January 11th, 2109

"M-mom... Mom! I can't breathe!" Wheezing. Gasping. A thunderous pounding in her ears and chest. She could've sworn her ribs cracked under impact. A small clammy hand clung to her mother's blouse, focusing desperately on the comforting touch weaving through her blonde waves.

"Not too loud," she whispered. A chaste peck to her daughter's forehead. "You're okay, love. You're alright. Count out your breaths, just like we practiced. In for eight..."

"I-in for eight," Nellie echoed, her voice crumbling like coal on embers. Heat and fear flushed her cheeks a deep pink, but she did her best to follow her mother's instructions.

"Hold for five."

Something inside Nellie roared and rumbled in displeasure, bubbling in her ears like a witch's cauldron. Dry--her tongue felt so unbearably dry. And yet, she pushed through the discomfort and held her breath for dear life. Her grip on the blouse strengthened.

"And now," their foreheads gently touched, "Let it go for eight more."

And so Nellie did. They repeated the process over and over until the tightness in her chest uncoiled, until the frightening sensation in her veins softened to silence.

"S-sorry," Nellie whispered, the shame heavy on her tongue, "I shouldn't have l-lost my inhaler."

"You're twelve and forgetful," her mother chuckled. There could never be a sound in the world more tender and warm than that laugh. "It happens, love. I'll make you another. For now, just remember to breathe."

}:{

"Breathe... Remember to breathe..." The mantra was almost soundless under Nellie's breath as she looked out the window, taking in the buildings and patrons speeding by in blurs. However, her gaze was distant. Absent. Her mind had whisked itself away to the paradoxical times of her childhood, when things were much simpler and complicated all at once.

What she wouldn't give to hug her mother again.

"Nellie Bo'Belly? You with me?" Carter called from the driver's seat, vision straying from the street to steal a glance her way. In true Aunty C fashion, he was in possession of one of the most expensive attention-grabbers the automotive world had to offer.

A 21K Vyxen Steel. As far as Nellie could recall, she'd only ever seen commercials of "foxy" badass women ripping through the streets in the vehicle. And those ads were damn new--perhaps a few months since their release. Not many could afford a Vyxen Steel and yet Carter managed to snag himself one through the sheer power of fabulousness (his words, not Nellie's).

"Hm?" Nellie hummed, still distant and studying the view. "Yeah. I'm here, Car."

"In body and dorkitude? Always. But right now? Definitely not in spirit," he countered. Worry bubbled along his skin. "The conference will be over before you know it, honty. No need stressing over it more than you need to."

"Who says I'm stressing?"

"Ten minutes."

Nellie squinted. "Um, ten minutes?"

"Yep. Your leg's been bouncing for ten minutes straight. I was on top of that shit, honty." There was a brief pause; among the silence, Carter reveled in his triumph while Nellie scrambled for a comeback. Predictably, her mind shot blanks. And predictably again, her best friend was incapable of living in the void for long. He rolled his wrist dismissively. "Don't beat yourself up about it. You know me and the science of bouncing go way back."

"Aunty C, come on," Nellie whined while fighting back queasiness. She really didn't need to hear that. At all. She smoothed away frayed bangs from her forehead, before sweeping back to let her fingers interlace at the base of her skull. A defeated sigh escaped her. "Look, yeah. I-I'm a little nervous and you can't blame me. I mean, me? Up there with all the big scary figureheads? S-seriously?" She flopped back into her seat miserably. "I think Creed's just out to get me."

"This'll be good for you, honty," Carter said, "I think dear ole Creed is trying to push you. He knows you can do more. Hell, I definitely know. I still don't get why you keep hiding behind a desk rather than slicing shit up with me in the field."

Nellie's jaw clenched. They'd been over this particular topic millions of times, but her coworker never once showed signs of giving up on it. Nor did the rest of the Pure Bloods. Everyday, without fail, someone complained about her "wasted potential", even after she begged them to understand that the lifestyle of a field agent would severely agitate her asthma and anxiety. If it wasn't for her mother's inhaler and medication, she would've keeled over ages ago.

"I'm good with a computer and organizing, Car. Simple as that. And I can't fight to save my life," she muttered.

"Boop. Pause. Rewind so I can call you out on the bullshit." Ever so slightly, Carter cocked his head to the side with a sassy click of the tongue. "You can't fight? So we're gonna overlook the vending machine? Ya know--when you sorta kinda threw a tantrum and pancake flipped that bitch?"

"I-I didn't flip anything! Or throw any tantrums! It was just--"

"Right. The anxiety." There was no missing the curtness entering his tone. It seemed that patience evaded both of them today. Regardless, like a flip of the switch, his posture deflated and his usual chipperness rolled back in. "Well, enough of that. Point is, you've got this, honty. I can't be there right next to you, but I've got all eyes on the perimeter. Nothing's gonna happen to you on my watch, hear me? Nothing."

Warmth filled Nellie's chest. Despite their squabbling a mere moment ago, her affection for him burned like a beacon and the fact that he always had her safety in mind never failed to reassure her. "Great... Now I'm all gooey," she chuckled, just barely biting back a grin. "Anyway, we almost there?"

"Nope," Carter said. The Vyxen Steel slowed to a stop at the intersection of a four-way street. "Already here."

Police officers and barricades cut off the northern path, which was already overflowing with Trent City civilians, cameramen, and news reporters. A stage stood several feet above their heads and familiar figures shuffled about the platform, preparing themselves for the conference.

"Alright... let's get this over with." Pulling one last puff from her inhaler, Nellie and Carter hopped out into the bustling crowd.

}:{

"It's a joyous day for the people of Trent City."

The mass showered Chief Wilhem with a breed of awe that could fill stadiums, yet remained just quiet enough for his voice to boom overhead through the speakers. The man stood tall and proud behind the podium, his impressive comb mustache catching light from the late midday sun.

"The Mutants of this world believe they are above us. Believe they are stronger. Faster. Gods among mortals." A pregnant pause, echoes trembling through the audience's bones. Nellie stood to the right of Chief Wilhem and Detective Kolkowsky to his left; unlike the ladder's obvious vigilance, the former had a hand pressed over her chest and focusing desperately on pulling in enough air to avoid looking like a humanoid blueberry. Wilhem's fist slammed the podium like the descent of a judge's gavel. "But they are wrong! Ever since the launching of the Pure Blood's Program, we can now roam the sidewalk. Free of fear. Free of the Mutants' tyranny! Because of them!"

He waved a hand towards Nellie, who stiffened at the sudden spotlight. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck as she flashed an uncertain smile. Just as she tried to offer an awkward wave, Wilhem's voice spilled forth once more.

"Their agents work hard and lay down their very lives! For our sake! Without such a steady and strong hand to guide Trent City, we would surely be in dark times." Even when he used the term guide, Nellie couldn't help but hear dictate instead. But, in the end, Pure Bloods were the lesser evil. Pure Bloods gave her Carter, the only family she had in the world. "But now... it's time to strengthen that bond and fully recognize our support and trust in the Pure Bloods Program. Today, ladies and gentlemen of Trent City..."

On the east end of the stage were a short flight of steps, which buckled under the weight of Mr. Creed. Cameras flashed and voices climbed in volume with excitement, and he answered with the perfect politician smile, waving his beefy paw all the while. He closed the distance to accept Chief Wilhem's outstretched hand, giving a firm and respectful shake. Nellie shuffled away a few steps to avoid further unnecessary attention. This was their moment, after all.

As one, Chief and Chairman turned to face the adoring crowd. Wilhelm retracted a handkerchief from his blazer's breast pocket and dabbed at the sweat glistening around his cheeks. "This! This day marks the glorious union of justice and order! The day we pave a true path to peace!"

Cheers erupted and shook the stage under Nellie's feet.

The crackle of something like static.

With a sharp whir, the empty space behind Mr. Creed rippled and twisted into a blue vortex until the center expanded into a human body.

A female.

Leveling a gun at Mr. Creed's head.

Cheers morphed into cries of mass panic.

}:{

Ten Minutes Earlier

"Gimme the headcount, Mous." Leanne pressed two fingers to her ear while peering through the twentieth floor window of an abandoned hotel. From her vantage point, she could spot the crowd, but the Pure Bloods' perimeter was too wide for her to establish a closer post. At most, she could discern the collection of police cars and midnight black Buicks parked near the barricades. The targets themselves were a different story. "Is everyone in place?"

A manic yet timid cackle flowed through the feed.

"Y-yes! I's smell all! Hehee! All of them's, Lea."

Leanne bit back a sigh while checking her handgun's ammo. Five rounds. "That's nice, Mous, but gimme an actual number. You can do this, darling." The pet name seemed to have invigorated Mous with the concentration he needed.

With a stuttering breath, he swallowed down the twitchy excitement long enough to force out, "F-five. All's five."

Leanne's brow furrowed. "Five...?" She glanced back at a lanky male figure draped across a worn couch. Experiencing the same confusion as her, he fussed with the dial on his earpiece a moment, as if suspecting Mous had spoken to the wrong channel. Finally, he shrugged back at the woman. Leanne turned her narrowed chocolate gaze back to the window. "Mous darling? There's only four of us, remember? Ready to pounce and put the big man on his ass."

"No!" A painful screech pierced the feed and made Leanne wince. "N-no! No, no, no! I's the promise, Lea! I-I's smell five of us! There's be the five! Hehe, the five is what's I smell--"

"Okay," Leanne interrupted with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. However, the annoyance faded quicker than it came and a familiar softness coated her tone. "It's okay, darling. I believe you, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there, alright?" A series of incomprehensible mutters was her answer, but she knew it was the best she could wring out of Mous while in such a frazzled state. She switched channels. "Just gimme the word, Nina."

A bubbly female voice carried over. "Roger Dodgers! Eyes are peeled wide open."

"Good." Cutting off the connection, Leanne marched over to her post partner and loomed over him, her long waves of onyx hair spilling past her shoulders and casting a slightly intimidating shadow over the man. The effect was a jarring contrast to her heart-shaped face and youthful eyes, though bags rested underneath them.

Sleep hadn't come easy the past few days.

"I'm as ready as you are," she said. "Up and at 'em, Hazel."

Heaving an over exaggerated groan, Hazel rolled off the dusty piece of furniture like a prisoner preparing himself for death row and staggered to his feet. A ratty sweater and hole-riddled jeans hung off his bony frame; he appeared every bit like an animated skeleton parading around in roadkill for a wig. Basically the personification of a morose trainwreck. "Do I have to?" he whined.

"Yes, you do." Leanne's response came fast--almost too fast. And cracked across Hazel's back like a spiked whip. In an instant, regret toiled in the woman's chest and she placed a tender hand to his cheek. "Sorry, darling. I don't mean to be short with you, just a bit--"

"Tense. I get it, Lea," Hazel muttered. A bittersweetness twisted his smile as he offered a one shoulder shrug. "If I were you, I would've dropped a bomb on their organization by now." His expression faltered with concern. "By the way... if you ever wanna talk about it--"

A clipped sigh escaped Leanne. "We don't have time. Just... do it now. Please?" At first, Hazel parted his lips to argue, only to deflate a moment after in defeat. He'd known Leanne since childhood and was well aware of how unmovable she could be when it came to getting even. It wasn't worth the energy.

"Fine. Keep still. You'll feel a pinch." He carefully cradled Leanne's face and breathed in deep, centering himself. A moment passed. Then another. A wave of tingles rolled through his fingertips into the woman's cheeks, burrowing further and further into her system. Past the skin, skimming muscle, spreading like the interconnection of spider webs. Aside from a gasp and wince, Leanne ignored the invasion. The rearrangement of bones and shifting of body tissue bounced about her skull, more and more until the process came to an abrupt end.

Hazel pulled away. "You've got this for an hour. Use it right."

In place of Leanne's face was one belonging to a completely different woman. Long dark tresses had receded into her scalp and adopted the hue of a platinum blonde shave, eyebrows thickened and darkened, laying on her forehead with a more mellow arch than before, dark brown pupils had lightened a few shades, cheekbones shyly lifted her visage, and the soft curvature of her jaw had squared itself elegantly.

"Don't worry," Leanne said, her foreign lips quirking with a grin, "I plan to and it won't even take an hour." Just as she said this, her and Hazel's earpieces emitted Nina's voice again.

"Creed's on stage!"

The air around Leanne's fingers grew distorted as fire kindled in her eyes. "Showtime." With a grunt, she jumped forth and was immediately swallowed up by her whirlpool of energy.