths are feeling particularly attentive, he THINKS about the pie slice in the security perimeter and where it ends.

<< Ready, >> Bahir relays up to Tom, drawing his attention to Remy's baking of pies.

Cindy yawns. "--come back again--" she murmurs, but sleep is so /nice/, and so she drifts back down, happy with her Kitty-hand, not letting go until peeled off. Or phased through.

Kitty peels the hand off and places it on the binkie as well, tucking blankets around the girl as she goes back to sleep. There's a kiss dropped on her forehead, though it's done guiltily. Finally satisfied with the little gestures, she turns towards the wall and walks out, letting herself drop easily down to the bottom, using the same manner of catching herself an inch off the ground. She makes her way over to Remy, innocently.

<< I think I am about done, >> Tom reports back to Bahir at a slight delay. << As soon as Kitty gets her ass -- oh. >> She's going out the /other/ way like a /cheater/. Tom scowls, and with one last quiet rifle through Cindy's sleeping mind, withdraws. Creeping his way along the roof back to the wall, he begins a cautious trek down it, concentration split by his attempt to orient himself on his teammates.

With their ill-gotten brain-stuffs, the intrepid heroes escape. Remy's pie protects them through the yard, and a little caution gets them past the patrols, and then it's out and away. Hurray!

Remy has decided he hates revisiting, but it really wasn't so bad.