With his back still at the concrete, Alex caught a glimpse of Marcus coming out of the orphanage, his expression a mix of determination and worry. Trying not to act worried himself, Alex hoped he wasn't doing something stupid, aside from coming into a line, if not a double line, of fire. Then, another shot rang out, this one sounding like a repeater pistol.
"
Why does he keep lessening his caliber?" Alex thought. He then shot another look at Marcus, and it was then that he saw that the round had punched a hole in his jeans, Marcus limping as result.
Even though he wasn't trying to hold his hands over the wound, Alex wasted no time taking his gloves off. If Marcus was harmed, he had to try and do something to safeguard him as well. He was no Green Lantern, though; thinning the concrete block behind him would make both of them vulnerable to another rifle shot if that came about.
That thought however was thrust aside as Alex pressed his hands against the cold slab, focusing on a shape that, even if it was crude, would at least give Marcus something to hide behind. The slab of stone began to flatten and expand up and to the sides in a circle, but the process was slower than usual because of his earlier grave shaping.
[hr]
Ultraman950 said:
"Please stop calling me that. I'm only 19. My name's Dawn."
Phantom rolled his eyes outside of Dawn's view when he heard that. "Sorry. I just do that without thinking these days." Stepping towards one of the back bedrooms, he continued. "Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I need to make a call real fast."
Closing the door behind him, he was now standing inside the room he used as his bedroom. It wasn't much to look at, just like the rest of his place, but compared to the headquarters of his group, regardless of illumination, it was more of a comfort zone. Over the years, he had even customized a network of old air ducts to let him move around his place while barely lifting one leg. For now, however, he would have to refrain from using them.
On a desk near the window to the room, he had set up a radio to listen in on police wavebands. Following the death of Mitch, he wondered just how much damage had been done to the whole of NYC. It had to be considerable no matter how he looked at it. Still, he had work to do.
Hopeful that he would hear something good from the other end of the line, Phantom fished an earpiece and two-way radio out from his pockets, slipping the earpiece on. He turned on the radio to little static, meaning it was still tuned to the right frequency, but he double checked just to be sure.
Pressing a button on part of the device, he briefly spoke into the radio itself. "I have a dissenter."
