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Anthony was a surprisingly strong swimmer, considering the circumstances in which he was raised. It was one of those things, though. He was glad to see that he wasn't the only one, but it appeared that they had two already that seemed only to be dead weight. Jay, literally, and Lux, nearly. Jay couldn't have helped it, though, and Tony was surprised that Elizabelle hadn't suffered similarly, though their wounds could've been of differing severity. Lux, though, was nearly useless. She looked like she didn't even know how to swim, Tony figured he was doing her a favor, not saying anything.

He'd had a moment, maybe two, of silence. He wasn't sure how it worked, but it made sense that he'd been so focused elsewhere that he simply hadn't heard the voices, now they were back, and swarming. His focus was on reaching the shore, but it wasn't anything that took too much thought, swimming was a repetitive motion. The voices in his head were loud, and it was hard to be glad that they would soon be back in the "real" world, seeing as how there would only be more people there.

...could die here, body would float to sea and never be found... Cynical thoughts that Anthony could only identify as Lux's. Was a fear of water uncommon? He wouldn't have known, but if there was anyone who had it, it was Lux. Still, it was best that he not cut her any slack, he figured, as he would've been offended if anyone did the same for him. Better than here. As he worked not to focus on anyone in particular, he seemed to receive only pieces from everyone around him, unintelligible fragments that would occasionally float up from the low hum of voices.

...only thing sure of, swimming and music. Came the new girl's voice. Had she introduced herself? Maybe to the group up on the roof, but not to them below, those that had already been in the water. Tony ought to have been suspicious, he thought, but it was hard to be when she hadn't given them any evidence of it. She veered off suddenly, bringing attention to a much closer shore, hidden behind some rocks back from where they had started. Tony, reluctantly abandoning his prior target, turned off and followed the others. It seemed as though it were the current that swept them to the beach.

Probably thinks I'm a traitor. Tony, despite himself, looked over at her. He couldn't help it, it was as if everyone were talking to him, they just didn't know it. As soon as he did, there was a rush of her voice, and he immediately regretted it. A wave of one single voice, too loud and too much. In the quiet of the beach, it was so much easier to focus on the voices, especially without the panic of gunfire. Spoke to Lux on the phone. Who knows what the others know.

Was that suspicious? Either way, Tony felt a wave of shame. He felt rather like a kid realizing he were doing something his parents had always scolded him about. Like he'd been caught with his elbows on the dinner table. Tony turned his gaze to the sky, even as he dragged himself out of the freezing water. The salty air cut him deep, and he'd forgotten entirely about the cuts from the glass, it stung but it was nothing severe enough to slow him down. Mostly dressed, and his clothes weighted with water he felt like a drowned rat pulling himself up onto the beach.

It was hard to believe that they were free, and even if so-- for how long? He had no doubt that they would be pursued. Whatever had been done to them, it had been expensive, and that was only judging by the physical changes in the others, and at the very least they would want their parts back. Something had happened to their brains, and who knew how much had been screwed up, or how much of them, really, had changed?

Tony's mind was drawn back to what seemed like forever ago. He'd picked up the autopsy table with impossible ease. And he'd never have been able to jump into the shaft from the bottom of the elevator. It was obvious that he was stronger, and maybe he hadn't had a chance to notice it, what with trying to figure out all of the voices in his head. If he weren't looking at a person, and he had already figured it was best to avoid looking directly at anyone, it was hard to tell what was said aloud, and what was not.

Already, he'd responded to Erik and maybe others about things that he shouldn't have heard. Tony, believe it or not, would've given anything to be back at home with just his fish and the dust gathering on the top of his fridge to worry about. He'd not had a life, at least, not one worth taking him away from. He was not on speaking terms with his family, all of his friends were simply acquaintances, and the only thing he was responsible for was his damn fish.

Certainly, he wouldn't be missed-- at least, not until his fish decayed in the tank and stank through the air vents. Maybe that was what had gotten him into this situation, though could that even be called his fault? Surely, it wouldn't have been someone else if maybe that business with the death of his grandfather hadn't happened, and he still had a family that didn't want to tear each other's eyes out through their nostrils. Tony couldn't afford to spend much time in his own mind, but it seemed to be the one thing that kept him out of the other's. It was a gross invasion of their privacy, and he was sure that he liked it no more than they would have, if they'd known.

The girl from the roof, the Asian one, she sat on the beach and there was a moment of silence, or what was the closest to silence Tony would get for a while, before she began to speak. "Nice strokes." Anthony couldn't help the look he turned on her, as if it was, and it was, the most awkwardly forced statement she could make in a situation such as this. Please don't look at me like that. More instinctively than anything, Tony jerked his gaze away from her, looking out to the ocean where the others were swimming in.

Lux was next, maybe it was because of some head start that she arrived before the others, because she certainly wasn't a particularly talented swimmer. She got out of the water looking as if she wished she could cast it from her, and said not a word to the others. Tony would've continued staring out, but it was the Asian girl's voice that drew his gaze, reluctantly back to her before he received the rush of words. She introduced herself as Motoko, and offered a handshake. Tony didn't do handshakes, and kept his hands at his sides, she withdrew but he was sure that that wasn't the reason.

But that's just what I call myself. My whole life might as well be a lie. Tony didn't like the sound of that, at all, his gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he looked back out at the water, at the building that looked alien and dangerous, even from so far away. "Tony." He introduced himself with the same frigid efficiency as before. ...pregnancy had kept her modest and well aware of it. It was only a fragment, but it still caught him by surprise.

Tony's eyes jerked over toward Lux, it was automatic, and he didn't even think about the fact that he would be buried in her thoughts. Nothing was intelligible, and the sound was deafening in its loudness, his eyes shot for the sandy beach, and it was as if someone had turned down the volume significantly. He'd never felt such an appreciation for the silence it felt he would never hear again. "I hope I can be of some help." That was what Motoko said, though it seemed it was a little late for that.

When they'd needed help, was back in the building, and they had received it enough that most of them had gotten out of there alright. While it didn't seem as if they were out of danger yet, it more and more seemed as thought they might never be. ...some sort of psychonatural powers. That should help... Tony learned something new every day, and despite himself he didn't so much as glance at her, but kept his eyes locked on the sand. He was sure that, in appearance, she hadn't changed at all since he'd last offered her his attention, but even then he wasn't sure it had been worth it.

There was a long silence, or something like silence to Tony, who seemed to hear all of the inner mumblings of the two girls at the beach, everyone else seemed too far away. It was indecipherable, and stitched together like a net of dialogue he wasn't intended to hear. Finally, Motoko spoke up again. Like this, it was easy to tell what she was saying, as opposed to what she was thinking. It was quiet enough that there was an obvious difference in volume.

"I'm the one who called Lux on the phone." Tony wasn't thinking, though more and more he wasn't. He shouldn't have been surprised, he'd always been one to think on his feet, and sometimes that led to undesirable effects. He didn't look in her direction, his gaze was fixated on the building, his mind all over the place. "I know." He responded, listening mostly to the perpetual churning of his own thoughts, it was the easiest way to stay out of everyone else's heads, and though he'd never been one for introspection, he figured people could change.

"Maybe this is where we split up." It was a stupid thing to say, Tony was sure of that. He, himself, didn't really have a home to return to, it more or less was determined by whether or not his month was up, and his landlord had come to evict him, but instead found his apartment empty, or rather, Tony-less. Whether or not he had a home was determined by whether or not he had a rotting fish in the bowl, or dust gathered in the fan of his Xbox.

Tony didn't speak up immediately, though, because he waited a moment for the statement to sink in. There was nothing to keep them together... It was true enough, and Anthony was the first to be willing to admit that, but there was plenty of reason that they would not be safe going their separate ways. For one thing, none of them likely had any place to go. A group of people as powerful as that company must've been, undoubtedly they had eliminated any family for them to run back to, maybe not through blood, but it was likely that they would've known they'd run back.

Neiva swirled the untouched margarita in her glass, observing the tiny grains of salt that dislodged from the rim, circling the center of the maelstrom. The scent of liquor pervaded the air as the rest of the attendees felt no reason not to indulge. Of course, she expected no different when she reluctantly agreed to attend the party with Mère, acting as the designated driver. Still, to prevent conservations opened with "Have a drink." she knew to hold something, anything, toss it after a few hours, and immediately pick up another, different drink.

She observed the her drink, feigning utmost fascination with the melting ice while an argument broke out concerning a favorite topic amongst this group: how a socialist government would affect art. They never got beyond a few points sober, and when drunk they could spend an hour bouncing the same exact point off each other until something more interesting happened…like being offered more alcohol.

Neiva. Neiva jerked involuntarily, spilling tequila on her cobalt dress. What the hell? Sibylla doesn’t say my name when she wants my attention.
Go to the balcony. Now. Why? Just do what you’re told. She sighed, and set her glass down on the table. Looking back at the screaming crowd, she left the room.

Satin dress sliding against legs well lasered at Mère’s insistence (and expense), she passed by rooms leaking the fumes of burnt hemp, shrieking and moaning coming from other rooms. I still don’t see why I need to go to the balcony now. Mère’ll probably be ready to leave in ten minutes anyways. You need to see the view. You mean the city? Sibylla fell silent. Neiva came to the spiral staircase that formed the spine of the house, and without hesitation, ascended, leaving the cacophony of Mère’s world behind.

She reached the fourth floor, and hastened toward the east balcony. Stilettos tapping against exotic wood flooring, hair caught up in an elaborate hairstyle studded with jeweled pins, Neiva suddenly felt overdressed as she reached the French doors.

It was impossible to see anything clearly through the glass, though Neiva could swear she saw a silhouette of…What the hell? Neiva wrenched the silver plated handle, and felt the metal snap. She looked down at the scrap of metal and threw it in the corner Well, it’s cheap obviously…and it isn’t like nothing else will be broken tonight. She pushed the door open, and jerked back. Giselle Tenning, clad in a white lab coat stood on the balcony, tentatively watching Neiva, a cigarette smoldering in one hand, the ocean stretching behind her. Lovely, I’ve completely disconnected from reality.

“What are you doing here?” Neiva blurted, harsher than she meant.
“What do you mean…never mind Neiva, we have to talk.” Giselle stepped closer, creases etching themselves in her face.
“Why is the ocean there?” Neiva felt like a child before the older woman, like she was asking for answers she already knew.
“There’s no time for this. I will explain everything later.” And with that, Giselle Dr.Tenning grabbed Neiva with her icy fingers can’t remember when we last saw the sun and wrenched Neiva over the balcony.

((Part One of Post One...heading and footer will be refined btw))