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Blair wasn't one to get easily disoriented, but the roar of jets coupled with the echo of steel around him made his ears ring, knocking him almost literally off his feet.

As to his motives for entering the craft, none could really be certain. He trudged about luggage and rubble, moving through as he could, coming across bodies, which he merely glanced at, unmoved.

Finally he heard a cry for help, a female's voice, and his eyes widened slightly at it. He moved forward, following the sound of the cries, and came to find a woman, stranded in a hallway, a cabinet fallen upon her legs.

"Oh, God, help me!" She sobbed. "I don't wanna die like this...my legs are broken, I think...please...help..." She sobbed, growing hysterical.

Blair nodded, moving forward and lifting the cabinet with a bit of a struggle, the woman pulling herself out from beneath it with her arms, which were still functional. "I...I can't stand..." She said, his lips quivering, though she had calmed down quite a bit. Blair stepped over the cabinet and picked her up, hoisting her onto his back, hunching over and allowing her to hold onto him while he retraced his steps, until he emerged from the shattered hull onto the docks.

He was met with the brilliant flashing of cameras from a newscrew that had arrived on the scene.

"Could we have your name?" One reporter asked.
"Why did you board the ship?" Another demanded.
"Do you know this woman?" Yet another questioned.
"Are you attempting to make a statement for black-haired persons everywhere?" Another inquired.

Someone else, however, pulled him aside, the woman being taken by an ambulance that had shown up. A rescue crew entered after Blair emerged, searching for more survivors.

This person looked somewhat official. "Who are you?" He asked Blair, who did not look him in the eyes. When he got nothing for a reply, save for a couple of empty blinks, the person asked a yes-or-no question. "Can you talk?"

Blair shook his head.

The person sighed. "Did you know that woman?"

Blair shook his head again.

"Well, I happen to. She's one of the professors at the Academy at Archaia. Or at least, she was coming here to be one. You might've just earned yourself a gateway to education, my boy." The person said. "Allow me to introduce myself." The purple-haired man said. "I am Dr. Canezo, the admissions counselor for the Academy, but I also serve a secondary role as a therapist." He grinned. "But you don't care for all that, now do you?" The advisor said. "Allow me to take you to the school. Ah, but what's this?" The purple-haired man said, looking on to spy Jill and Sidhe. "Two other students! Might as well round all of you up while we can..." The two proceded to head in their direction.

Harrier fuel is expensive. Harriers consume as much fuel when in flight, and even more fuel when hovering. The tradeoff is, obviously, the ability to hover and the added maneuverability of vertical take-off and landing. It is likely for this reason (the money) that the jets did not simply fly off as Elajio fled into the city at high speed in a garbage truck, with several of the yellow-haired police officers in pursuit, albiet far behind and on foot. The jets moved in a deliberate manner, out of the harbor and low over the buildings of the city, releasing many people from the oppressive smell of and beating of the wind of their jet engine exhaust.

Elajio had a driver's license, but not a commercial one, and especially not a truck license. He was unusued to some of the controls in the truck, and by the time he had figured it all out, a concrete road block built into the road forced him to stop. Beyond this, several frightened and alarmed citizens ducked into buildings where they hoped to escape the oncoming truck, although they were safe as by the time most of them had made it inside, Elajio had already jumped out of the now stationary vehicle. Grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder, the young man slumped against an alley wall in the shade.

"Why is he trying to catch me?" He thought to himself. ""Or is he trying to kill me?...Nah, no way. He probably just wants me for one of his twisted experiments" He added angrily, as a glint of reflected light from above played across his eyes. Elajio looked up at the source of this, and noticed one of the jets in question, just before dodging out of a hail of bullets headed his way. Clearly his belief that his life was a value to his father was misplaced.

((Music! Play it only once you've gotten to this point.))

Elajio stared from his covered spot at the bullet holes in the pavement where he'd been standing not seconds ago. They certainly LOOKED real enough, and if the sound didn't match those of modified dart auto-guns, which wouldn't be mounted on a harrier anyway.

It was time to fight back.

Backpack open, books out, Elajio grabbed a large leather-bound book miraculously spared ruination, entitled "Telekinesis and You: A Guide to Unlocking Minds." He flipped quickly through the pages, trying to find the right chapter before the pilot moved, nullifying his hiding spot. Meanwhile he was working his way through the pilot's mind.

Two seconds later, the pilot pulled the trigger, firing on the boy, or at least hoping that his guns would fire. Such things normally expected to happen will frequently fail when you have a psychic seeing through your eyes and locking your controls. "What the ********>" was the only thing the now helpless pilot could think, as his cockpit flight controls began pressing themselves and turning, while not responding to his input. He jammed at them with his fists for what seemed like an eternity, while a smiling, purple-haired teenager a hundred feet below him with his eyes closed moved his hands, as if he were piloting an aircraft identical to the jet that until recently had been one of four rampaging death machines bent on his destruction.

Elajio sharply turned the jet towards another, throwing the pilot against the side of his seat, and breaking through one of the straps on his safety harness. He then proceeded to fire bullets in a wide arc over the other jet, causing the other pilot to dive dangerously close to the buildings before pulling out. As the remaining pilots began to fire on the hapless, helpless, out of control jet, Elajio flew it out to the harbor, albiet at a much higher altitude, taking it for a joyride.

As he was now able to feel all that the pilot felt, the sense of exhiliration was addicting, to say the least. No longer was he earthbound, truly making the sky his limit. The other pilots chased after him, but the fact that Elajio could push the plane further than normal, due to the lack of care for what happened to the pilot made him a nearly impossible target to catch. He flew higher and higher, until his head was in the clouds, and all he could see was the clear blue sky, and the others followed him, only to pass him by as he shut the engines off, making the jet plummet towards the ground. They dove fruitlessly after him, only to watch as Elajio ejected the pilot seconds before the plane crashed into the ground.

As Elajio opened his eyes, he was surprised to note that he was, in fact, a few inches to the right, a result of the sum of the forces he used on the plane controls. Better than being full of bullet holes, he supposed. The teen walked out to the street and looked to the harbor, watching as three jet-colored pinpricks disappeared into the distance and as another person in a parachute glided slowly towards the water, probably with a very dazed look on his face.

To think it all began in the hushed parks of the city. It should have been a simple day: Sera had carefully planned so days ago. She would sit atop the little hill that bumped from the public greensward and glared down at the fleeting sparkles of the artificial brook, her mind firmly set on the completion of her reading before heading off to the school of adepts. At the break of morn had she taken seating there in her simple, flowing gown of darkened peridot, back snugly fitted to the shape of the bark, downy fingers tightly clasped around the hardcover, tiger eyes siphoned away as the story of the Seeker was closely reaching its climax, and the blasting sounds from her headphones beating wildly at her eardrums, making the young girl nod in unison to enthralling discordance. No one would bother her here – a good hour would have to flow by before the rise of Archaia’s populace. Though the winds of dawn were cold and crisp, wafting her deep cobalt mane like the billows of a midnight sea, Sera felt no chill, for she was swathed in the warmth of a quilt she had brought along for the occasion. ‘Perfect’, she thought then. Currently, however, she was cursing under her breath between rapid pants at her prior optimism, periodically glancing back at the mobsters that were after her.

( - Click here for Chase Music - )

Sera took the short tunnel-like passageway that lead out of the park, taking head on the steep turns at full speed. From the corner of her frantic eyes, she saw the few early birds open their windows or walk out their doors, oblivious to her frightened passing. Then, her vision blurred around the edges, and she ran, sped, bolted past the empty streets and down a fleet of granite stairs. Hurried footfalls thundered not far behind her, and in a surge of adrenaline, she tore a trashcan from its post and toppled it down in front of the steps, spreading yellow peels and crumpled papers before her legs promptly scissored away, leaving behind muffled screams and the tin of rolling metal. She cussed enough to make a harlot blush, her mind all over the place as she desperately tried to make sense of the situation. If only she had seen them come, or at least heard them! She told herself she would question the shortcomings of generally loud music later. Now was the time for hysteria.

The poor girl had run so hard her headphones had slipped down around her lithe neck, buzzing loudly with the roll of drums and cymbals. Her figure flashed through the downtown boulevards, in and out of cluttered alleys, up tapered slopes and sliding down dropping avenues. When she neared the roadblock that kept Archaia vehicle-free, she spun back, wide eyes peering in the distance, fearing the sight of bobbing black-topped heads. She hadn’t the time to cry for joy at their absence when an incoming truck roared. She muffled a cry as it stopped only a few feet away, leaving burned-in skid marks fume behind in a rising grey miasma. A gleam of unruly amethyst popped out of the car and dashed away – an adept. Without thinking, Sera went after the violet haired boy, her feet moving against her own volition. She followed him into a shaded alley, but before her wits could even return, she espied an unnatural gleam from above. Her lips moved silently to swear.

A slew of bullets rained from the skies, ricocheting and blasting the pavement into stone fragments and dust every which way. Sera felt like crying when she jumped out of the way, rolling painfully behind a dumpster. It took her all her will, and then some, to keep herself from having a stroke and falling unconscious. The large, metal container shook and vibrated deafeningly as it was cribbled with bullets, and she felt her end come when it recoiled, pressing her against the alley wall. She could see it: her brother and sister waking an hour from now, turning the telly on and reading the headlines ‘Blue-haired female crushed by garbage’ as footage of her gruesome death was broadcasted. All of this because she wanted a quiet read before heading off to her first day in school.

Everything went silent; all save for the crazed rhythm that detonated from her headphones and the addled beat of her heart, which she felt had been forced up her throat. She stayed there, knees tugged against her bosom, quavering frenziedly as her crossed arms gripped at her forelegs so tautly that she could no longer breathe. She rocked back and forth, as much as allowed the restricted space she had. Then, unable to remain stationary, she pounced from her impromptu shelter and rose to her feet, knees wobbling dangerously but steady enough to keep her in simulated poise. The turned boy no longer stood in the darkened alley, but was looking at the harbour yonder, where jets shrunk into the horizon. Sera was speechless. He looked blatantly unscathed. She stared at his partially shadowed silhouette, and could see a tinge of satisfaction upon his handsome yet sickly countenance. Voices chattered around the corner and new faces set foot upon the premises, realizing with the ruined spectacle what terrible event had just occurred. More adepts, it seemed, from the heads of blond and black, and one of brown. "He is very good, especially for his age," noted the older, taller man of the uncanny bunch, with a pleasant, fatherly face and hair as peculiar as the boy she had chased.

Her eyes glazed over. She hiccupped, gasped for air. Everything had taken its toll. She collapsed on her knees and bawled, sniffing and wheezing. She was a wreck, and didn't give a damn that they would all see her at her worst. “W-what is… t-this? What-t’s ha-happening here? There were bu-bullets...” Sera managed to blubber, tears pearling as she cried so endearingly. “Th-there were mobsters a-and... I j-just… just w-wanted to… to reeeeaaaad!” She seemed so vulnerable, so innocent at that very moment; that is, until she began swearing so ruthlessly that even a hardened sailor would feel thoroughly intimidated. The curses were flowing as profusely as her tears, giving no rest to the puritanical within earshot. Luckily, her reserves had run dry, and she was simply left wailing on the cold pavement like a rag doll.