xp_logs | NM:SYWTBAS: American's Next Top Model

The New Mutants and the staff face the first bizarre level of Murderworld.

Bizarrely, the doors led into a large narrow room, with four long runways stretching out into the darkness. The flashes of hundreds of cameras flickered into the area, illuminating the chasms between the runways, where they could just see the other teams. Each was clustered into groups of four, but for what purpose, no one could yet tell. Slowly, illumination began to swell, and an although too familiar theme music began to make it's way into the atmosphere around them.

At their start, the runways seemed no different than any other catwalk and closely resembled the ones at the tent shows in Bryant Park, albeit one surrounded by an expansive void around and below. A few yards down however, all this began to slowly change. The first deterrent the teams faced was a narrowing of the platform, until it was barely big enough to fit one shoe at a time. It continued at this width for a distance until there was an abrupt return to the original size of the runway, allowing the models to continue on with relative ease, so long as they avoided the mice that scurried around the wooden floor. If one managed to successfully circumvent the little creatures, the reward was a long stretch of smooth runway, void of any rodents or changing size. The next stretch of runway seemed clear, but it obviously contained some kind of trap.

Looming at the end of the runways was a grotesque robotic mimic of Miss Tyra Banks, supermodel, gleaming under the flashing lights. The figure seemed to be waiting for them, like a spider at the end of his threads. In the atmosphere, there was a crackle, and the same voice from the earlier room began to speak.

"Who will be America's next top model? Well, not any of you, but Tyra is still waiting to judge you. The only way through this room is over those runways to the other end. Some of the obstacles are obvious, and some of them are not. For example, those clear sections? When stepped upon, a small square of the platform will tilt under pressure, dipping a few inches on either side. Several similar tiles follow until the runway eventually balances out. That's the only hint you're going to get from us!"

The voice cut out, and the next came from the robot, an uncanny replication of Tyra Banks voice. "Don your shoes, all! The end is in sight! It's so close you can almost taste it, can't you! The only thing that separates you from freedom is feet of runway. But careful where you step ladies (and gents) or else you might fall for this final leg of your journey is dangerously slick, and falling down is certainly not fierce!"

***

"You have got to be kidding me," Angel breathed, arms slightly stretched out to her side as she fought to keep her balance. She wasn't a heels kind of girl - sneakers and flats if she decided to get dressy. It had been months since she'd tried a pair on, giggling and flailing, in a friends suite. This was like a perverse mirror of that day and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "Right, I'll go first and, uh, you guys be careful. Please?"

Swallowing hard, Angel took her first shaky step out onto the platform.

Meggan eventually managed to get her own balance, as she watched Angel go first. She disliked platform heels more than she hated anything else that she could think of. She hoped she wouldn't break her ankles when it was her turn to attempt a strut. Being adept keeping your balance while scaling a tree was nothing compared to this. This whole thing was almost too surreal for her. "This is almost turning into a Through the Looking Glass sort of thing, huh?" She would go second, and she hoped she wouldn't hit a slick spot on her first step, and break her neck. She wanted to live to see her next birthday.

When the walkway narrowed to one foot at a time, Angel almost went down in a flail of arms and red hair. Gasps erupted from her two teammates when she pitched forward but she didn't fall. Instead, she'd manage to throw herself forward, landing facefirst on the platform so she could cling to it. "Right," she muttered, "why the hell am I not flying?" Pushing herself up to her knees, Angel started to call up her fire, trying not to burn the platform and if she could just get enough thrust...

A noise from above her, a shout from either Amara or Meggan, had her faceplanting again but this time on purpose as a blast of fire extinguisher foam slammed into her. She shrieked but held on until it was done and it left her wet and shaken. "...guys!" Angel called, hacking and spitting as she tried to not get it in her mouth. "I think powers are a no-go!"

Meggan almost felt like crying when she heard Angel. "No levitating for me, then, either," she whispered. She had been planning pretty much the same exact move that the other girl had, but that was, obviously, now out of the equation. Louder, she called over, "Are you okay?"

"Oh, dandy, never better! Sweet Jesus, are those mice ahead?"

Amara took a deep breath from where she was behind the two girls and the stranger in their midst, keeping a close eye on them all as she carefully balanced in her heels. She was not at all good with heels, she usually stuck with flat shoes as much as possible. The flashing lights weren't doing anything to help either, as she carefully inched her way over the narrowed part of the platform. "Just keep calm guys," she called out, desperately trying to keep her balance. "... and try not to step on the mice either."

Meggan scrunched her nose as one of the mice managed to run over her foot, causing her to stumble for a second. A slightly insane feeling gave her the urge to say 'Mice. Why did it have to be mice?' but she held her tongue, and continued to make her way carefully over them and around them. She focused on staying upright, and cringed in disgust as she heard a sickening crunch beneath her right heel. "I think I just stepped on a mouse! I'm not looking..." She tried to reign in her disgust as she managed not to learn if she had indeed killed the mouse, and almost tripped again as a particularly brilliant flash went off nearby. Meggan shook her head, and scooted a little more down the platform.

Ahead, Angel was having some continuing problems with the mice - as in, one had climbed up her leg and was now clinging to her pants. She whimpered and tried so very hard not to flail but it was not going to be an easy thing. As calmly as she could while walking forward, she reached down and swatted it off. Later, when she was off the platform, she'd wonder about the beady red eyes that looked like lasers. Naaah. "Guys? Careful up here, I don't know what's next. It looks clear..."

"You be careful too, Angel..." Amara was busy trying to pick through the mice, but she wasn't having much luck with that either. Just staying balanced in these shoes were hard enough. She'd already kicked one of the mice away determined not to let any of them start climbing up her leg. This was so not cool, holy shit. But all she had to do was get through the mice, and they were almost home free...

Behind them, the unknown young woman brought up the rear and she obviously had a lot more practice than any of the other girls had in heels. The fact that the stage was set up in order to inflict as much physical damage as possible, however, and that was slowing Robin down as much as any of them. "Heel, toe, Robin," she muttered to herself on the thin walkway, arms outstretched to either side. She was concentrating so much on the one section that she failed to notice what any of the three girls were going through. After all, she wasn't a babysitter and they seemed to be fairly confident. Ish.

It was only the soft squeak of something near her foot that brought Robin out of her near trance of concentration. "Squeak?" she asked, raising her head. Not an inch away from her foot stood a very odd looking mouse. She shuddered and kicked it away, watching in satisfaction as it slid right off the runway. Another step, another squeak. Squeaks even. Robin froze as a swarm of seemingly maddened mice skittered from under the runway.

"No, no, no," she said, backing up a step as the first group scampered up her legs. Robin screamed as she flailed, smacking at her legs as the little bastards wormed their way up, and into, her pants. It was like her legs became independent, living beings as she stomped about, jerking in an attempt to be rid of them.

In the front, Angel turned, jaw dropping at the scene. "Can someone - oh god, I can't watch!" She slammed her hands over her eyes as the fourth member of the party pitched headfirst into the platform where she was promptly completely covered in writhing little mice bodies. Angel didn't see Robin roll off and disappear.

"Robin--!" Amara had heard her start to freak out about the mice and turned to try and help her, but she was pretty much too late. Robin had rolled off the runway, bourne under by the sheet mass of mice all over her. "Oh god oh god oh god," she muttered under her breath, trying not to freak out too much. She had just. Robin had. Oh God.

"Angel, Meggan, we have to keep going. Quickly. We..." Amara started moving again, trying to get away from the remaining mice and to the end of the runway as quickly as possible. "We just have to get to the end, and this is over. There's not much runway left at all."

Feeling sick, Angel shuffled back around and headed towards the end of the runway. No going up in flames and roasting the place, she reminded herself, forcing herself to concentrate. One foot in front of the other, that was it.

***

"What I want to know is where in hell this guy found a pair of size thirteen heels," Lil muttered to the two girls flanking her. "Just... keep your chin up and ignore the flashbulbs. We're all models; even you LongHairedBoy," she said to the wobbly teenager who'd finally shut up about having to wear the shoes. "We got the legs and the height, well most of us anyway; we should be showing everyone else how to do this." Heels weren't included in her wardrobe for a reason but if she had to keep her head together for the others. "We got this, gals - and guy who looks like a gal."

"Catseye has never worn pointyshoes before, Catseye does not... like them one little bit, not at... not at all!" the catgirl whined, eyes darting about as she watched the mice. "Catseye does not even... like regular lacesshoes!" She had enough trouble with coordination as a human without adding high heels into the mix. "But Catseye wants out so Catseye will...." She kept getting distracted by the mice that were running around. They looked so juicy.

Though she wasn't quite used to heels of this height and pointedness, the year of walking in practically nothing but heels (thanks to her female cousins and aunts) afforded Callie a slight edge. Even then that was a stretch. Navigating cobbled alleys was nothing in comparison to the task in front of her, but at least she would be able to keep her balance somewhat. She watched while Catseye struggled with getting distracted by the mice circling her feet. "You can do it Catseye," she called out ahead of her, all the while praying that she wouldn't be forced to navigate a maze of dead mice.

Lil kept an eye on the girls over her shoulder while serving as scout and leader though the crazy obstacle course. "You're doing great, Fuzzball," she told Catseye then glanced at Callie and gave her a nod. "You, too. Just keep ignoring the photogs - and the rodents - and we'll be good." Her gaze fell on the boy, her mouth opening to say something to him but the giantess snapped her jaw shut and looked back at the runway instead. "They're just Mickey and Minnie and their extended family," the blonde continued, trying to talk her troupe through any discomfort or fear... or in Cats' case, hunger. God help them, if she had to pick up the girl and haul her away from a feline's fast food heaven, she would. "Ignore them."

Catseye nodded emphatically, trying to obey Lil's order, but the mice were so tempting. She managed to step successfully down the first stretch of the runway, through the narrow bit, but the creatures were scurrying about and wriggling and Catseye didn't even know if they were real mice because they didn't smell like mice usually smelled, but they moved like real mice, and if she caught one, she could confirm whether or not they were real. Distracted from her true objective to make her way down the catwalk, the purplehaired girl shifted to catform and pounced, catching a rodent in her jaws. Her momentum caused her to skid a couple feet, onto the clear section of runway and she felt a section of the platform tilt beneath her. She tried to curl up as small as possible in the middle of the platform, but her original force has made it tilt too far and she began to slide. Her claws scrabbled on the surface, desperate to find a purchase, but there was none, and she slipped off the side and into the oblivion below.

"Catseye!" Came the desperate call from behind the fallen girl. Callie sped through the mice, not caring if she hit one or not, toward where Catseye was. She watched as the feline form clawed and fought to hang on, hoping that she would somehow find a way to restore balance to the tile. Alas, the struggle proved fruitless and as the purple cat disappeared into the abyss, Callie felt her heart fall. It wasn't fair for them to lose her like that. Callie could not tear her eyes away from the spot where she saw Catseye go down, wishing that somehow the furry purple head would emerge once more. "Lil," she called ahead. "Wh-What do we do?"

Head whipping around at Callie's cry, Lil watched helplessly as Catseye disappeared. "Fuzzball!" she hollered as she charged the place where the purple-haired girl had slipped off the runway. Tiles tilted and shifted beneath her, causing the giantess to stumble then fall. With a curse, instead of trying to regain her footing, she combat crawled the rest of the way, spreading her weight out until she was able to peer over the edge but could see nothing beyond the blinding flashes that popped in the darkness. "Fuck," Lil cursed again, slamming her hands against the floor then sat up and looked at her two remaining teammates. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," the teenaged boy replied from where he stood, shrugging.

"I wasn't asking you, LongHairedBoy."

"Wes. My name is Wes. Stop calling me that," he snapped back.

Lil's eyes narrowed and she carefully got back to her feet only to tower over the boy. "Don't give me lip or I'm gonna feed you to the rats. Callie," she said, turning back to the other student, "Did you see what caused her to fall?"

Mice were crawling on her now, not just over her toes but up the sides of her leg. Callie shook them off briskly, causing several of the creatures to fall over the side of the catwalk and follow Catseye. She looked up at the towering blonde, trying to fight back tears. "She... she changed into a cat to get the mice but she lost control and it looked like she slid to where you are and she had no balance so the tile started to tilt and..." Callie paused and took a deep breath. "And she fell. I don't see her."

Biting her lip, the Amazon looked once more at where Catseye had fallen then grabbed Wes by the scruff of his neck and extended a hand to Callie. Lil refused to lose anyone else and while she was fond of the Fuzzball, there was absolutely nothing that could be done now to save her. They had no choice but to keep going. "Come on. We're doing the rest of this together. No one else is going down - 'cept maybe you, LongHairedBoy if we gotta make a sacrifice," she amended, quickly "We're off to see the Tyra, girl and boy, and if I gotta click these heels to get us home, we better get a move on."

***

Yvette stared about her in bewilderment, wobbling as she tried to find a way to make her feet work in the shoes she'd been forced into. "I don't like this," she quavered, looking rather like a deer in the headlights as the spotlights came down to illuminate "their" runway. She began backing up as much as she could, despite the lack of room and potential risk to those around her as her hair hardened into dangerous looking spikes.

Inez frowned, trying to fit her feet into the shoes. She did NOT wear heels, it was a rule. Easing past Yvette, she tried to balance on her toes and shuffled forward like the world's most awkward ballerina. "Fuck it," she growled, "if we gotta be supermodels, I'm gonna be goddamn fantastic. And when we get through this, I am going to fiercely rip robo-Tyra into little bitty parts." She kept shuffling forward, arms out for balance, cursing with each shaky step.

Jean-Paul crouched down as close to Yvette as he dared, watching as Inez inched out onto the catwalk, her progress slow and graceless, but fairly stable. Blows to his dignity aside, he was not terribly worried about this course -- decent reflexes, plus acrobatic training and flight made it seem far less intimidating that it might have been. He was more worried about the small, red girl cringing beside him. He did not think that their captor would allow non-participants to live very long. "Yvette, you will go out next, all right? That way Inez will be before you and I will be behind you if anything should happen. You won't be out there on your own." Or mostly, anyway. There was the stretch in the middle...

Yvette gulped and nodded. "I will try," she replied, trying to pull herself upright, against her body's natural inclination. Wincing at every step as the shoes forced her to balance on her long toes, she tottered forward, blinking in the harsh lights.

The last member of the group groaned. "Oh man, this bites," complained Gary, looking down at the heels he'd had to put on. "How do chicks wear these, any way?"

"Hush." Jean-Paul was in no mood to entertain the boy's griping. Inez seemed to be picking up confidence, but Yvette was already wobbling badly. He swore under this breath, eyes flicking across the runway. Heading out after her too soon would only mean two people trying not to tilt the the balance portions of the course instead of one, making it that much more difficult to complete. He watched the girl stumble forward another foot or two, then finally stood to head out after her, turning his head to give Gary a quick, "Stay close" before he hit the runway. The flashbulbs and strobes were not an issue; he'd learned to ignore distracting lighting years ago. However, he quickly found that, even though the shoes he'd been assigned more or less fit, they were not equipped to bear his weight; the left heel snapped off clean before he'd taken five steps and if he'd been putting less weight on the balls of his feet, he would have pitched off the narrowing runway.

"I am going to put this Arcade through a wall before we get out of here," he muttered, regaining his balance.

"Wait, she just said we have to make it across, right?" Inez asked, balancing in the lead. "She never said walk."

Inez held her arms out for balance, then leaned forward on her hands and carefully tilted forward into a handstand. "How embarrassing is it that this is easier than walking in heels?" she asked as she scooted hand-over-hand along the narrowest part of the runway until it widened again and she rolled onto her butt and turned to face the others. "Piece of cake!"

Seeing Inez make the other side seemed to give Yvette some heart - she took a breath and continued on, practically tiptoeing, arms flung out for balance. At last she made it to the widening side, falling forward on her knees. Then she looked up at Inez, squinting in the bright lights and grinned just the tiniest bit. "The piece of cake, yes!" she agreed in a shaking voice. The mice running around her didn't seem to bother her - she knew if they got onto her skin, they'd learn pretty quickly that was a bad idea.

The fact that there hadn't been any retaliation for Inez's unorthodox method of conquering the catwalk was encouraging, but not enough to tempt Jean-Paul to try flight. Unsurprisingly, he didn't trust their tormentor to reward creative solutions to his traps. He glanced over his shoulder at the boy, who seemed to be doing well enough, and headed across the last section of the balance beam and back onto more stable ground.

"Hey guys, wait up!" Gary called plaintively. Despite his complaints, however, he managed the narrow section and joined them on the other side, grinning broadly. "Whose house? My house!" he declared. Unfortunately, he wasn't looking where he was stepping, and there was a sad little squeak as he crushed a mouse underfoot. "Ew, gross!"

"DUDE!" Inez lunged forward as she saw Gary tip backwards towards the edge. She managed to get him back onto the platform only barely before they all regrouped and looked at the second part of the runway. "Mice? Seriously, yo. Weak."

"Maybe they are thinking we are to be scared of them?" Yvette suggested, but quietly. She didn't really want things to get harder. The shoes still hurt her feet, after all. Oh well, nothing for it but to continue - she started tentatively down the runway. Almost at once the flashbulbs increased in frequency, the spotlights swinging down to target the small red girl. With a cry, she flung her arm over her face, teetering blindly towards the edge of the runaway and the unknown darkness below.

"Yvette -- !" A second's thought would have brought with it the reminder that trying to catch the razor-sharp girl bare-handed was a bad idea. It took less time than that for Jean-Paul to fly to the girl's side and make a grab for her shirt. His complete attention was on his student and his hopes that the fabric would hold long enough for them to get back to solid ground. He didn't notice the crackle of electricity that arced out of the glaring lights overhead and hit the stage his feet had left an instant earlier. The second taser jolt caught him square in the small of the back, sending both speedster and passenger tumbling off the catwalk and out of sight.

Inez yelped and skidded on her belly towards the edge of the catwalk. "Hold my feet!" she shouted at Gary as she leaned as far over the edge as she could, looking for Jean-Paul and Yvette. "Oh shit you guys where are you?"

"They're gone," Gary said, staring wide-eyed at where Jean-Paul and Yvette had disappeared. "Just like that guy said, they're dead, they have to be." He clutched at Inez spasmodically. "What do we do? How're we going to get out of this?"

"Hey hey HEY!" Inez yelped, swatting at Gary's grabby hands. "Watch the hands, mister. Don't get all - EXCUSE ME!" she bellowed as the panicking guy turned the clutch into a full-out grope. Irritated, Inez shoved at his chest - a bit too hard, as he skidded backwards head over heels, directly over the edge of the runway.

Gary hung in midair for a second almost like Wile E Coyote, then dropped off into the darkness. Inez just stared, then slapped a hand over her face. "Well, shit."

***

Arthur had charged onto the runway with an unexpected show of confidence and seemed to doing remarkably well, all things considered. Zanne had hung back, letting Julian and Tat step onto the runway ahead of her so that she could see if they needed help, although she wasn't sure how much she'd be able to offer while strapped into five inch heels. "It's going to be okay," she murmured to the kids as they passed her, giving their hands a reassuring squeeze.

Tatiana stared at the mice - for all that she had on heels that she was pretty sure defeated the laws of physics, and she'd only worn heels once - she kept stopping, staring at the mice, before taking the tiniest, tiniest step forward. She couldn't step on one. If they ran over her feet- Well, she'd deal, and if they bit her she didn't care (mostly), but if she stepped on one- Inch by inch, she crept down the narrowest part of the runway, her focus on that section stopping her from over-compensating and falling.

"You've got to be kidding me," Julian said, as he watched Tatiana take her first steps onto the catwalk. The first few steps had been taken on shaky legs, partly because it had been a long time since he walked in heels and partly because his head was still throbbing. He certainly wasn't going to tell anyone about the Halloween costumes he and his friends had worn to the 'Classics of Hollywood' party a couple years ago. The one and only time he'd been in heels seemed to be coming in quite useful as he took his first steps onto the narrow catwalk- the thousands of flashbulbs exacerbating the stabbing pain in his gray-matter. 'And this is all my fault,' Julian thought, 'if I hadn't won this...that...contest...'.

Stepping cautiously onto the runway, Zanne followed the two teens though the mice and onto a clear section of runway flooring. The panels wobbled alarming beneath her feet, and when she looked down she could see them gaping under her weight, and found herself staring into a dark void. "Everyone watch where you put your feeee--!" Zanne's voice shot up at the end into a quiet shriek and one of the panels slid sideways, causing her to go down on one knee.

Heels were not his thing, "Careful, kid," Arthur slowly halted the slow progress he'd been making, throwing off what little momentum he'd been building. The heels were a challenge alone, walking the runway like so many of the models he'd had lustful fantasies of over the years seemed like some sort of hellish, ironic punishment. "If I get out of this alive, I'm gunna kill that guy."

Tat balked at the stage with the mice, her pulse jumping in her throat. "Zanne?" Her voice was a squeak, one marked with a thread of panic. "I don't know if I can do this." She didn't. How- She was unstable at best and all it would take is one-

"Tatiana, you can do this," Julian could see the tension building up within his friend. "Don't stop, they'll get out of the way." For a moment, he thought of using his powers to sweep the mice off the runway and into the abyss below, but he still lacked control and was just as libel to sweep Tatiana in with them.

"Just hold on, Tat. We'll get out of this." Zanne pushed herself back up onto her feet. "Julian, if I go up and freeze Tatiana, can you do something about the mice?"

"Um," he didn't really understand how her powers worked, but she seemed fairly sure of herself. "Yeah, sure, go for it." Julian began to take deep breaths, preparing to concentrate on sweeping the mice away.

"Okay." Zanne crept up the runway to stand behind the visibly panicked girl. Murmuring quiet words of encouragement, she carefully set a narrow freeze around them." Now, Julian!" she called, hoping that one he managed to sweep them, no more would follow.

On her command, Julian pushed down and to either side of the runway in a sweeping motion in front of Tatiana. Fortunately, the runway held against his powers and the mice tumbled down over the sides and into the darkness below. He repeated the process behind her, not wanting to have his friend caught by the sweep. The only remaining mice were frozen around Tatiana's feet, "Okay, here it goes," he thought about Nathan's lesson in the quarry and concentrating on their tails. He plucked as many of the mice off as he could, sending them flying into the distant flash bulbs. Julian only understood the basics of Tatiana's powers, but he knew enough that he shouldn't let any of the mouse blood get on her. "I don't think I can get anymore- they're too close to her."

Zanne nodded and let go of the freeze. The few mice that had been caught in it, scurried on as if nothing had happened. "Do you think you can go on now?" she asked the girl.

"Y-Yes," she said, her face pale as she stepped -carefully, her ankles and calves throbbing, the few mice much easier to avoid then the bunch of them would have been. "Thank you-" She couldn't really express how grateful she was, not and keep walking.

Julian faltered once before continuing smoothly- or as smoothly as he could. Precision telekinesis still took a lot out of him and he'd had to be extra careful not to make the mice explode. Despite the slight exhaustion he slowly approached the few remaining pests he hadn't been able to peg off. Glaring at them, Julian cast them off the side with a quick thought and pressed on.

***

He'd expected a longer fall, somehow.

Striking the edge of the trap door caused at least cleared the last of the buzzing from Jean-Paul's head, but it caused him to lose his hold on Yvette, and then they were falling again...no, sliding down a slick, seamless surface with no fingerholds. Jean-Paul managed to focus enough to fly, halting his fall, but before he could move in either direction, there was a brief shunk in the dark, the sound of the doors overhead closing on them. There was a squeal of metal somewhere below his feet and then no noise aside from two sets of hard breathing and the distant hum of machinery, more felt than heard.

"Yvette?" His head was throbbing from where he'd hit it, and there was a faint, stinging pain across the heel of his right hand but he felt reasonably intact. He still couldn't see a damn thing, though. "Are you all right?"

"I-I think so?" She sounded unsure and then a faint blue glow filled the small space as she opened her eyes. "Are you being all right, Mr. Beaubier? I did not cut you?"
That would explain the pain in his hand, but until he could get a look at it, there was no use worrying about it or worrying her.

"I don't think so. Wait there a moment. I am going to try and get those doors open." He flew up carefully, using his fingertips to trace his progress along the wall of the narrow chute until he reached the closed doors. They were solidly shut and he could feel no mechanism for opening them. Punching through wasn't going to be an option; there wasn't nearly enough room to build up that kind of velocity. "No luck. It looks as if we are going to have to head down. Do you think you can climb?"

"I think so. I will just..." There was a pause and then a metallic clang as Yvette punched one hand into the side of the chute, closing her hand into a fist and then letting her weight hang from that hand as she worked off the stupid shoes. There was a rattle as first one, then the other, bounced down into the unknown depths. Her socks were slipped off next, but these she tucked into her pocket in case she needed them later. "There," she said with some satisfaction, wriggling her poor, abused toes and then using all four limbs to stablise herself. "I will go first, yes? That way I will not be hurting you if I slip and you can be catching the back of my shirt." In contrast to the frightened, confused girl of the runway, confidence was seeping into Yvette's voice - here was something she could do.
It didn't sit right at all to have the girl heading into danger first, but Yvette's points were valid.

"All right. If there's anyone at the other end of this, they will hear us coming. As soon as we see what's waiting, we go on the offensive."

The descent was slow; the angle of the chute was very steep, but didn't offer anything else in the way of cover. By the time the pair finally saw light below, it came with a pair of pincer-fitted tendrils waiting patiently at the base of the chute for something to drop down to them.

Jean-Paul frowned. "Let me go out first. If they try to catch me, they will be distracted when you come out."

Yvette opened her mouth to protest, but simply nodded, squeezing back against the wall as much as she could to let Jean-Paul pass. The climb had been arduous and she was still catching her breath. The spikes of her hair, stiffened beyond their normal setting, scraped against the metal chute. "I think maybe I can be cutting them?" she suggested, not sure of how tough the metal was. It obviously was flexible enough for movement - hopefully that would be its weakness. Kevin had taught her a lot about the qualities of metal and sculpture, but she never expected to be using it like this. "Please to be careful, Mr. Beaubier."

"You don't need to worry about that." A point in their favor: the pincer grips were padded, not sharp -- the devices were meant to restrain whatever came down the chute instead of kill it. That gave them some leeway if things went poorly. A moment later, Jean-Paul had blasted past the devices. He heard one strike the floor, having grabbed at him and missed. He twisted and braked in mid-air for a split second, taking a moment to glimpse his surroundings.

Containment area with four cells, fronted with reinforced shatter-resistant glass. Control bank. Three tendrils on ceiling rails, moving in tandem and all very much focused on him. Jean-Paul flitted in close, striking at one sinuous machine with the edge of his left hand. His powers protected him from the high-velocity impact, though he felt the sting of it up through his arm. The blow only scored the tendril instead of severing it, causing the damaged machine to flail wildly as the other two came to bear on the speedster. He moved out of range again, baiting them away from the chute exit.

Which was Yvette's cue. She let herself slide head first the last few feet towards the end of the chute, before thrusting her toes into the walls to slow her descent. The remaining set of pincers at the mouth of the chute pause, unsure of the information it was receiving - movement had been detected in the chute, but there was no body to grab. The hesitation was enough - two sets of razor-sharp talons raked through the tendril, laying open the metal shell and severing most of the machinery inside. It hung limply as Yvette peered out of the chute, taking everything in. The control bank would be the sensible target, but she wasn't sure how to get across to it without being grabbed. And somehow she didn't think she could convince Mr. Beaubier to throw her the way Inez had in New York.

Jean-Paul took an instant to follow Yvette's gaze and nodded. Smart girl. Best give her room to work.

He moved in close to the tendrils again, flitting here and there, striking them and then evading. He couldn't take them down quickly, not when he had to concentrate on dodging so many blows, but he could make it too costly for them to ignore him and turn their focus to Yvette.

Okay, it was now or never - she nodded back at her teacher and sucked in a breath before dropping to the floor and scurrying across to the control bank as fast as she could, keeping as low as possible. Fortunately her small stature helped - one of the pincers made a swipe at her, but misjudged, and she was over to the controls even as Jean-Paul was distracting it again. There was another slight pause as she braced herself for the sensation of having however many volts of electricity running through her and then she plunged both hands into the control bank, setting her teeth against the jarring tingle as she short-circuited everything inside.

The pincered machines dropped abruptly as the lights flickered, dimmed, then cut out altogether. Dim back-up lighting came up in moments, giving the speedster enough light to navigate by. He was at his student's side in a moment, checking her over as best he could. He wasn't aware that he was holding his breath until she looked up and got to her feet.

"We should get moving," he said quietly, "before someone comes to check out the commotion. There are only four cells here; he must be planning to hold any others that fall elsewhere."
She nodded, shaking the tingling out of her hands. If her hair wasn't already standing on end, it would be after that. "And if that is so, we can help them escape also, yes?" she suggested.

Jean-Paul nodded. "Precisely. Or at least dismantle any more of these blasted things that we come across. Let's go."