She had been given an address. Multiple motherfucking addresses. Just to find one scrawny punk of a charge. Crow glanced down at the scribbled number written on a Dunkin Donuts napkin and then up at the brick building across from her. The numbers matched and she prowled across the street, her boots disturbing small pools of water from the mid afternoon rain earlier that day. This side of the street was busier, people entering and exiting the apartments that lined the road. She hated the city. But work was a helluva lot easier to find.
Ignoring the lock system entirely, Crow used her telekinesis to unlock the bolted doors and with a final glance at the apartment number adorning the Dunkin Donuts napkin, walked into the building like she owned the place. Instead of a concierge there was a lady behind a desk at the far end of the room. Crow ignored her, like the passing women eyeing her oversized combat boots and faded leather pants. Or maybe it was her blonde hair, half of it dyed a startling pink.
Pressing the up bottom, Crow waited for the elevator to ding and reveal its threshold. Once it did, two men and a single mother walked out, the latter clutching her small child by the wrist, glaring at the older gentleman who dashed out first. She listened, not with her ears, but with her mind… and flashes of memories flew into her mind’s eye. With cat-like reflexes, Crow latched onto the side of the elevator, dizziness seeping into her bones.
“M-miss,” Crow heard faintly, “Are you alright?”
Glancing up, Crow locked eyes with the single mother, her head still spinning with her thoughts and memories. That old man was her former boss, who’d fired her for having to leave to pick up her sick little girl from school. That was three weeks ago, and since they lived in the same building, the tension between them ran thick.
She nodded her head slightly, wondering how long it would take until she got a hold over her version of telepathy. It was always a rush… a flooding of information that never made sense until she filtered through it and was able to grasp the intangible. It was useful, sometimes, but damn if it didn’t make her head hurt.
“I’m alright, thanks.” Crow said lightly, her voice a little unsteady. “You take care of your girl.” Crow replied, walking into the elevator before it could close. “Keep an eye out, that new daycare has a bad reputation.”
The elevator closed just as the mother dropped her jaw in shock. She hated having powers sometimes, especially when you couldn’t properly explain things to the masses…
She left the elevator on the sixth floor and walked down the hall, searching for room six-oh-seven. When she reached it, she gave the knob a twist, and was surprised to find it locked. Reaching with her telekinesis, she could sense a multitude of locking mechanisms, and being cautious for once, Crow reached out and knocked on the door three times.
Crow wondered if she’d finally get to meet her next charge. She’d been given the first address almost two days ago… if Pathfinder wasn’t here, there was gunna’ be hell to pay.
The act of hiring a body guard was one of the riskiest things he had done in a long time. Hiring protection was the riskiest thing he had done in.. in however long it had been since the Lab Coats and Mr. Mob Boss went searching for him again.
For the past six months, he had hid his tracks so well that not a single incident had occurred. But those moments of peace had made him feel too secure. He had let his guard down, and only narrowly escaped. It was clear in the bruises and cuts that covered his body. A nasty bruise, colored greenish purple was clear on his left cheekbone; the other was covered by a circular bandage, perhaps covering a cut. His left hand was wrapped tightly in bandages and he walked with a slight limp.
Mason Marcus Zetith, aka, Pathfinder, was not currently in a good place. But despite the ability to find any place, he was never in a good one.
And that's what had lead him to hire a bodyguard.
It was risky, even making contact with someone he was not sure he could trust. Wiring funds. Giving away his address. Well, multiple addresses. Had to take some precautions in this majorly idiotic risk he was taking. He paced around his dingy little apartment for hours, one knife carefully sheathed on his hip, another hidden in his boot, a rifle leaning in a chair, waiting to be used. He even had a secret exit through the vents. Mason might have been a tad over prepared, but it kept him alive.
No, correction. Those that chased Pathfinder did not wish him dead. They only wanted his skillset. Mason's preparations kept him free, if at least in the crudest of ways. He glanced around the smelly, uncomfortable, and ratty apartment. Sure. Free.
Despite it all, the twisting of the door knob had him so startled he nearly jumped out of his own skin. But then came the knocks. Three of them, just as he instructed. Hand on the knife, he stepped up to the door, hand on the first latch, first of many. He had six.
"State your business." He growled from the other side, without even opening it a smidge. No more mistakes. No more mistakes.
“Protection.” Crow said simply, her voice devoid of the previous shakiness. “I was called for an interview, two fucking days ago. You Pathfinder? You better be.”
She stood there with her arms crossed, waiting for the door to be unlocked and opened. It was taking forever. Whoever was behind that door was one of the paranoid folk her ma’ always spoke of and the impatience crept through her blood, sending her foot tapping. Her boots made a soft thud-thud-thud against the inside-outside carpet that lined the exterior hallway.
“Well?” Crow barked out, her voice sharp and laced with annoyance.
Reaching out once more, Crow let her mind wander until she felt the mental presence of the person standing behind the door… And then staggered back a moment later. She regained her footing a quickly, but her heart raced and her eyes bulged at the sensation of being pushed away. Albeit being new to her telepathy powers… she’d never felt anything similar. Her curiosity spiked… Just who was this Pathfinder kid anyways?
Mason sighed, and glanced around himself nervously. He'd taken all the precautions.. hopefully no one had intercepted the message and tried to pose their own servants to stand in place of the guard he had hired. He thought about it deeply. Should he open the door? If he didn't the female voice would go away and he could pretend like he'd never made this idiotic decision.
She barked from the other side of the door. Feisty. Maybe that was good. Mason himself was certainly not feisty. Perhaps some fire would come in handy.
Slowly, Mason began to work through the many locks on his door, the clicking sound apparent on both sides of the door, one by one each lock was unlocked. He opened the door enough for a lithe person to slip in, and sized her up. Hm. Perhaps not what he'd expected, but if her powers were as strong as promised, who was to complain?
Mason himself was a sight for sore eyes, all the cuts and bruises, the split lip and the limp and the bandaged wrist. He looked pretty thin, and carried himself in a almost sad looking way, shoulders hunched and brows furrowed nervously. But she was.. strangely bright. Not only the pink hair, but her whole attire seemed rather rebellious. He wondered what kind of act she was hoping to put on.
Once the girl had stepped inside his apartment, he locked the door up again, and then turned to her, mouth slanted in a puzzled frown. "Uh," Mason started, clearing his throat, trying to think about how to introduce himself. What was he supposed to say? Why hadn't he thought of this before? Hey, thanks for coming to save my ass, 'cause I can't?
He offered her his hand, his good hand, and gave a small huff. "I'm Pathfinder, as you.. should know." Of course, real names were not going to be passed out first meeting. If they ever even got that close, which he doubted. "Thanks for coming." He murmured, unsure of what else to say.
Crow reached out and shook his hand firmly, surprised at the strength behind it. He was scrawny, as she suspected, but he was beat all to shit. No wonder he needed a bodyguard. He looked like he’d been sent through a meat grinder; purple and blue and green, cuts lining his face, arm bandaged heavily, and though he tried to hide it, Pathfinder walked with a slight limp. Sizing him up slowly, scrutinizing his platinum blonde hair -did he dye it?- and his light hazel eyes. They were a bit unnerving, in a cute kinda way. Hazel brown and green, flecked with what looked like gold.
He was cute, but this was a job, and there wasn’t nothin’ cute about that.
Crow nodded her head at his introduction. What idiot didn’t know who their employer was? Laughing to herself quietly, she reminded herself that she didn’t exactly know the person standing in front of her…
“No problem,” She said with a nod. “What are your defenses like?” Crow asked then, a formal resignation creeping into her voice. “Any security systems besides the six deadbolts? Mundane or super?”
Walking back up to the door, she focused on all of the locks, unlocking them all with a thought and a push of her telekinesis. They all clicked at once and then flipped back over with another click.
“Well, we’ll have to work on that one,” Crow said simply, glancing back at him with a reassuring smile. “If you hire me of course.”
She continued to stalk her way through the apartment, speaking out loud at random, mainly about defensive measures. Crow had no problem with invading personal space, and she walked right into his bedroom -it was messier than hell- and checked the lock on the window and searched the bathroom for any exits. There wasn’t any, thankfully. Glancing at the ceiling as she made her way back into the living room, Crow noticed a potential escape route through the paneling and committed it to memory. If she got hired, she’d need to check it out and make sure the way was clear if the need arose.
Stalking back up to Pathfinder, Crow nodded her head, mainly to herself and gave the place one last look. It was a decent place, if a bit of a dump while messy, but it was livable.
“The name’s Crow, Rheya Crow. Before you go gettin’ weird, or expecting me to want your real name, forget it. I tell all my employers my real name and I could give a shit or careless what I call you -- as long as you stay safe. And shit, that’s why I’m here right? Anyways, I’d appreciate it if you kept my first name to yourself. Call me Crow when we’re together, and if there’s another Super 'round, call me Majestas.” Clearing her throat she continued. “That is, of course, if I’m hired.”
Mason stood as she walked up to the door, waiting to watch her inspect the locks but it never came. Instead, all six of them seemed to unlock by themselves and then relock in an instant. His eyes were wide. The reassuring smile she gave him moments afterwards threw him for a loop; she had just annihilated practically his only defense mechanism in the entire cruddy apartment. And then she'd smiled.
“I haven't been in this place long enough to install any big security systems.” He said sheepishly as she trekked through the apartment. Despite the terrible mess Mason had already made in his bedroom, he really hadn't been here for more than a couple weeks. He had a knack for making himself at home quickly, a valuable trait when he was required to jump from safehouse to safehouse. “No super protections, either. If I had powers like that I probably wouldn't be needing you.” He said with a short sigh.
Despite her abruptness and lack of care for his privacy, he found himself strangely drawn to her. The old Mason, the kid before he got his powers, would’ve hired her in a heartbeat. He used to be impulsive, and pretty arrogant. Such a personality was a thing of the past.
With narrowed eyes, he gestured for her to sit at one of the bar stools lining the kitchen counter. “So, Crow,” He started, taking a moment to collect his question in his mind and test out the name she had asked to be called. “In what exact way are you going to use your powers to protect me? And while we’re at it, a description of your abilities would be nice.” He said solemnly. Mason was attempting to treat it as professionally as a job review, although he’d already allowed this person into his current hiding spot, so it didn’t really matter.
Crow frowned softly in confusion before continuing. It was clear she was gathering her thoughts, but if one looked hard enough they'd see something else too; confusion turned to concentration, the air closest to her crackled with energy, and her dark blue eyes burned with a slight amethyst tint.
"I protect, Pathfinder. That is my calling. And to protect, one must fight." She looked him in the eyes, searching for something… "And fighting, Pathfinder, is what I'm made for."
Sitting upon the offered stool and folding a leg beneath her, Crow continued, parts of her hair dancing with the energy she was still calling upon.
"My abilities," Crow began, a hand tapping over her her heart three times, "Are varied and many. To be truthful, I do not know the extent of my own powers... New ones seems to come along every few years, always branching from my telekinesis and telepathy.
"You ask how I will use them to protect you? I will use them to their fullest, to the best of what I am capable of… and not to be cocky, but I'm capable of a lotta things." Crow finished with a smile and a humble shrug of the shoulder.
Looking at her own palm and calling upon her telekinesis to burn and coalesce, she watched fondly as a small ball of dark amethyst energy began to form. It resembled water made flame, or smoke made liquid, and danced an inch or two above her skin. Crow glanced back at Pathfinder, a soft expression on her face.
"This is just one of many offensive powers I have. I do, of course, have defensive ones as well."
She casually tossed the energy ball in the air and on it's descent, reached out with both hands, conjuring a telekinetic forcefield around it. Within seconds the thing exploded, shreds of amethyst energy dissolving into nothingness. Though low energy, it still sent a shockwave through the small apartment. Her loose hair billowed behind her, and she watched absently as littered paper rose and fell around the apartment. Crow glanced back at Pathfinder, looking for his reaction.
"As for a description of my abilities; my telekinesis enhances my strength which in turn, enhances my mixed martial arts. It allows me to perform certain acrobatic stunts rather easily and I've even taught myself how to levitate. And as you just saw, I'm able to burn and coalesce my telekinesis, enabling me long-range explosive attacks, without the need for guns. Which, of course, I am also fluent in. As for my telepathy, it is still rather new, truth be told. I've only had it for a little over a year but when I reach out with my mind I receive memories and thoughts from the presences I touch."
Mason, for the start, was a little uncertain. She was prodding in places he found uncomfortable -- the sharp gazes, that weird tap on her heart. Maybe she's a hoax. Certainly a possibility. Maybe he should be counting his last seconds? Bye mom, shoulda come visited sooner. When she stretched out her palm, Mason just about flinched, his own mind scaring him with the possibilities she could hold in her very hand, the one she had outstretched.
And then something purple and glowy started to form right in front of him.
"We-w-well sh-i-t," he shuttered, backing up a bit, throwing a hand in front of himself protectively, but she just let whatever the heck that thing was simmer there. He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but then she tossed the fucking thing. Tossed it! That's it, he was dead, they were all fucking dead and then -- she caught it in some sorta protective bubble. The thing still blew, 'course, If his apartment was a mess before, it got even messier, every light object being thrown from it's place, papers flying everywhere, his white locks being tousled, and his blue eyes wide.
As she spoke on about her powers in depth, Mason stood from the stool, still seeming to be listening as he opened a cupboard, and brought out two glasses. His hands seemed to have the slightest tremor, especially the bandaged one.
After she was done, he let the silence hang in the air momentarily as he arranged the glasses, turned on the faucet to pour water into a red kettle that lay atop the stove, and pull a box of teabags from the cabinets. He only spoke once the tremble in his hands seemed to stop, and then he rested them upon the countertop, gripping the edges.
"Impressive." He murmured. "Yeah, uh. You're hired. Want some tea?"
Sometimes she liked to speak with it, to drink it right on up and drunkenly roar with all her might. She never let herself taste too much, though. Crow wasn’t stupid after all. She knew she was capable of great things. Terrible things.
Her pupils were amethyst-black holes that burned with power… until she looked over at Pathfinder. It was a brief, sweeping glance, one that she used often and almost by instinct. Crow was always searching, always scanning for trouble even when there was none to be found. Her gaze softened and she smiled reassuringly, pushing the power away for now.
“I’ll take some tea, yeah.” Crow said distractedly. “Tea sounds good. Is it cold in here or is it just me?”
One of the mugs said "World's Best Dad", and the other had a batman logo on it. He waited for the kettle to whistle, teabags placed in each dinky mug, eyes distant and clouded. He was still a little jarred from Crow's display of power. At her comment, his eyebrow lifted, and the tiniest hint of a smile as he answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Dunno. I like it cold. Maybe like my soul?" The tiniest of chuckles escaped him as he pulled the kettle off the stove at it's first whistle. But his own laughter died out pretty quickly, and he awkwardly let silence dawn on the both of them. "
Sorry. Jokes. Tea." He muttered gruffly, unimpressed with himself and likely embarrassed. He poured the tea and offered her the mug with the batman logo, sparing her the shame of the dad mug, which he took for himself.
"I suppose you'll need to know exactly what you're protecting." He said sulkily, as if talking about his own powers bothered him. He took a sip of his tea and placed his hands on the table, nervously fidgeting. Mason gave a sigh. "So I... find things. Earned the name Pathfinder for a reason. Basically, any place, thing, or person you can think of, I can find them, if they're alive. My brain kinda -- aligns itself with the stars, I guess? And using them I just get directions. I know exactly where to go."
He took a large sip of his tea and ashamedly admitted that, "I'm basically a human GPS. It's why I'm so sought after."
The awkward, pitiful joke brought a bubbling chuckle to Crow’s lips and she took the Batman mug from Pathfinder with an appreciative nod. She went to take a sip before remembering how much she enjoyed not having a scalded tongue and instead listened to the man’s rambling, spoken aloud thoughts.
She frowned to herself when he was finished. So he was some kind of tracker… Some kind of ultimate tracker… No wonder he was so paranoid; lab coats and government officials alike were probably after him.
After a minute or two she took a sip, noting the bitterness. “Seems like I have my hands full then, Pathfinder. You have any sugar, by the way? This needs to be sweeter."
Mason scoffed after a sip of his tea, rolling his eyes at Crow as he stood to grab a lone, sad sugar packet in some random spot in the cupboard. "Sugar in tea is gross, but if you're that person then I guess I can't help you." He flashed her a smirk, but otherwise entirely meant what he said, continuing to drink his tea sugarless.
Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as he'd thought.
◆ ◇ ◆
A month had passed, and though he would never admit it, he had grown to enjoy Crow's company immensely. The chase for the well-known, elusive, Pathfinder, seemed to come to a halt once her presence had been made. That, or, the need for a tracker had quieted down. There had been no break in, no chase, no attack. Almost too quiet.
All Mason knew was, that for the first time in a long time, he wasn't ailing from some beating. No limping or bruises or anything of the sort. Aside from the stunningly white hair, Mason had slowly begun to look more like a normal person, and not a husk of one.
She'd insisted on a shopping trip, and a month ago he would've called her insane if she proposed he leave the house and walk out in the open in some mall. But Majestas -- Crow -- .. made him feel safe. Protected. He trailed behind her as she piled thing after thing into the cart he pushed, a thin, dopey smile about him. It was her job, after all, to make him feel protected, no?
Strange, how protected he indeed felt, even though there was no recent attack.
"Crow," He said with a shake of his head. "Are you sure we need all of this?" He gestured to the cart, practically full to the brim. He moved to stop a box of Kraft Mac N' Cheese from toppling onto the floor.
“Um, of course. I’ve been tellin’ ya for weeks now, Starboy, that we gotta stock up! You barely have anything in that dinky apartment.” Crow replied exasperatedly. Leaning over her shoulder, she spoke in a whisper. “And we lay low way too often not to have at least three months worth of supplies.”
Neatly restacking the mac-n-cheese within the cart, Crow placed another twelve-roll package of toilet paper in the cart and nodded to herself contently. From her back pocket she pulled out a list and went over it quietly.
“Hm. It seems we have everything. Is there anything else you want? Some more juice and your favorite tea, maybe? I only grabbed two boxes of each… Hmm.”
Unbeknownst to the two shopping metas, an odd pair of finely dressed men walked into the discount warehouse store, eyes glued downward to their palms, where they both clasped two devices not unlike a cell phone. They seemed to be following something…
"Two boxes are enough, Crow." He said with a small chuckle, attention being drawn elsewhere. A young boy and his mother down the isle. He clutched a comic book in his hand and a Spiderman toy hung out of his pocket. He jumped eagerly around his mother, reaching for something on the highest shelf. Dark hair accompanied silvery, innocent and hopeful eyes.
"O-oh, uh, can I help you get that?" Mason said, almost excitedly, spinning around and leaving Crow to pull a carton of apple juice of the highest shelf. "Ooph, so hiiiigh~" Mason made a show out of it, reaching up as far as he could, going up on his tippy toes, even though that put him well past the highest shelf. The boy giggled. Catching a glimpse of the figure as he pulled down the carton, Mason's grin widened.
"Woah, look at that! A fellow Spiderman fan, huh?" Mason was gleaming now, revitalized by the innocence of this kid. "I have to say, young man, you have very good taste in superheroes."
The mother of the child smiled gratefully, clasping the carton of apple juice between both hands before placing it in the cart. Smiling fondly down at her son, she knelt down to ruffle his hair and say, "What do we say, hm, Max, when someone helps us?"
The young boy thought for a moment, eyes widening when he remembered. "Tank you!"
Turning to his mother, the boy smiled widely before clutching her leg and waving up at Starboy shyly.
Watching the exchange with a hesitant smile, Crow glanced down at her watch and then up at the mirrors at the end of the isle. Nothing caught her attention, but a blip, at the edge of her psyche lit up. She didn't know what it was, not entirely, and as she reached out with her telepathy, she whispered for Starboy.
It was as if she closed her eyes and stepped into another world. All around her mind’s eye were blank figures, outlined with a glow. She could sense just about everyone in the store, and all of them, except the two in front of her, were translucent. It took her off guard, the child and his rouge red glow. Starboy's cerulean blue was a comforting sight against the revelation.
Crow stared at the mother sympathetically, suddenly terrified for the woman and her little boy.
Max. What a great name! He looked like a Max. With every bubbly giggle Mason felt a little bit lighter. It had honestly been so long since he'd felt safe enough to step outside, and he had hardly remembered what it was like to see other people, and laugh at their antics or their distraught or their innocence. He had never been much of a talker, but he had been so damn alone. He missed people.
"You have a nice day," Mason said with a gleaming smile, ready to add another five boxes of his favorite tea and those little juice cartons to their already overflowing pile.
He turned around, smile fading. He knew that tone of voice. It meant something bad was coming. He stepped away from the mother and son, heading to Crow, brows furrowed. "What's wrong?" He said, voice hush. Please, he begged anyone who was listening. He'd finally felt at peace with himself for once. Don't let it end here. It's too soon.
The two men with devices in hand followed their course, a smile forming on their lips in place of the one Starboy had just lost when they realized there was not one, not two, but three metas right in their grasp. Past the freezer isle, past the canned goods, and into the cereals and juices, where they stood, unprotected and vulnerable.
Mason felt his heart breaking as he heard the soles of shoes against the linoleum. He knew he had been foolish to relax, to think himself safe. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His breath left him when the men came into view and without realizing, he grabbed Crow's arm.
"Shit." Just under his breath, so as not to be a bad influence on the kid.
"Don't grab me," Crow muttered softly, raising her arm to put pressure against her temple. "Grab him."
She nodded towards the young boy, Max, her expression struggling to remain neutral. Yet, the turbulent emotions coursing through her found their way free, bit by bit, and the closer the two SPME agents got, the more Crow seemed to panic.
But she wasn't a child any longer... and the only power they hold over her remained in that of her nightmares. The years had changed her and she'd die with no qualms if she fought to her last breath against their tyranny.
"Leave the carts." Crow bit out, walking up to Max's mother. Without regard to what may come next, Crow reached out and gently touched the side of the woman's head.
Crow read her mind.
In the span of a heartbeat she knew so much... So much of her life, of Max's. The influx of information was still a rush, but since her employment began with Starboy, it had lessened greatly.
"I need you to trust us, Marcy. In thirty two seconds, two men are going to walk down this isle, identify us, and then have this place swarming with agents. No-no, look at me, please, we don't have a lot of time.
"I know about the weird things that have happened with Max, Starboy and I," Crow gestured between herself and Starboy, fear vibrant in her eyes. "We do weird things too. And those men, they'll take him away from you. Like they did to us and our parents. C'mon,"
She pulled on the woman's arm and gestured frantically at Starboy.
"If we all stay close enough my 'shield can protect us all."
Mason's eyes widened as Crow spoke and his gaze traveled to the adorable young boy. Him? A meta? He was struck with shock. The world was fucking cruel. It was one thing, the two of them.. adults born into this chaos. He couldn't help but think about Crow, think about how young she was when the SPME got her. They'd had a strangled conversation about it.
It wouldn't happen to him. Not to Marcy and to Max -- he wouldn't let it, Crow wouldn't let it.. they wouldn't let it.
Marcy's breath quickened and Starboy strode in their direction. She didn't know these people, but she had seen the kindness in their eyes and she knew of her son's.. strange occurrences. So she nodded, fervently, and Starboy was so desperately grateful. Marcy smiled down at Max and pulled him onto her hip.
As Starboy huddled close to Crow, he took a deep breath in and let the glow of the stars fall into him. His eyes shone cerulean blue and he desperately nodded his head down the isle towards the back. "There's a back exit." He could see Max's big eyes, staring up at him as he clung to his mother with small hands. Starboy hoped he didn't look that scary.
"Back exit and then.. l-l..eft..?" His glow flickered, and Mason's brows furrowed as he tried to regain it. "I'm.. something's... weird." It wasn't.. it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't his powers being tampered with, not yet. It was something.. new.
"I have to go another way." He said, suddenly struck with confidence. "You.. you take a left and you go out the back exit, five hundred and twenty eight feet to a dark alley between 1st and Norton, then turn right on Collins.. you'll be fine. I'm going another way. You'll be fine."
Eyes wide and feral, Crow tugged both Starboy and Marcy towards the exit he had described, not wasting a moment. But there was a knife in the bottom of her gut, twisting back and forth, just like the decision she knew she had to make. A decision that could cost Starboy his life.
Three steps before the exit, Crow extended her ‘field forcefully, wrapping a protective and nearly impenetrable layer of energy around herself and the trio in front of her. Sparing a single instance of reflection, she looked between the man she was hired to protect… and a single mother and her son, doomed to the same fate both she and Starboy had succumbed to.
Angry, mad that the choice lied upon her shoulders, Crow spun on her heel and pushed the door open, nearly blasting it off its hinges. She half expected there to be a squad waiting for them, but their luck and Starboy’s pathfinding proved fruitful, and the way was clear.
So why can’t he just come with me!
She pulled them both through the threshold, careful to keep a secure and steady grip on Marcy and Max. Her eyes, however, were trained on Starboy’s and a flash of emotions suddenly shone through them. Anger. Guilt. Betrayal. Pride. In the short time that she had known him, nearly three and a half months, Starboy had become a catalyst in an uplifting change in her life.
“Just come with us,” Crow pleaded, already sidestepping away, “Starboy I can’t protect you if I’m not with you. Just come with us, we can get away together. Please!”