Don't Anger A Necromancer (JP)

Governer Conrad stiffened as he stared at Lydia and Kyra. His gaze flicking between them. "We have been taken by force and brought to some dark, unknown location. Forgive us if we aren't ready to chat." He said, desperation weighing heavy in his voice.

"I went about this the wrong way, I'll admit that." Lydia responded, sitting with her back straight.

"We could have you executed for this! You're all filth!" The senator shouted, a string of spit flying off his lip.

Lydia stood up quickly enough the her chair flew back and both men straightened their posture. The room had gone silent. "You might be right, Senator." She started, her brow narrowed with a sort of disgust. "I am filth. I'm filth because my first plan of action was to slaughter you on television for everyone to see. I wanted to watch you die." Her voice was calm, but such harsh words from someone so young painted a chilling atmosphere. "But my new friend here" She said, motioning to Cyrus. "He offered me some advice. He said that we shouldnt stoop to that level, because then we become what you dear we are." She stood behind the senator now. His breathing quickened, but he stared straight ahead, ignoring that she was nearly breathing on his neck. "So, would you rather I do things his way, and show you some memories from my lovely friend Kyra." She extended her arm towards Kyra. "Or. Would you rather do things my way" She whispered in his ear with a smile.

Cynthia sighed, loosing a breath that she didn't know had been stuck in her throat. there it is she thought to herself. Lydia, the terrifying teenage telepath. There'd been rumors that Lydia had killed Malik by forcing him to kill himself - she ignored those rumors at first. But now, hearing that rumor for the first time felt like a fresh experience and less of a memory (edited)

Kyra silently stepped forward and set a hand onto Lydia's arm so that she could send her own memories into the man's mind. If he did choose to go with this plan, he would witness all the hardships that Kyra had faced, having to survive on the streets of cities and towns. Her life had been a rough one, joining a gang and doing whatever was necessary just to get enough money for food. That family, most human, but some mutants, had trained her and taken care of her after her father's death, after the nightmares the Rupture had brought on the world. There was a beauty in it - normal people and mutants living in harmony...

Cyrus lit a cigarette as the girls interrogated their hostages. It'd been a while since he'd been in a wail room, though there was a distinct lack of iron in the air this time. Cyrus watched the men's nonverbals. A twitch here, a smirk there. The little micro expressions that most people don't pay attention to, they add up to tell a story. Just like letters. String enough together and you have a word, and after a few words you have a sentence.

Dalton Conrad was probably the most boring politician Cyrus had ever met. He wondered if the man would recognize him. Best he didn't. Right now, however, he was a cinematic masterpiece. The terror and despair complimented each other to put Kafka to shame. What little secrets would pour from his mind? The mind boggles. "How long does this usually take?" Cyrus piped up from the background.

Lydia shot a glance towards Cyrus. "I can make it go faster" She offered, the corners of her lips just barely tugging upwards in an almost sarcastic grin - but not quite.

Prescott sneered and sat back, shifting his weight against the ropes that bound him. "I'd rather die than be touch by you."

Lydia grinned. "We can arrange that." She moved towards the governer, who immediately agreed to doing things her way when she approached. Lydia locked eyes with the man, hypnotizing him without a single touch. Kyra touching Lydia's arm was enough of a physical bridge for her to force the images, emotions, trauma, and memories of Kyra into the governer.

"It usually only takes a few minutes." Cynthia whispered to Cyrus. She had turned away and was facing the wall behind them. It was easier for her to pretend that everything was fine than it was to watch a mutants force their power on a human

"If the man doesn't want to be touched, I'm his huckleberry." Cyrus jeered, quoting yet another old tims action hero. He took another drag off his cigarette, then dropped it to the ground.

Kyra closed her eyes, letting her memories swim through and cross that bridge. It always felt invasive and wrong to let another person see the world from her perspective, but she never let her face change or show any emotion. She'd trained herself in a way that she could keep her expressions to herself, let everyone think she was just this wild woman that was outgoing and happy all the time.

The truth was hidden in her past, though. She had faced people, killed people that had attacked her for no reason...

Once the memories had gone through to the governer, she pulled her hand away. She didn't want them seeing more than they needed to - there were some things betteer left locked away. "That's enough," She said and stepped back, looking toward Cynthia. "Looking away doesn't make it disappear. We do what we have to." Adjusting the strap to her case, she stepped around the governer and Lydia so she could stand in front of Prescott, stared at him with a coldness in her eyes she rarely showed.

She wanted to do something horrible to him, but was keeping good control over herself.