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Paul, expecting his own knife to punch into the boy's chest (hopefully non-fatally), was sent flying through the air when his opponent disappeared rather magically and reappeared in a similar manner behind him. He had thrown his weight out too far; his feet left the ground and in a rather surprisingly acrobatic maneuver he rolled himself onto his back before he landed, still presenting the combat knife. Yet the other had tried to save his life, and seemingly succeeded.

But now Paul was angry. The knife went back away, and the Beretta came right back out.

"Alright folks, I've had enough for one day. If you want to talk to me, find me on a day when everyone isn't trying to kill me. Thank you very much. Goodbye." While speaking, he pulled himself up to his feet on the wall, then started backing down the hallway away from everyone else.

"Then leave by yourselves," Justinius said, glaring at the boy and the Flighter girl. "You should not have difficulty with them--they are your allies, are they not?"

He moved over to Kiandra while keeping an eye on everyone involved. "I have a safe house not far from here," he whispered. "We can hide the human there and work on a plan from there." He looked over the human and his gun, and he sighed inwardly. Humans were far too emotional. "I think you ought to talk to him, he trusts you most."

Kiandra gave Justinius a weary stare. At this point she wasn't sure who she could trust. No. She needed to get away. Without out giving a reply she turned only to crash into a large Flighter male. He glared down at her before roughly grabbing her by the arm and securing her to his side.

"Submit to the Lavans! There is no escape!"

Kiandra's mouth dropped. The Lavans were the oldest and strongest group of Flighters around. No one messed with them. They were tuff and got the job done no matter who got in the way. Legs trembling in terror she could see that Mira was held captive by the leader of the group. She listened to him speak and nearly fainted when he said the she had to go go along with them. Why on earth would they want her? Paul, everything seemed to be connected to him. Her gaze swiveled to him at the same time as the leader.

The Flighter's already firm grip tightened even more as if he sensed her desire to run. Unable to stop it a small whimper left her lips. Kiandra could already feel her tender skin beginning to bruise. Tears pricked her eyes as Mira blurted out that Paul was a Bermudian.

"Oh? And what are his powers...?"

Frightened she could see the panic in her eyes mirrored in Mira's. Paul would have to prove any powers they gave him. They needed more time to think. The trembling in her legs increased as she licked her dry lips. The only way to create time was a diversion.

Kiandra took a deep breath and snapped loudly, "Unhand me at once! my parents are very influential people, I demand an explanation as to why I am being manhandled as a common criminal!"

She glared up at the Flighter who held her and attempted to jerk her arm away only to have him shake her roughly and growl, "Enough or I will be forced to silence you."

Bane stared at all the Flighters for a second, blinking slowly, confusion spreading quickly as he listened to everything.

"Nova's friend?", he thought indignantly, before suddenly bursting out with a shout of, "I don't think so!"

In an instant he had moved five feet, stepping out beside the Lavan who held Mira, his blade held mere millimeters from the mans temple, knowing full well that in a second, he'd be attacked, and less than a second after that, he would most likely either be dead, or severely wounded.

"Release her, now.", he hissed, fire swirling from the tips of the fingers of his left hand, slowly rising, and shrouding the air directly around him in sparkling light, his cold eyes glittering with malice.

((An idea to think about... Would be reasonable if the Bermudians were able to understand and speak all languages? Sort of a race-wide 'gift of tongues' power, in order to simplify things...))

The man holding Mira glared at the boy with cold, hard eyes. "You should be grateful to me for not thinking to bring you in the same as them." he said, motioning to the struggling female still in his grip. Immediately, three men dressed the same as he appeared from nowhere. "I would be pleased to remind you that you are not the only teleporter around here armed with deadly weapons. Back off, or my men will tear you to shreds."

It was that instant that shots were heard, and the lights went out. Mira's thoughts immediately went to Paul. Get out of here! she willed him on in her mind. They only wanted them to get to him, right? So if he wasn't there, they would have no interest in her or Kiandra. At least, she hoped they wouldn't.

She let out a yelp as the man squeezed her arms tighter, dragging her towards the exit without another word. Mira, of course, panicked. "Kian---" she managed to say, before her voice was cut off by a rough hand clamping over it. Static sparks flew out of her body, grounding themselves to whatever was closeby. The man grunted in discomfort, but held fast. He was a persistent Lavan, as he was trained to be.

((Yah.. Either it's a gift of tongues or they are taught from a very young age to understand a ton of different languages.... though "Gift of Tongues" would be easier to pull off I think...)

"Stupid, friggen Human...", Bane muttered, spraying sparks into the air immediately around him, so that he could see in the darkness that Paul had plunged them all into. It seemed that it didn't matter what he did now, and after glancing around once, he promptly sat down, rolling his eyes at the chaos around him.

He slid his knife back into his filthy, tattered red jacket, and sighed, muttering,"Can we live in peace and happiness? I think not..."

Paul again was pulled to a stop by the other girl. Her hand suddenly grasped his in the darkness, and he nearly accidentally shot his own foot. Suddenly her weight was on his hand as she apparently tripped; he pulled her up to her feet. "The door's this way," he murmured, sliding through and heading towards what he hoped would be the way towards his base of operations.