The Next Stage: Awakening

Dawn

Dawn shook off clumps of mud that clung to her. She sighed. She has been living like this for as long as she could remember. The only remedy she had for her itch for comfort was that they were on the wrong side of the law, and the law was wrong. Someday they will be in their rightful place, and earth will be restored-- hopefully. Some times of the day she caught herself wishing under her breath that the time when things would change would be in her lifetime, but at the rate things were going, wishing was futile.

She grudgingly brushed aside some leaves that concealed her dimension portal. With another deep breath, she stepped into the whirling mass of the sky blue substance, neither solid, liquid, gas, nor plasma. She was nervous. She didn't need to be, but she was. Her father would be waiting for her when she got back, and that was never pleasant. She's sixteen years old, she's been repeatedly rebuked, reprimanded, scolded, and sent to  the corner by her father. She thought she would be used to it by now. But she wasn't. Sixteen years of daddy's tough love was not enough to callous her soft heart, though she tried to act like it.

She closed her eyes and let the substance of her own creation flow through her, gently caressing her head and stroking her hair. She felt her body revitalized and even cleansed.

Suddenly she forgot everything. For a moment, it seemed that she was not even aware of her very existence. She savored every second of this. It was like cold water to the parched throat of her soul, but she knew not to drink to greedily, because her glass could run out any second. And when it did, there she was again, in the dark, dank, dusty world of reality. Her reality.

She opened her eyes, and they were met with the rusted surface of the door of an abnormally large refrigerator that was fitted with a make-shift toilet. This served as one of their outhouses. And it was one of her most favorite spots to create a portal due to its isolation and repulsive smell that kept even the most tolerant of their group from going near it. She was used to the smell.

She made her way to the command deck, which was the penthouse of an abandoned hotel that stood right in front of the Eiffel Tower. The hotel also served as their headquarters.

She passed Cevon, who had his arm around Remn. The gesture looked more restraining than friendly. Remn's look of stilfed annoyance added to the latter notion. The two seemed  to be having a hushed tete-a-tete, or rather a hushed, one-sided conversation.

She waved at Cevon, who turned his head, grinned, and went back to torturing Remn. She completely ignored Remn.

If there was one thing that annoyed her the most about this infernal headquarters, it was the fact that there was no elevator. Omen, the friendly,neighborhood-rebel-genius,tech-boy wonder could not make an elevator ,and yet he made comms that could reach across dimensions and repair machines that were deemed irrepairable. That useless dork! 

Dawn took the stairs. She could sprint up 145 floors no problem. No problem at all. 

She could feel her very hairs scream in pain when she reached the penthouse. And sure enough, there was Thorne, the dreaded daddy-o himself. His large arms crossed over his chest. This would have looked menacing if it weren't for his belly. Old friends of his claimed that he used to be the fittest among the whole group. Did she believe it? No.

Thorne had a stern face. His jaw was constantly clenched, and his gaze would bore wholes into Medusa's eyes. He tapped at an invisible clock on his wrist. Dawn rolled her eyes. She would never tire of her father's affection. Oh, she would never.

Thorne shook his head, but to Dawn's surprise, he didn't scold her. Apparently there was something even more pressing than the rebellious acts of his belovedly delinquent daughter. A sudden and unexlained spark of excitement ran over her. Something was happening. Were they finally about to make a move? When? How? Who would be a part of it?