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DEAN EVERETT. outdoor poolside, 9 pm.
something is off.
it isn’t pertinent enough that it changes his course of actions but just so the fact of it lingers in the forefront of his mind, dangling from the side... in other words, just enough to ruin a perfectly good moment between man, nature, and his tobacco habit.
dean’s brow furrows and his eyes narrow at the night sky as he props his elbows behind him on the fence to support his weight, lips curled around his lit cigarette and he thinks: could he just have forgotten to do something? you know, the usual trope: left the oven on, didn’t lock his door behind him, or maybe he left his keys somewhere? that’s what seems most likely and reason suggests that he ought to just forget about it, he’ll be done in a few minutes time anyways. even if there was a fire, he lives in a house of superheroes, does he not? they’ll, like, take care of it. he’s sure. probably. the thought prompts a light chuckle out of him and with that rises the smoke that leaves him and he watches it go. his eyes glaze over, prompt his eyelids half shut, and the corners of his mouth rise into his signature grin.
he lets his eyes shut all the way and simultaneously exhales the weight of the day from the bottom of his chest and he relaxes, wholly, for the first time since sun up. such a moment is rare for someone like him, you know, but he won’t mention it to anyone: it’s not like everyone around here isn’t in the same situation.
he doesn’t know where he goes when his eyes close and he doesn’t care. all he can think about is the breeze of early summer whistling against his cheek and as the moon rises and the distant murmur of the constant commotion inside the building -- the sound of home. even when it comes time to ash his cigarette, he simply lets it fall to the ground without opening his eyes and smothers it with his foot. when he does open his eyes, it’s only because he’s expelling the last of the smoke of the cigarette and he always watches it go up. always. once the smoke clears dean is left with the sight of an unusual amount of the stars for being so close to new york city and the view calms a part of him he didn’t know could be so soothed. if he could stay here the whole night, he would, he thinks.
FINN CARSON. security lab, 9.15 PM.
overwhelmed and left winded from the happenings of the last twenty four-some hours, finn stumbles and he lands into his seat ( he thanks every higher power that could possibly exist that the chair was exactly where it was and that his legs gave out exactly where they did ) with absolutely no intention to do anything than his job: watch, maintain. weapon refining could wait for the morning, and so could his dozens of side projects -- for someone who didn’t sleep very much, he can’t believe he’s never felt as tired as he does in this moment. honestly, he has to have passed this point before? then again, all nighters surrounded by his army of machines within the comfort of his lab was a whole other type of tired than negotiating, off base, with the actual leaders of everett. the ones who never showed their damn faces and shoved all the actual work off on him -- those ones. this type of tired is from the bottom of the very soul.
as if on exact cue with his muscles relaxing into his chair -- and not a second more to spare, mind you -- the absolute worst case scenario happens, and the aforementioned soul of his leaves his body in time with his heart dropping to his stomach.
all systems down.
his seeing eye ( as he likes to call it -- robot eye just seems a little... tacky? ) whirs and it adjusts to night vision as darkness falls around him and the recruit sitting next to him, but finn takes an entire five seconds to process the fact that his system has been shut off. more than that, it’s not coming back on. none of the back ups are. mind you, this didn’t just mean power: if all of the backups were down, then there was a high chance that the rest of the security was down, too... and that was impossible. he can’t wrap his head around it. his system is more than just advanced, it’s magically protected -- there was no way to stop it unless he willed it, and he sure as hell didn’t, so that leaves the question of who. a question that strikes fear, the rawest and realest he’s ever felt it, into the pit of his stomach and all throughout him.
it takes everything in his power to lift his wrist with the communications ‘watch’ to his mouth and attempt to contact violet, elliot, remy, anyone else but every channel he tries to tune into is static, static, static. with no ability to reach anyone and hand out instructions, finn’s left with only one choice.
ten seconds after the lights go down and not a moment more, the panic aching through every inch of his body fuels him into action and he looks towards his recruit, dusty rhodes. the younger seems unfazed judging by his facial expression alone but finn notices the anxious tap of his foot and he remembers -- hadn’t he been struggling to paint a vision of his earlier? could this be related? unfortunately, he has no time to deliberate and instead barks an order out, filling the shoes of leader for possibly the first time in the two years since stepping into them.
“ listen to me, dustin. you gather every last member of our team and you bring them to the panic room, and you will not leave until instructed. when you find elliot and violet, tell them to do a perimeter immediately and keep doing that. there’s no other explanation -- we’re under attack. when you find remy, alert him that we’re in defense. send your captains, emerson and aurora, here for direct orders from me. when they return to the panic room, they’ll give out individual orders. someone should be on their way here by now, so you’ll only be alone a few seconds. make sure no one is alone, and --” the light of dusty’s mobile phone flashes on finn’s face but he doesn’t flinch. “ grab a weapon next to the door on your way out. i need to get this system back up now,” by the last word, finn is looking his subordinate in the eyes and he takes him by the shoulders, both hands ( metal and organic both ) clasping tightly onto them. “ can you do this? ” he asks, even though the reality of it is that even if dusty can’t, he has to.
there’s no one else.
DUSTY RHODES, VIOLET SULLIVAN. the round up, 9.17 - 9. 20 PM.
what could he have said? no? it was a direct order from the guy in charge of everyone physically here on base and more than that, it was the most important job anyone could’ve been given in this moment: securing the team. the most important job. given to him. dusty, the psychic recruit who had predicted this without even knowing it by painting a pitch black canvas.
yeah, he was the one to be doing this, alright. jesus fucking christ.
in the end, he doesn’t actually say yes or no -- he whispers out the word “ ... shit? ” and then he just nods, grabs his weapon, and darts out of the lab and into the mayhem that is everett headquarters in the dark. immediately he can hear voices, concerned, confused, even a little hostile but they’re too far away and his vision is limited solely to the beam of his cell phone’s flashlight. his body is running on pure adrenaline as he scans each area, growing more frustrated with each room than the last -- the building was a maze that was hard enough to get around when you had the lights on and knew the place, even. and what does dusty have? minimal light, and like, two months of experience here. he knew people on his team who had been here the full two years and still got lost.
heart pumping through his chest and sounding out in his ears like the beat of a drum to the tune of something he doesn’t recognize and based on the terror it strikes through him, he hopes he never comes to be familiar with it. by the third room he resorts to cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out, “ team! who can hear me? come towards my voice, orders from finn! ” as loud as he possibly can, which is louder than even he anticipates. the shock of his own voice brings him to an abrupt stop and within just seconds, one of his supervisors runs up to him: violet.
over the beating of his heart and a vague but still intrusive ring in his ears, he can barely make out her words and it’s then that he realizes something is physically wrong with him -- heart over his chest and breaths coming out in pants, he feels like he can’t catch his breath. his mind is racing with all the what if’s and the guilt of not knowing a thing about this -- not being able to predict this, not being able to do the only thing he could do! short breaths turn into downright wheezing and he doubles over, hands on his knees and his eyes watering. shit. he has to find everyone, give them finn’s orders, and he can’t even speak to the one of what, a billion other team mates? the frustration brings full, genuine tears to his eyes that slip past his eyelids down his cheeks and he shakes vigorously, most notably in the hands on his knees. i’m going to be sick. i can’t breathe. am i choking?
suddenly, hands cup his face and he’s guided gently by the lift of his chin to look at violet and when he does, the fear is painted more vividly in his expression than any other expression he’s had since coming here.
violet hums out a careful ‘ shh ’ and kneels to his level, holding his cheeks still so she can keep his gaze and when she speaks, she does so clearly, calmly, and only after confirming can you hear me? when he nods his head as much as he can in his current position, she whispers, “ good... it’s okay. breathe, baby. i heard you say finn had orders. he wants me and elliot to come to him, right?”
still unable to form a coherent thought, dusty nods in her hands again.
violet strokes his cheek with her thumb and wipes away a stray tear, her hums filling the air again. to the right of them, the team captains and elliot both enter the room with a small herd of other members behind them; by the sight of them, she assumes they were all in the same place. probably a movie. a light of theirs flashes to them and she looks towards it only long enough to communicate: quiet. attention back to dusty, she puts herself in finn’s shoes and measures procedure against that to guess what he said next. “ remy and rory too, right? the captains and supervisors, so he can set a plan? everyone else in the panic room? ”
another nod.
violet smiles softly and she moves her right hand to rub his back over his shoulder and then help him stand, whispering another good job during the transition to the world of the upright. she supports him in the brief moment she has to address who’s there and she shines her own flashlight, immediately beginning to account for who can do what.
“ alright, elliot, remy, rory, go. i’m right behind you,” she assures and they go on without question, leaving her to assess the rest of who’s here: danny, jae-eun, logan, mae, and riley. they’re missing two. dean, flynn. “ danny, mae, and riley, head to the panic room with dusty. jae-eun and logan, you look everywhere for dean and flynn and do not separate. everyone got it? ” violet says, looking at the group firmly and when she receives unanimous understanding, her face softens significantly and she helps dusty regain full balance, who now seems more under control -- although, quite sheepish in front of this new audience. mae keeps him close.
before departing, violet walks backwards towards the direction of the lab and gives them one last look over. “... and be safe, you guys. all hands on deck.” there isn’t time for her to wait for a response but she makes eye contact with each of them individually before turning on her heel.
the group heads to their destination in a huddle and jae-eun and logan split off, side by side to search the remainder of the building.
SUPERVISORS & TEAM CAPTAINS; security lab. 9.21 - 9.22 PM.
violet isn’t far behind the triad headed towards the lab but the amount of paces between them and how long it takes her to fill them is long enough that when she enters the lab, her first step inside is on cue with the lights turning back on. she’s greeted to the sight of finn, hunched over and absolutely drained of all his power -- more than that, she’s never seen him look so defeated.
it breaks her heart.
finn stays hunched in his chair, arm over his stomach and eyes on the ground; he already knows exactly what to order of them, but the energy it required to fuel the magic part of his system is beyond his limits and he is completely winded. 9:15 through 9:21, all systems were down. it took him six minutes to restart it and given the sheer power it took to run all this, that was a miracle. yet, all finn could think about was how it was too long. too long for their defenses to be down.
when he catches his breath by even an inch, he forces out labored speech. “ vi... eli, perimeter. every corner. go. captains...” finn pauses to take a long breath, and he sputters, but he looks up now at him. “ divide into two. remy, you’ll stay in the panic room with the majority of the team... keep them calm. rory, you hit the perimeter with logan, flynn, dean, and jae-eun. be prepared for anything. they got past my system. go.”
there are no questions, and there is absolutely no hesitancy in their obedience. finn turns to the plethora of cameras in front of him and begins scanning them, first confirming whereabouts of his team individually.
he doesn’t think to look outside until it’s too late.
MOST OF THE TEAM. panic room, 9.22 PM.
remy and rory enter the designated waiting area one after the other, the former just a step ahead and they’re greeted to the sight of almost everyone on the couches -- keyword being almost.
emerson’s expression was already deeply set into concern but it reaches a whole new level when he scans the room and counts heads only to find there’s two missing. he looks around, not sure who to question. “ is this... this is everyone you found? we are missing two. WHERE are they? ” he asks, his voice lowering and reaching a level of demanding assertiveness that is unheard of. who can blame him, though? not a single face that looks back at him does. after all, his brother is missing.
when the crowds attention shifts to rory, the same look of sympathy is applied -- dean. the other missing one. her brother.
there’s a moment of silence between all of them, before jae-eun breaks it. her voice is soft, but she says this: “ we couldn’t find them, but... we know they didn’t stay in one place. don’t worry. if anyone can defend themselves, it’s them.” she reasons, and remy looks back at her, unable to refute that. he clears his throat. “ so be it... they are supposed to be on perimeter, anyhow... jae-eun, logan, rory, you are too. find them and then focus on finding our assailant. do not separate. back here in an hour for a progress update. ”
yet again, unanimous understanding is exchanged throughout the room before orders are acted upon.
FLYNN EDWARDS. housing unit, then outdoors, 9.16PM. ****
when the lights go out, flynn is the only one in his designated room within the housing unit building -- which is connected to the main building, yes, but it’s also the only way to get to the main building outside of having a key to the front door ( only the supervisors did )... via technology, via elevator. just as he’s the only one alone, he also happens to be the only one who doesn’t react with panic: and here’s the kicker... it’s not because he’s calm in the face of danger, which is true but it isn’t why he isn’t panicking. he just doesn’t think of the fact that security is down. to him, its a power outage.
to him, it’s a smoke break.
wordlessly, flynn makes his way down the complex stairs and he walks out the back door, around the ‘main’ building and towards the back of that, near the pool. it takes him several minutes to make it around the building and in that moment, he’s in no rush.
if only he knew what was happening at that moment, right where he was going. the pool.
DEAN EVERETT. the poolside, 9.15 - 9. 20 PM.
fifteen minutes have gone by of him standing here, elbows against the fence around the pool with the imprint marks to prove it and he has done nothing but smoke, watch it float, and stargaze. his grin has reached maximum potential at this point and he’s thinking about how he should drop by mae’s room maybe, surprise her, but his thoughts are cut off abruptly when the building behind him suddenly isn’t lit, and neither are the outdoor lights around him -- even the pool.
shit?
eyebrows furrowed, dean isn’t immediately aware of what this means -- he knows it’s bad, sure, but his mind doesn’t jump to attack until he hears a foot step, and his heart comes to a stop.
he closes his eyes and with everything he has, he centers himself. just like a mission. it’s nothing, but be prepared, he thinks to himself and when he opens his eyes, he’s in battle mode. “ show yourself, coward, ” he calls mid-scan around the yard around him, wishing he had brought his phone with him. he couldn’t see shit and although it’s not as bad as when he was a little guy, he’s got a whole thing about the dark and associates it with some bad memories -- worst ones he’s got, in fact. the sooner he gets out of here, the better; but moving towards the building could very well be a trap.
little did he know, he was already in the trap.
silence fills the air around him for a full thirty seconds but when that last moment ticks, he hears it. a voice... it’s hard to make out, almost like it’s coming from underwater? but it keeps repeating itself. dean looks towards the pool, which happens to be the only light he has with the moon reflecting off it, and he steps closer, concentrating on listening.
is that any way to speak to your mother? the voice says.
apprehension turns into downright terror when he hears it clearly, because when he does, he knows the voice. he knows the voice, because it’s hers. his mother’s. his dead mother, who he killed -- who was the self proclaimed ‘queen’ of the water, and who was the reason he was afraid to swim. but she’s dead, so it can’t be her. he knows that. but as he stares from a distance at the ripples, he can’t help walking forward. he knows it isn’t her, but he has to look. he has to look up close, he has to make sure it isn’t. killing her had been an accident in self defense, but it was the reason he was still alive. her being back... it just wasn’t an option.
when he reaches the edge of the pool, he squats down and looks into the water, but all he can make out is his own reflection. yet, the mantra repeats over and over, louder now that he’s closer. the lower he squats, the louder it is and the slower he lowers himself -- it’s not real, it’s not real. eyes wide open, he stares at his reflection unrelentingly, leaning over it and getting closer, closer. the voice is getting even louder and he wants to stop with every fiber of his being, but he has to know.
reaching a hand towards the water, he lowers it until his finger is hovering just above it and that’s when he feels something is really wrong; that’s when he goes to pull his arm back, but his reflection changes right before his eyes into the very person he sought to prove dead: his mother. dean’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to scream but nothing comes out -- not of his mouth. her reflection is broken by her coming out from underneath it, seizing him by the wrist and pulling him until hes half at danger of falling in.
this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening. he’s had this nightmare a thousand times over, it isn’t real! it can’t be? but if it can’t be, then why does he feel the concrete of the edge of the pool scraping his stomach? why does... why does she stop? usually, at this point in the dream, she pulls him under and it’s over. but she’s looking at him in the eyes and squeezing his arm, twisting it back, hovering him just an inch above the water.
from the outside point of view, there is no woman. it looks as though dean has twisted his own arm and he’s laying on his stomach, trying to put his head in the water but just hovering, frozen in fear. but no one’s there to see it except for the assailant himself, shrouded by bushes and focusing all his fear manipulation energy on the boy in front of him; the bastard child of the love of his life, the killer of her. caesar was his name, and he was behind the system shut down -- as it turns out, he followed the one named finn home and use his power to make his fear a reality: system shut down. the perfect distraction to get rid of the one he was actually after. dean everett. although the projection of his beloved wasn’t in fact her, the effects were real. the boy’s arm was really breaking, and he was really going to go under.
dean looks into his mother’s eyes and his lip quivers but he can’t say anything -- the only sound he makes is the whimpering that comes out when she twists his arm beyond it’s limits, but that comes to a stop when her other hand reaches past him, beyond the pool edge, and into his pocket. when she takes it out, she takes his pocket knife with her and opens it inches before his face.
this is when dean starts to struggle, coming to the realization that this isn’t a nightmare -- his arm is broken and she’s going to kill him with his own knife, ghost or not. “ you can’t! you’re dead! ” he argues, his pleas falling on deaf ears; or, dead, actually. she doesn’t react to him in any way because she’s an illusion with a mission: a real life nightmare written by caesar. dean comes close to escaping her grasp but as if a warning to stop moving, he’s sliced on the cheek; the cut is deep and vertical, only centimeters away from his eye. there’s a million fighting tactics he should be able to use, a million he is able to use, but how can he? it’s her. the most he can do is push, push, push away and once he’s cut, he’s completely frozen and even closer to the water. he looks down and widens his eyes when the end game here is realized -- her finishing what she started when he was so young -- and the second he looks away from her, he’s stabbed.
the knife leaves. it happens again. and then again. and once more, but the fourth is the last; after that, her arms wrap around him and she plunges downward full force, taking him with her.
FLYNN EDWARDS, poolside. 9.21 PM.
flynn rounds the corner just in time to see the lights come on from inside and he groans outwardly, exasperated that he’s spent this entire time walking around only for there to be nothing to complain about anymore and he’s about to phase into anger, but something peculiar catches his eye out the peripheral. with the lights around the pool shining down on the water he can see... bubbles? really big ones, even from a distance. he doesn’t know what it is about this observation that strikes him as urgent but he teleports via flame to inspect at the pools edge, and what he sees when he looks down is his team mate, dean, drowning -- bleeding, too.
caesar is long gone, but flynn’s immediate reaction isn’t to fight anyways; before he’s even thinking of options, his body is in the water and he’s plunging down towards the smaller male to get him. he wraps his arms around him all of the way and he springs upward, getting him as quickly over the edge of the pool as physically possible. reviving him is a sequence of adrenaline that if asked later, flynn wouldn’t remember; it isn’t until he’s coughing out the water that things slow down and by that point, all he can see is the blood. it’s all over him, it’s all over dean, it’s on the concrete and all he can do is try to stop the bleeding -- that he uses his shirt for, propping the other up in his arms and holding it to the wounds from behind as a head of blond, wet hair lay against his collar bone. dean shakes in his arms with a ferocity and he sputters out words but they don’t form correctly, his gaze set on nothing ahead of him, the effect of caesar’s attack yet to fade -- and it wouldn’t for a few hours.
flynn removes his glove from his hand and tosses it aside, paying no mind to the fact that the marks are exposed as he brushes dean’s hair out of his face and holds the shirt keeping his wound closed as tightly as he can. beyond this, he isn’t medically trained and he doesn’t think moving him further is the right thing to do but he quickly remembers the camera, as well as the sound surveillance and he hopes to god that finn is nearby the control room.
“ hey! we need help out here! ”
TEAM. panic room, 10:00pm.
the perimeter search comes up blank and almost forty minutes after the incident, the entire team ( minus finn, who has set to improve an already perfect security system, struck with grief and guilt ) of everett is gathered in the safest room of the building, absolutely silent in mutual shock and general anxiety. although the attack wasn’t fatal and dean lay in recovery to the far right of the room with both mae and flynn at his side, the wounds were severe and the fact was this: they almost lost a member of their team tonight and they were defenseless, distracted, and vulnerable.
the worst part is that it’s far from over -- in fact, no one’s saying it but this incident sounds like it may be the first of many to come.
#tag later#just for the official part because idk how to tag a drabble that includes Everyone hgfjdks#but more importantly lemme tag tw because boy#tw: smoking#tw: hydrophobia#tw: drowning#tw: abusive parents#tw: blood#tw: violence#tw: anxiety#like theres a description of a panic attack in there#boy oh boy just. be careful pls im so sorry
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