Sean McCline eyed the tight ass not twelve feet in front of him, trying to get his eyes to focus right. Slowly, he straightened out his legs; he'd been sitting on them, a little. It'd been long enough that they'd gone a little stiff and numb.

He rolled his head against the wall behind him, vaguely wondering where he was. He'd flown all last night to escape the kind, suffocating atmosphere that was the Danae household. It was peaceful, it was nice. It was exactly the kind of place he needed, but didn't want.

A small bag sat on the pavement next to him. It was a shopping bag, flimsy and plastic. It held the few personal items he gave a fuck about: photos of his mom, a copy of a Playboy he'd stolen when he was twelve and his mom's favorite necklace.

He needed to move. A sixteen year old kid, no matter how attractive and well-built, and if he was going to continue to act like a runaway, he was going to draw attention to himself. Then they'd call the police, and if he was lucky, they'd ship him off to the Danae's. If he was unlucky, they'd drop him back in Utopia's hands.

Sean moved smoothly to his feet, using his flight more than his legs. That was a mistake; he'd flown all night, and he was still low on energy. He nearly face-planted; the tight assed girl he'd been admiring turned and gaped at him. His behavior made her nervous, his looks made her shy, and she just stared at him, eyes wide.

He smiled a little, a weak effort. Embarrassed, she turned away. Ugly face anyway, Sean grunted to himself, sour-graping his way to a more pessimistic mind-set. It felt good though: comfortable.

That left him standing against the wall of what appeared to be a mall. Now, he wondered where the fuck to go from here. His stomach growled anxiously, and that was when he saw the flaw in his plan; he'd failed to get any money. "I could offer rides," he muttered, "'Five minutes in the air for five dollars.'" It felt like prostitution; it felt like his stomach was about to eat through his backbone. That decided it; with a scowl, he went to find a marker and cardboard for his sign.

The night air was always cooler above building-level. Peter enjoyed it, welcoming the breeze as it seemed to cleanse him of doubts. He soared effortlessly, motes of golden light winking on and off around his body as he headed back to the Galleria to make a start on his last break for a while. He smiled grimly under the blond beard, his pulse quickening slightly as he considered the challenges ahead of him. Part of him knew that the only way he could continue on was by seeking a challenge, some conflict to motivate him and stir the embers of his soul to life. Other motivations currently failed to suffice; did not provide enough oxygen to the fire.

He dropped easily from the sky to the pavement outside the large mall and, heedless of the gasps and stares of others, headed through the large doors. He withdrew the bundle of notes from his pocket and gave them a quick count as he moved through the crowd, which parted somewhat for the impressively built nova.

Plenty of money for food and fun. He mused as he tucked the roll back into his pants pocket. He turned his blue eyes outwards then, looking for the first item on his list. Dooley had said that there were fast-food places that catered to Novas, so this should be easy...

Sean drifted a little closer to the stack of paper at the information kiosk. He debated grabbing one, but to be honest, if he asked, the lady would probably give him one. Sighing, the boy simply stepped up, pasting on a smile. "Hi," he said, leaning against the counter. "I don't suppose that I could borrow some paper and a pen?"

The lady smiled. "Sure," she said, giving him both. Sean thanked her and started to scrawl his sign when she blurted, "Oh, my god! You're the nova that killed all those people!"

Startled, Sean glanced up to see her pointing at him; her phone was in her other hand, and he caught a quick flash of a nova-watching website. Blood rushed to his face; he felt like the entire mall was staring at him.

"What's going on?" a querulous voice snapped. Sean half-turned to see an older man behind him, looking grumpy. "Who killed whom?"

"Excuse me," Sean muttered, backing away from the counter, pen and paper in hand. He wanted to sink into the floor and die.

"He did!" the woman gasped. "And he's stealing my pen."

"What?" Sean stopped automatically, his hand gripping the pen just a bit tighter. "No... I'm just borrowing it for a second, to make a sign."

"Look, just give her back her pen," the guy said.

"Hey, leave Sean alone," a younger man said, approaching the group. "The deaths at the hospital were an accident. Quit hounding him, nova-haters!"

"Nova-hater? Young man, I have no idea what you're talking about!" the old guy said. "I just stumbled into this conversation."

It was a nightmare. Flustered, Sean tried to back away, only to have the woman start screaming about her pen. Angrily, he tossed it back at the counter - only to have it sail over the counter, the kiosk and the potted plant display behind it and disappear somewhere. He left with her still screaming and the argument between the guys escalating.

The paper went into a trash can, thrust with a gesture of anger. Miserable, Sean sank onto a bench, put his head in his hands and tried to calm down.

Raised voices, the shouting, and the sense of panic in the air drew Peter's attention. At first he thought a robbery or some such was in progress, so strident were the voices. He saw a redheaded boy duck away from a kiosk, a woman pointing at him and insisting that he was some kind of "killer nova".

Curious now, his blue eyes followed the boy as he disappeared into the crowd on the promenade, only to stop a short distance away and sit down, fairly radiating misery and despair. He recognised the features from a T.V report that had aired while he was still in Parkhurst prison. Sean... Sean McCline. I wonder what he's doing here... The tall nova's train of thought broke off as he took in several things. Firstly, the boy's road-worn appearance and obvious distress, and secondly, the two uniformed guards moving towards the younger nova with an interrogatory glint in their eye. One was moving forward, the other hanging back slightly with one hand on his radio switch, ready to cover and call for aid if necessary.

He didn't know why he did it, but the British nova angled towards the contact zone. Something about the kid's apparent plight was touching his sense of fairness or justice. Someone that miserable doesn't need official hassles; and don't I know it. He saw the on-target guard step closer to Sean and heard him speak.

"Excuse me, son?" The guard had a job to do, but his voice was nevertheless softened by some concern. Sean looked up, his eyes widening momentarily as he fought back panic. Oh shit! Stay calm! Keep cool! Maybe they're just bored. He kept the adrenaline surge of his fright from making him bolt immediately, but the young runaway was tired, starving, and on the verge of breaking. His eyes darted a little before he got a grip, and out of the corner of his vision, he saw a large blond man who looked as though he was bearing down on the group. Then he focused on the guard.

"Yeah?" He tried to sound cool, like maybe he was waiting for someone or something like that, but even as it came out Sean knew he sounded and looked nervous. The guard wasn't fooled, he saw immediately.

"You better come with me, son." The guard started to reach forward, and Sean tensed to run. Low on juice or not, he would bust out of there. I'm not fucking going back.

"Sean!" A powerful baritone voice said from behind the guard. Sean gaped as the guard jerked his hand back and straightened to see who had spoken. The tall blond man, with a demeanour and confidence that fairly screamed 'nova', was stepping around the guard and intersposing himself in the conference, his mere presence forcing the guard to turn slightly and back up to maintain equilibrium. The blond guy glanced at him, then at Sean, sapphire-blue eyes glinting in a bearded face.

"There you are, boy. You were supposed to wait at the bus terminal. Bah, I was late, so the fault's as much mine." Feigning good-humored grumpiness, he reached out and ruffled Sean's hair. "You've grown, nephew. I nearly didn't recognise you." Peter's gaze was cautionary as it bored into Sean's green eyes, then he turned to the open-mouthed guard, who was trying to gather his composure in the face of the tall nova's imposing presence. "Is there a problem here?" Peter asked the guard, no open threat there in his voice or posture, but the question nevertheless had overtones that there had better not be.

"Uh... No sir." The guard backed up slightly. "You see, we... um, that is the mall, have a problem sometimes with vagrants in here. But if this kid's with you, that's no problem. None at all." He smiled and backed away in the face of Peter's friendly smile.

"Glad to hear it." The big nova said quietly as he turned back to Sean and winked. "Come on, Sean. Let's get you something to eat."

It was his first day in the Rashoud facility all over again. The anger hidden behind a veneer of authority, people hassling him when he just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to lash out at the security guards; he wanted to make them shut up forever. All he wanted as to be left alone.

Just as he was sure he'd have to run again, the Thor-guy had shown up and rescued him. It was odd, watching authority melt in the face of a firm adult - I've got to learn how to do that, Sean told himself, feeling his racing heart calm and the shakiness leave his limbs. It left him feeling more tired than before.

Numbly, Sean rose, stumbling a little from a mixture of shock and loss of adrenaline. Head down, he cautiously followed the large, golden-haired man, wondering if he was in a better or worse position than before. His plastic bag swung against his side, bouncing off his legs rhymthmically.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the security guards pacing behind them, trailing with a contrived casuallness. Grimacing, he fell into step with the guy. "Um. Thanks. That was cool of you," he said uneasily. He wasn't getting a pedophile vibe off this guy, but he remained cautious. Strangers didn't just walk up and defend you. "We might need to go outside to shake those guys. They seem pretty persistant, without being persistant enough to tell them to b- fuck off."

The curse word had been deliberate. Sean wanted to be very clear to this guy that he wasn't a push over or a victim. He could kidnap some other teen nova if he was into that.

Peter grinned slightly as he looked sideways and down at Sean. The grin wasn't cheerful or joyous, but there was a grim humor there matched by the calm glint in his eye.

"They won't do anything except watch us." he said with reassuring certainty in his deep voice. "They get paid to prevent trouble and catch shoplifters. As long as we endanger no-one and don't steal anything, they won't risk their necks or their paychecks: it'd just be making trouble for the mall."

He glanced around. "Ah, this place looks promising." The large nova waved Sean to follow him. 'Juggz', the sign above the door proclaimed, along with signs in the window indicating that this 'family friendly' establishment catered specially for guests with 'Nova-sized appetites'. Hot bodied young women waited at the tables in tight clothing, turning to gawk as the imposing figure strode in with a cute younger guy in tow. Sitting down at a table, Peter gestured for Sean to sit opposite him. A busty young brunette closed her mouth and, collecting her wits nearly ran over with a pair of menus.

"Beer for me, whatever he wants for the youngster, as long as it's legal." He told her politely before running his eyes down the menu she handed him. The waitress's eyes lingered on him before she turned to Sean with a pretty smile.

Sean scowled back at the guards. It didn't matter that they weren't going to do anything. It was annoying to have them following along after, and Sean resented their nagging presence. As they passed by a hallway, Sean saw that the security room was just a few steps away. Smirking, he called up one of his powers and pointed it at the console set up on there; that looked to be a likely machine for security monitoring. It shorted out with a sudden pop, leaching smoke into the room. Suddenly, Sean felt better.

So much better that he was in the chair at Juggz and faced with the awkward dilemma of how to explain he had no money to buy food with. It didn't help that his blood was considering exiting his upper brain in favor of going south, though the near-constant growl of his stomach was reducing that issue. "Uh, tha... water." That should buy him a couple of minutes, and wouldn't cost him a dime.

"Look," Sean said bluntly. "I really appreciate what you've done for me, but I don't have money to pay. And I'm not going to suck you off for a meal either, so if you think that's what this is about, you've got another thing coming." His face was flaming red by the time he was done - this was embarrassing to talk about with an adult!

There was also the tiny problem that the thought of sucking this guy's cock wasn't that unappealing. Bisexuality: just one more burden for the troubled nova to try to work though. God, he was glad he was sitting down; he wouldn't be standing up for a few minutes yet, either.

Blue eyes widened, anger momentarily swirling a fin in their depths as Peter glared at the kid. Christ, you try to help someone... He gained control of his angry words before they spilled across the table, considering what the kid must think, and calmed down somewhat. He gave Sean a wry smile.

"Boy, I may have just spent 10 years inside, but you're not my type." A jab of a large finger in Sean's direction. "I didn't bring you here to trade favors: I brought you here because you look like you're bloody starving. And I know what it's like to have the Man on your back when all you want is to be left alone." A sympathetic expression softened the handsome face a little.

"Look, I don't think you're a charity case either. But you're a kid, no matter who or what else you are. At the moment, they can fuck around with you pretty much at will, just because they've got the white paper on their side." A shrug of the large shoulders. "But you knew that already."

"Now stop being awkward and eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die." A fierce grin accompanied the menu slapping down on the table before Sean, and the young man caught a flash of gold from the man's finger. A gold band. A wedding ring.

Sean felt his tension leave him, and he immediately felt ashamed to assume the worse of someone who was just trying to be nice to him. Also, the guy was fresh out of prison, and that made Sean reassess his eating companion again. "Um... sorry," he mumbled as he picked up his menu. "I just... I didn't think anyone would just be willing to help without expecting something."

Sean studied his menu in silence. "I'm working on that," he said suddenly. "The getting pushing around because of a piece of paper. I mean, the Danae's took me in for a while, but... I don't want to rely on others. I want to be emancipated, ya-know? Then I can tell people to shove off and leave me alone. I really wanna tell Utopia to fuck off."

Sean was assuming that this guy knew who he was; most people that Sean had met knew his background and he had just taken it for granted that this guy would, too. "Um... so. Who are you? I mean, you know me." Sean grinned suddenly, a crooked smirk that gave him a 'devil-may-care' appearance and would surely bring him much trouble later in life. "I probably should know who to thank for the save back there. And lunch."

He smiled wryly, his eyes not leaving the menu he was reading as he mentally compiled a list of what he would order.

"My name's Peter Nord, and I'm not surprised you don't know me." One big hand rubbed at the blond facial growth. "When I was briefly famous, I didn't have the chin whiskers. And I haven't been much of a public figure in the last ten years."

He looked over his menu at Sean as he gestured for the waitress to come back. As she was practically hovering on tiptoe nearby, it didn't take her long, and he gave her a slight smile. "Start us off with two Novasize wing platters and Hi-Prot milkshakes, love. I'm curious about nova food." He confided this last to Sean as the young woman floated off, flushing prettily. Sitting back, he tilted his leonine head at Sean and narrowed his eyes.

"So what does it take to get emancipated here? What sort of bullshit hoops do they have you jumping through? And why are you on the run again? Thought you'd landed on your feet with some family or other." His tone was conversational, not interrogatory, and his posture was relaxed. But Sean noticed those blue eyes would periodically sweep the restaurant and the promenade outside with deceptive casualness that seemed second-nature rather than conscious.

"Ten years?" Sean chuckled. "I was six when you were famous." Sean said it with the casual disregard of youth to how old that statement might make an adult feel. "I guess that was when you were put in jail, right?" Again, he said it without much empathy or malice, simply blunt words. "I guess my mom..." Sean stopped with a swallow. "She might have heard of you."

Sean fell silent as Peter ordered, opting to not add anything. Peter seemed willing to share his appetizer, and Sean wasn't going to add to an order that he wasn't paying for. Sure, an entree was expected, but more than that made him feel awkward - as if this whole thing wasn't awkward enough.

"Well, getting emanicpated is mostly getting the paperwork, at this point," Sean said, leaning back in his chair before getting a bit distracted by a particularly pleasant pair of breasts walking by their table. "I have no family contesting the move. I'm a nova, for fuck's sake. Right now, the only reason my lawyer isn't pushing harder is because he's waiting to see what happens with the criminal charges in the hospital. There won't be a criminal trial, he says, because novas are generally not charged if they lose control of powers in eruption but the civil law suits will probably kill me fiscally." He sneered a little. "There's only a few dozen of them."

Sean looked away from the woman with the pretty breasts; she was cute, but he was sure she didn't want some kid staring at her like that. "I did stay with the Danae's for a while," Sean said. "But... have you ever been somewhere where someone with the best of intentions completely smothers you? It's like that." He didn't add that he couldn't handle Contessa having a mother she didn't like very much while he'd lost his. It wasn't fair. Contessa would have been happier if her mother were out of her life, but Sean missed his like a punch to the gut. "I'm not really on the run - I just thought that I could make some money if I could get somewhere where my age wouldn't matter. The sooner I start making money the sooner I can pay off the goddammned baselines sueing me."

Peter considered that for a moment, then reached into his pocket and dropped a card on the table in front of the younger nova. Glancing down, Sean saw the familiar stylised D.V. initials next to an phone number and the name 'Mike Dooley'.

"You've got a node, call this guy. He's the one that just snatched me up from the street and offered me five-figures just for the probation period." Peter's tone was matter-of-fact. "You're a minor, but you're a nova. I figure the DV boys can find non-combat uses for you: PR jobs, that sort of thing where they can act more like a Hollywood agent than a merc clearing house till you get older. From what the guy told me, they take any nova at all, and not all are Elites."

Peter leaned back and appreciated their waitress for a second as she brought over the 'nova-shakes', then smiled slightly at Sean. "And De Vries have a legal department that 'makes Utopia wet themselves'. That's a direct quote, by the way." He chuckled, a low rumbling that sounded like distant joyous thunder.

Sean picked up the card, aware of a sense of destiny reverberating through the paper. Well, maybe not, but if angels from on high had hand-delivered the card to him on a plate of golden metal of unknown composition, Sean would have deemed it no more important than Peter's simple gesture over the slick formica table. Dude had bought him dinner and now was giving him a future. The wash of gratitude through him was exciting and embarrassing, and Sean felt suddenly uncomfortable. Playing it as cool as he could, he said, "Yeah, I'll have to look into this. I mean, I'd thought of DV already, but I thought I'd have to wait until I was eighteen to do anything with them. But I'll give Mr. Dooley a call. Thanks, Peter."

As he tucked the card in a pocket, Sean turned his attention toward the nova-shake. It was thicker than shakes he'd gotten as a baseline. There was an odd undertaste, which was probably the protein supplement. It wasn't bad, just unusual.

With something in his belly and the spark of hope for the future, Sean felt a lot better. The next time a waitress gave their table a hopeful smile, Sean answered it with one of his own. The casual and hopeful mood at the table emboldened him, and he asked, "So have you been in prison the last ten years? Is that why I haven't heard of you?"

Peter nodded in answer, staying silent as their waitress set down the two large baskets of wings, and took a large pull of his beer before gulping down a mouthful of milkshake. She gave him a shy smile as he thanked her, then left the two men to their meal.

"Dig in." Peter said, suiting actions to words by taking a sauce-coated wing from the plate and chomping into it with relish. There was silence for a few more minutes as both novas took some time to satisfy the deep, gnawing hunger that comes from a quantum-powered metabolism. Taking another swallow of the milkshake, the blond man stifled a belch with the back of one hand and grinned wryly.

"My story's undoubtedly on the OpNet for people to read, but the short version is: I murdered someone." Peter's eyes were as cold as his smile in that instant. "They killed someone I cared about, and the whole mess kind of sent the part of me that was 'me' to sleep for 10 years, I suppose." The chill left the large nova's face, tiny remnants still present in the glacial eyes as he looked at the boy.

"So that's pretty much my story. My claim to fame was being one of the first 200 novas that erupted on N-Day. Never got a chance to do anything with it, though. I was going to make a good life for us, though. I remember talking with her ab-..." He cut himself off mid-sentence, shutters coming down behind the eyes as they re-focussed on Sean.

"That was the past." He muttered with deliberate off-handedness as he took another swig of his beer, emptying the bottle in one pull. He looked at the waitress and signalled for another. "So, how's the food?" He asked Sean.

Echoes of past discussions with psychologists and Rashoud evaluators rang in Sean's mind as he listened to Peter; this was bringing back all those memories of that dark time. The delicious chicken was held in limp fingers as the food was ignored while Sean was lost in thought. Peter's question shook Sean out of his malaise.

"Uh, good," he said, taking another bite. He mulled over a response to what Peter said for a moment before deciding, with the maximum sympathy a teenager could summon, to say, "That sucks, man. I probably won't serve any time for the people I killed in my eruption, if DV can help me out legally. But if he were still alive, I'd serve time to get the guy who shot my mom, too." Anger and pain - no less than Peter's but far fresher and fueled by teenage emotions - flashed through the boy's eyes. Even coupled with him scraping sauce from his fingers with teeth, he managed to look angry and somewhat imposing.

He frowned and looked up at Peter. "Why'd you go to prison? You didn't have to. You could have run."

Peter nodded slowly as he chewed on another piece of chicken, eyes distant and fixed on the past.

"I didn't care." he said at length. "It was like her death replace my normal drive and sense of volition with fire, and that burned out when I had my revenge. As soon as the piece of shit was dead, I just kind of switched off inside. I just let them arrest me."

He looked at Sean. "I know you understand, at least. We're not the same, our cases aren't the same, but the mechanics of loss are almost universal. When you lose someone you care about, it takes a part of you away. When that person is everything to you, when they fill your entire universe, they take everything away with them. And it takes time to grow something real to fill that empty space."

Smiling a trifle sadly, he picked up his beer and *clinked* it against Sean's milkshake. "To us: the left-behind's, mourning the ones we lost. As long as we remember them, they're never dead." With that he took a deep drink.

Sean nodded gravely, feeling more like a man than he ever had. It didn't matter that he couldn't have a beer, that he was still a kid. He had an adult treating him like an adult and it was making his day. What had started out so shittily was turning out to be better, and Sean felt himself start to feel better, like walking up out of a long tunnel. "To us," he added, because that's what you're supposed to say.

And with that, Sean dug into his food for a while. It wasn't until the bowl was empty that he sat back and asked, "What do you think DV will have you doing?"

Peter shrugged at that question, having polished off his own plate of wings, his shake and another two beers while enjoying the companionable silence.

"Mercenary work, maybe some bodyguarding. They seemed interested in my baseline experience in that field." he said after another stifled belch. "Truth be told, I'm not really too bothered. It gives me a direction to go, something to keep me moving forward." He flashed Sean a wry smile. "Plus it should be fun."

He picked up the menu again as the waitress started clearing away the empty bowls. "Gods, it feels good to eat properly. Do you know they had me on tasteless high-protein paste meals in prison? It kept me alive, but it was so damned miserable it nearly woke me up from my stupor!" He smiled a little at that. "How about you, Sean? Still hungry?"

"Yeah, I'm still hungry." Of course he was; he was a nova teen, only sixteen years old and still growing. "But it's your money, and this is more food than I've had today, so it's ok." He managed to not stare at another table where a stack of ribs was being attacked with gusto.

"You like bodyguarding? That sounds neat, but I'd worry about the merc stuff," Sean said, looking uncertain. "I just hear stories about the bad things Elites do. One of my mom's Doctors Without Borders colleages - she was a doctor, ya know? Anyway, he used to tell me some awful stuff when he was in town. You aren't worried that you'll be asked to do something awful to some third-world village?"

Hoping he hadn't just offended his friend, he ended his shake with one final noisy slurp.

Peter ordered more food for both of them. Steak, fries and, after a look at Sean's face, a large rack of ribs, together with another round of drinks.

"I don't know how I feel about that." he said after careful reflection. "On the one hand: sure, I don't like the idea of fucking up some poor dirt-farmer's life even more than has happened already. On the other, perhaps if I'm there on the ground, the dirt-farmer gets a chance he otherwise might not." He sipped at his beer.

"Most of the folks I'll be paid to fight are combatants. Against the little folks, I might be used to clear them out so someone rich can do whatever." He shrugged slightly. "Thinking about it, if I refuse, some other Elite gets the job who maybe doesn't care what happens to the little guys, and they end up smears. With me there involved in the planning and operational side maybe they get a chance to move their arses, belongings and all, and get the hell out of there before the regular army shows up." He frowned slightly, plainly not happy with the vagaries of the world.

"Sad truth is that in most parts of the world, the little guy has to keep his head down and hope not to be noticed. If I wasn't there, if there were no Elites, then it'd be regular local militias or whatever going in to clear out farmers in the way of the powers that be. In most places, those guys are nothing more than thugs with guns. They'd rape, murder and loot." He took an almost savage pull on his beer. "I prefer my way of taking care of it, if it has to be done. At least that way the people in the steamroller's path have a fighting chance to make a life elsewhere." He looked at Sean.

"Look, I'm not saying that I'm in this to help the little people. What I'm saying is that as a side-effect of my being there, with my outlandish First World sensibility that sees funny little things like ethnic cleansing as 'fucking wrong', those poor buggers will have a better chance. And who knows," he took a swig of beer, "maybe I'll be playing for the other team sometimes: you know, stopping those guys from being wiped out. I suppose I'm hoping that it'll all work out as balanced from a karmic point of view."

Sean blinked a little as a new prot-shake was set in front of him. "I hadn't thought of it like that," he admitted, frowning thoughtfully. "I just thought it was always do what you'd been told." He brightened a little; it may him feel better about going to DV for help. Sean, despite his recent rough attitude, was not a bad kid. He had a desire to help others and he'd been privately struggling with how to balance that with working for a mercenary company. Peter's remarks had merit, but Sean suspected he'd still be asked to do things he didn't agree with. He sighed, trying to decide if he should sell his soul to DV.

The rest of the food arrived at that moment, and the young man promised he'd put more thought into it later. Thinking was better done on a full stomach and he'd be rude to ignore Peter's offered bounty. After munching for a bit, he asked, "Do you think they'll move you to South Africa? I know a lot of Elites live there, but some don't. If you teleport or warp, you could commute from anywhere in the world. That'd be awesome. Flying's cool, but that kind of hopping around..."

Peter stripped the meat from one rib with strong white teeth, as Sean spoke, giving the food a cursory chew before swallowing.

"I'm told I'll be in South Africa for the forseeable future." he replied with a shrug. "I'll be undergoing evaluation and training for a month or so, then I'll probably be operating out of the HQ before I have enough moolah to live where I please."

"Time also applies to the ethical question." he continued, selecting another rib and unconsciously gesturing with it. "Once I'm rich and in demand, I can afford to get more principled with regards to who I work for and what I do. Until then, I'll have to pay my dues, and sometimes that means getting a bad taste in my mouth. If it came down to me being flat-out ordered to waste some poor bastard who just happened to be living on a piece of land though, I'd probably tell them to stuff it. I have a breaking point." He smiled faintly.

"It'll probably be a lot longer before I can toss my wealth and weight around," Sean said. My wealth. That thought was enough to send a flash of satisfaction through his body. His mom had been well-enough off that he'd never expected to have to worry about anything; this dabbling with poverty that he'd done lately had come as an unpleasant shock to him. "And I sure as hell wouldn't mind moving to South Africa. Dr. Danae is ok, but he's a doctor. And his daughter, Contessa, is cute, but she's so mean to me. I think she's a lesbian who hates lesbians."

He took a bite of steak and inhaled it, adding, "I'm grateful for what they did - and I'll always be grateful. They saved my life. I wanna pay them back for what they've spent on me, at the least. They don't need the money, but I don't know what else to do for them. Other than, you know... leaving. Make Contessa happy anyway," he finished with a glum frown. A cute girl found him unappealing, and it was a blow to his young ego. After the emotional bruising he'd taken recently, he'd been hard pressed to endure Contessa's contempt. He was too young to understand where it stemmed from, or what he could have done to make it better. Usually, his attempts to make it better only made it worse.

"I just wanna say thanks, anyway," he finished, cramming several fries into his maw.

"No problem." Peter's reply was likewise masked by the introduction of another sauce-covered rib to his speaking apparatus. He chuckled inwardly at Sean's obvious confusion over this 'Contessa'. Chewing and swallowing, he continued: "Don't worry about these Danae folks. One or two PR jobs for De Vries and you're sorted, money-wise. You can pay them back as much as they feel like taking. And don't worry about Contessa either. Girls are complicated. Women are just as complicated, mind, but they have the redeeming feature of knowing what they want." He grinned, a twinkling mischievous light in his eyes. His plate was half empty already, the steak gone and the ribs rapidly disappearing.

"Listen, once we get done here, I need to get back to the DV offices. I'd advise coming along, kiddo. Talk to them directly before Utopia decide to swoop in and snatch you 'for your own good'." A serious light entered his blue eyes. "I don't want to scare you, Sean. This is a good and fast way out of their clutches for the time being, and you making the choice to step forwards into something means that you don't get harried into something worse whether you like it or not further down the road."

"Oh, you want me to come with you?" Sean sat a little straighter, a pleased grin crossing his face. Too late, he remembered to be cool. "I mean, yeah, that'd be cool. Save me bumming a quarter for a phone call." Oh, yeah, that was slick. Moron.

"And you don't have to tell me twice about the Project," Sean said. "They tried to grab me once, when they had me in custody. I woke up in a surgical arena when they expected me to stay asleep. They were talking in code, something about gray horses and black windows." Sean didn't have the best memory in the world, but he'd never forget that day. "Seemed shady to me, so I ran. By the time they caught up with me, I'd managed to run into the Danae. Dr. Danae really put himself on the line to help me. I'd be in Bahrain or somewhere otherwise."

That jaunt down memory lane made him realize that he'd forgone Dr. Danae's protection. On some level, he'd always been aware of that decision. But while recounting it to Peter, he'd finally realized the magnitude of what he'd done. His shoulders tensed up as he felt suddenly targeted, as if shadowy Utopians lurked in Juggz, waiting to grab him. Dr. Danae would have to report him missing soon, and then they'd be looking for him. "Yeah, straight to DV sounds good," Sean muttered.

Sean's nervousness was a mite infectious, and Peter was all too aware of his own 'illegal alien' status in the U.S. All Utopia needed to do to neutralise him was to inform the American authorities, and both he and Sean would be hip-deep in the shit.

"Agreed." the Brit nova stated as he stripped his last rib of it's meat. "Let's get out of here." He waved the waitress back over to pay their tab, smiling as he thanked her and slipping a $100 bill onto the tray as her tip. He wouldn't be needing that money where he was going, after all. Standing and stretching his large frame, Peter waved Sean to follow him.

"Let's go wake up Mike Dooley. Another bonus for signing a nova will probably replace whatever wet dream we interrupt." With a characteristic wry grin, Peter led the young nova out of the doorway.

Sean's eyes widened at the amount of money that Peter was carelessly tossing around, but he hurried to follow the golden man out of the restaurant. They made their way out of the mall and onto the street. Walking around a corner, they took easily to the air, their quantum powers lifting them into the air.

Sean felt better than he had in a long time. His stomach was full again, and he was taking control of his life. Finally, for the first time since his mother had died, he was carving his own fate. He couldn't stop the happy laughter that bubbled up into his throat. He was free.