- AU -

Kneeling on the cold concrete floor, Tom was frowning in concentration as he steadied his gun's barrel to the cell door's lock.

"When will you be done?" Robert Bohm's voice asked irritably.

"It's a tough electronic lock, with a complex mechanical emergency backup. Essentially, if there's a power outage, the mechanical lock kicks in to keep the prisoners inside at all cost. You're not supposed to get out of here unless the guard wants you to. So... yeah, be patient. There's so much a VFE can do," Tom replied.

Bohm sighed, and Tom heard him sit back heavily on his bench.

"I don't know who that voice was... but every fibers of my body don't agree one bit with him."

"Sadly, many will. Hence why I need your help," Tom asked.

"About what? I lost the little power I had," Bohm replied bitterly.

"About various persons we encountered. That lady in a blue suit with her nasty sword-chain, blond-haired, blue eyed. Who's she?"

"Her what?... Absolutely no idea," Bohm answered incredously.

"Allright, what about the orange-haired guy that looks demented?"

"Still no idea. Who are they?"

Tom sighed.

"Henchman (and henchwoman); they were preventing us from getting too close to the truth. With them was an android... first time in my life that I actually got to see one..."

"Do you mean Daniel Fitzgerald? Blond haired, serious-looking, like from a military?" Bohm asked.

Tom rose an eyebrow.

"You know him?"

"Not personally; but it is Randall's spy."

"Please say 'him' and not 'it'. My sister won't let you hear the end of it if you do that mistake. Pronoun aside, how do you know that? And who's Randall?"

"I have my sources, and unlike what people will tell of me, I'm not incompetent when I figure out that something's wrong."

"I don't judge you, mate. But who's Randall, that Daniel works for?"

Bohm's voice became tense and spiteful.

"This country's Presidential Counselor. He's done that job for over 30 years, and who knows how many stupid Presidents like me believed his lies. He orchestrated my arrest, and somehow convinced Carrie that I was a Klavern."

Tom's interest sparked, and he carefully steadied his gun.

"A guy in charge for thirty years, with the power to influence a Vice-President, no less, and who owns as a spy the android assistant of that lady warrior and the lunatic... I think you helped me find exactly who we were looking for."

"Glad I could help. But you won't be able to do a single thing about him. He's too careful. Abraham might be able to gather the population..."

"I'll stop you right here," Tom interrupted him, "he's with them. We got to meet him and know that first-hand."

Bohm sighed, and Tom heard him sit back roughly against the wall.

"I'll be damned. How low has everyone sunk to?"

"Don't worry, once that darn lock opens up, I can take you to them, and we can have a nice little talk in front of everyone."

Bohm smirked.

"I think that invasion out there won't allow us the time."

Heels clicking on the concrete floor resonated along the corridor, and out of intuition, Tom had barely time to roll on the floor before a bullet ricocheted against the cell door.

"Young man, are you alright? What's hap..."

Tom rolled over and aimed toward the end of the corridor, where he knew Ysadora was approaching in her usual catwalk. Another bullet hit him on the shoulder; but his Klevar vest coupled with his unusual ability, Tom felt nothing. He took on more bullets, shielding his face with his left arm while his right hand kept steady as he aimed at her silhouette.

"You've already tried this before, lady, without success. The difference now... I'm pissed at you," he taunted her, his expression unusually stern.

Ysadora laughed as she appeared in full view.

"How scary. A foolish boy who..."

Her sentence got suddenly cut as she gasped in pain, her gun-wielding hand suddenly cramping up and burning with intense heat . Her weapon fell to the ground, and holding her hand, she looked in shock at Tom, whose own misshaped handgun was aimed at her hand. His burning eyes locked in hers, and she wondered at his change of personality from his usual laid back teasing.

"You're not the only ones that understand how frequencies can be weaponized," he coldly told her. "I imagine you've come to assassinate Bohm, given he knows who your boss is? Randall Redspear, was it?"

Ysadora's eyes lit in fear; biting her lips to distract herself from the pain, she unholstered her sword, and unrolled it into its chain form. Tom smiled victoriously.

"Here's what I'm looking for." He pointed his gun to the ceiling. "I'm really happy you put Bohm on the last level of the building. It means that right above us..." he fired his gun, and jumping out of the way, a block of the concrete roof shatteted, "is the roof."

Ysadora glanced quickly at Bohm's cell, her mind analyzing her next moves.

"Oye." Tom's cold voice snapped her out of her thoughts as a pepper projectile smashed against her chest, making her cough. "Focus. You and me, we're going to settle our match on the roof. I'm your obstacle to overcome if you want to reach Bohm, and you're the one responsible for hurting my little sister... twice. Unless you're too hurt to continue fighting..."

Ysadora stared back furiously.

"Don't mistake my surprise at such low blows for weakness; I fight with honour, and cheap pepper won't stop me."

Tom smirked. He aimed at the hole on the ceiling, and his hooked line shot up and grabbed the edge. He smiled challengingly as he pressed the trigger to lift himself up... and faltered quickly. Ysadora rose her eyebrow in bewilderment as the cable was twisted and began to uncoil, swinging Tom in the motion. He wildly spinned and swinged from all sides, frequently hitting the walls in the process, all the way to the top.

Ysadora was still wondering what she jusy saw when Tom scrambled over the opening unto the roof.

He returned to the opening, looking visibly sick, and squatted at the edge; he then took off his coat, and held it wrapped between his two arms.

"Please come on up before I barf."

Ysadora stared him down in a silent challenge, then turned toward Bohm's cell.

"Go ahead; but if you mean to silence him, you're too late. I know who's your real boss and as I suspected, it's not the M.U.T. posing as your new President. But it does bring an interesting parallel: as a M.U.T. myself, Gab told me I could do anything if I think of it."

"Who's Gab?" Ysadora asked despite herself.

"The guy that keeps us alive; and teaches us about these things. So yeah, while you waste time with Bohm, I only need to think real hard and imagine myself appearing wherever this Randall is. I'm not used to it, but I should be there within a minute..."

Ysadora's eyes became a mixture of deep fear and hate. Tom smiled and made to turn away; the rest happened within a few seconds. As Ysadora charged to the ceiling opening as she whipped upward her sword chain, Tom caught it with his coat-protected arms, and wrapped it around while creeping backward, as it pulled Ysadora up (in the process banging her against the walls in the same way as Tom).

"That's more like it," he struggled, proud of his taunts.

When Ysadora reached the roof, trying to hide her wincing, they were now merely a few feet from each other, she still firmly tugging on her sword-chain, while Tom struggled to wrap it around his coat. Finally, with a twist of his body, he snapped it off of her grip, and threw the tangled mess over the side of the roof.

"No!" Ysadora yelled as she ran to see where it fell, a few stories below, precariously hanging by the emergency stairs' railings.

Meanwhile, Tom crouched once again by the ceilling opening, and threw down his gun at the slot of Bohm's cell door.

"Everything's set up; just hold the barrel against where the lock is approximately located on your side, and press the trigger until you hear it open," he shouted at Bohm.

Bohm reached his hand across the slot and picked it up.

"I'll borrow it for freeing Frances as well," he shouted back.

"By all means... Ouf!" Tom began to reply until a powerful kick on his ribs made him stumble.

"Focus," Ysadora fiercely said.

Tom rose to his feet, realizing how it hurted more than he remembered, and they faced each other, their bodies primed and alert at each other's next moves.

"Arrogant men all think alike," she said. "You take away my weapons, and you think yourself stronger."

She lunged at Tom and threw a powerful punch... which he countered with his bare arms, not flinching one bit. She looked surprised, then attacked him with a kick at the knees; but once again, he countered it without a reaction by kneeling and receiving the force of it on his thigh.

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"I don't think that of you," Tom said, smiling as he kept his knelt position. "I just want to be on the same skill level. You're strong and powerful; but I have a different skill: I will tough out your attacks until you exhaust yourself, and still come out relatively unsored."

"You're cheating, M.U.T.!" she spat.

She sidestepped, subtly leaned her weight on one leg, and feinted a hook to Tom's head. He raised his arms to block it... Got you, she thought proudly, as her free leg immediately sprang to action and hit Tom square in the soft spot of his back.

Tom coughed and he difficultly rose to his feet, reassuming his defense position.

"I'm a gentleman; I'm more than capable of holding my own without cheating."

"Why... do... you... BOTHER?" she retorted angrily, charging at him with an elbow hit.

Tom pared it, and had to lift his leg up as she followed with a upwars knee hit.

"Because you and your boss are picking on the weak; and I've seen enough of that. For once, the weak will fight you back."

Ysadora's face became feral, and she didn't lose time to circle around Tom and throw another punch. Tom deflected it with one arm and sidekicked her hip, enough to make her step back.

"Fight me, or don't fight at all!" she snarled.

"I don't want to hurt you. You'll exhaust yourself soon enough, and then I can capture you and make you lead me to your boss."

"Tough chance," she replied heatedly. "I won't let you get anywhere near my boss; and to be sure, I'll take down your sister once and for all."

She regained her stance, and relaxed her body; it was an essential technique, to relax and then to spring into action. She approached Tom calmly but carefully; she needed to be close for her elbows, knees and clinches to work. No more playing around, no more safe zones. She would probably get hit; but she had an advantage. Tom wasn't aiming to harm her, but she was smarter: all her hits will be meant to knock him out.

Tom merely smiled, and rose one arm.

"Since you're bent on irking me about hurting my sister, let me tell you a story..."

"I don't care about any of your damn stories! Just drop dead, already!" Ysadora exclaimed, backing up her words with a feint punch; Tom blocked it, and knowing her next move, raised his leg to block her following kick. They began sparring, each figuring out the weak spots.

"Just saying, your moves are predictable. Anyways, back to the story: so, when we were young, our parents decided that enlightenment of the mind came from rigorously training our bodies. So when my sister wasn't even ten years old, our father enlisted us with a secretive martial arts 'master', who insisted we knew him only by 'Sensei'... Only, he wasn't there to teach us; he was there to unleash his anger and his stress on us kids. Using the training as an excuse and cover-up for the bruises, he beat us up. I was the male, a young boy, fifteen years of age, and the 'competition' to the alpha male of the studio: the master. And so, he would target me, while my sister was forced to watch..."

Ysadora finally scored during a spar, sidestepping in an unpredictable location and hitting Tom once again in the ribs. Tom doubled over, wincing. Ysadora scorned as she stepped back, allowing her body to temporarily rest. She was using more legwork than she usually did, and she felt the soreness creeping slowly in her limbs.

"I said, I don't want to hear your wimpy story."

Tom wiggled his own fatigued body; he was lucky he was merely deflecting most of the hits instead of wasting energy attacking.

"Shush, and listen," he continued, Ysadora grunting in frustration and charging at him for another sparring round. "Our parents wouldn't believe us kids that our sessions were merely anger-relief. The few times they would assist to figure out what was going on, the teacher would act up a normal session. So they told us to toughen up, stop daydreaming, and concentrate on the lessons instead of complaining. So it went on."

"As it should, you weak backbones! Do you know what kind of training I..." Ysadora's sentence ended with a gasp, as Tom maneuvered around her attacks to hit her plexus with his palm.

"Whatever. One day, I got tired. I had enough of the hits, of the bruises, of the shame. And my sister felt it. So when the time came, she put herself in front of me, and volunteered for the 'training'. The master hated me for not stopping her, so he laid it off on her. She cried, and he beat her up even more, and she would cry even more.

>> I felt ashamed of myself, ashamed of having faltered one day. The cost of me becoming tired, was making my little sister go through the biggest hell one could imagine. I cried my fill when the night came, and I knew she didn't slept either. That night, I promised myself one thing. Never I will allow my sister to go through anything like that ever again. And so, I trained, for a completely different technique and reason: I trained to strengthen my arms and my legs so that I would no longer feel pain there. And from that moment on, I took head-on the wrath of our teacher; and the last time he attempted to use my sister instead of me, I let him know my thoughts."

On that last word, he deflected her roundback kick and pushed once again Ysadora's chest, and she tripped over. She looked up at him, not believing her eyes at the outcome. Without once truly hurting her, he managed to stand strong against hits that would have K-Oed anyone after not even a minute; and here they were sparring since nearly five minutes. Tom glared at her.

"And so, don't mistake my kindness for my weakness. When you see my sister, it'll be on my terms."

She attempted to stand back, but realized with a shock that her body had been exhausted. Losing her weapons had forced her to use brute physical power. Despite figuring out that only his limbs were numb to pain, but not the rest of his body, she lost her advantages hitting those weaknesses by merely his stubborn endurance.

"That's impossible..." she whispered, ashamed.

"Ready to take me to your boss?" Tom asked her. A spasm in his back muscle and ribs suddenly made him double over, Ysadora's hits finally reaching full effect. Then he suddenly exclaimed in surprise and pain.

A sharp object had whipped against his head, and both Tom and Ysadora looked at the edge of the roof in surprise.

"Randall! Don't use it, you don't have the antidote!" Ysadora yelled in panic.

Randall was standing near the edge, his black car hovering behind him. He was uncertainly handling her sword-chain, and threw another swing at Tom, trying to aim once again at the head.

"Get in the car, idiot," he yelled back at her.

She didn't need to be told twice: gathering the leftover of her strength, she ran to him as Tom ducked the clumsy attack. As she lunged through the open door of the car, a bullet ricocheted against it, passing a mere inch from Randall.

"Don't!" Tom shouted, running to put himself between Randall and the shooter.

Robert Bohm cursed as Randall hurried to enter in the car as well, and attempted to aim after him, holding Tom's gun.

"I said, don't!" Tom angrily repeated, running to Bohm and snatching his gun away. "I won't allow you to kill someone with my gun!"

"But they're getting away!" Bohm protested furiously.

"They're unarmed, and besides, they'll get stuck in the traffic; the highways and airways are jammed. Oh... hello."

Tom suddenky interrupted as a second black car similar to Randall's sped by the building; only this time, the driver was Abraham.

"See you later!" Tom wished Bohm as he aimed his gun at Abraham's car, and fired.

The hooked, one mile long cable flung straight at the cat, and latched itself unto the bumper.

"Woah!" Tom exclaimed as he jolted into the air, and over 500 meters of sky beneath him, as the gun's mechanism winded the cable.

"Oh no, not again," he realized too late as the cable uncoiled and made him once again spin and swing, this time freely.

He crash-landed with a 'Oumph' against the back windshield, and he winced, sure he had finally broken a rib or something like that. Feeling extremely dizzy from the unpleasant flight, he gripped himself tightly to the car as Abraham swivelled to catch him offguard. Tired of the motion sickness, he smashed the window with his gun's handle, and slipped inside the car. Abraham attempted an elbow punch within the confinement of the seat, which Tom easily countered.

"Hiya! Mind if I tie you up? My sister's got some questions for you," Tom smirked before using the cable of his gun to wrap Abraham around his seat. "And if you don't mind, I'll drive."