#v. curled up like a fist protesting death. brotherhood.

[ncrosha]

"if i can hide from cerebro, i can hide from magneto." he waves a hand dismissively. "they know better than to get involved in my business anyway."

it's a little jarring. knowing his full power and wielding it with confidence. he's still learning, still delving into the depths, but the shift in attitude is all it takes for everyone to give a wide berth.

it's liberating.

it's terrifying.

it's isolating.

"as long as i can go home when you're home, we're good."

"Well jeez, Foley, what else am I supposed to think?" He huffed, shaking his head quickly. "Sorry -- you're right. That makes sense. But -- you'd have to promise those guys will not know where I live. I put a lot of legwork into keeping off the radar, I'd like it to stay that way."

Sighing heavily, Julian started walking again. There was an all-night diner on one corner he remembered liking when Manhattan was a fun stomping ground. He was feeling breakfasty. "I've got a few more days before they want me back on shift. I guess we can figure out a schedule."

[ncrosha]

15:36: I dunno, because I totally ghosted you for like... what. Six years? That feels punch worthy. 15:36: Plus showing up on your doorstep, like, disrupting your whole day. 15:37: Also not telling anyone I'm back.

Murdering Wither also feels pretty punchable, but he's not going to bring that up himself.

15:37: You're the only one who knows, by the way. I can't stop you from telling anyone else. It's not like it's gonna be a secret forever, and like obviously I'm not in hiding, but it's... 15:37: I've got a lot of shit going on. like personally. Don't have a lot of down time. 15:37: But what else is new.

And there's Julian, raising his eyes from his phone for a moment to pinch his nose lightly. Feeling foolish because of course Josh had sensed it. But it had been so long since he'd been around other mutants, especially not ones who could read him like that, and the headache had made him forget exactly what had pushed him over the edge last night.

At least his appetite was coming back now that he'd gotten some sleep. There wasn't a whole lot in his fridge, but he dug a couple of frozen burritos from the back of his freezer, so those went into the microwave.

15:20: Right. Duh. Headache. 15:24: Why the hell would I punch you though? It's not like it's your fault. 15:35: I mean the drunk texts, anyway. I don't usually do shit like that, I just got a little rattled.

At which point his phone dinged in a different noise -- Laura had finally gotten back to him. He actually chuckled softly, the message basically boiled down to "not only am I not surprised but I don't care unless your life is actively in danger."

Typical Laura.

[ncrosha]

"did i say i'd take her up to asteroid m?" josh shoots the other man an annoyed look. "i'd come down here, obviously. babsit in your apartment. i think i'm just about the only guy that doesn't have any separate living space right now so it's not like it'd be weird."

and if he's needed for an emergency, well. that's what teleporters are for.

though part of him is surprised he'd even offer. given how much effort he'd put into cutting ties with anyone on earth... maybe that was why.

maybe he was just that lonely, the first chance to be useful short-circuited him and had him offering whatever help he could.

"Mm, right..." Okay, so that option was out the window. Not that he'd wanted to throw himself at the mercy of Emma Frost, after everything, but it wasn't like he had much choice these days. And if Julian really took the time to analyze it, what he was saying without saying it was just how far he was willing to go for this kid.

Just to make sure she didn't turn out like them. Or worse.

His feet stopped then, and he turned slowly to look at Josh. "You're not serious. You just admitted you're shackin' up in Moonbase Magneto." The laugh was soft, incredulous. "Say I take you up on it. You're, what, gonna take her up there with you? No way. Don't want her anywhere near those guys."

[ncrosha]

There are no leads.

It's frustrating in a way he's not used to.. Josh has never been the leader of - anything. He's always been a follower. A yes-man. Never had to think about things like this, and he's finding he's not terribly cut out for it.

Healing's the easy part of his job. Reviving the dead is the easy part of his job. This investigative shit?

God, he's tired.

By the time he gets back to his room Julian's recovered from his misadventures. A smile smile tugs as his lips as he settles back down into bed

15:03: Good. Was kinda worried the hangover got you. 15:03: you don't need to tell ME how bad your body needs a break, dude. 15:04: Could send your sleep dep from where i was standing.

He scrubs a hand down his face, staring up at the ceiling and - tries not to think about how Julian'd been left behind to deal with the risk of terrigen mists on his own. Josh hadn't expected anyone to come find him and offer him a chance to escape into Limbo (he wouldn't have taken it if they had, the coward he is) but Julian felt like another story entirely.

One arm folds behind his head, lips pressing to a thing line.

15:08: And it's cool, man. 15:08: It's not like you didn't say anything untrue. I'm surprised you didn't just clock me.

He knew well enough how to take care of a hangover, he'd babysat both patients and his squadmates through plenty, but it didn't make it easier when it was himself he had to pull out of the shit. Of course he'd slammed back a fistful of aspirin, chugged a bottle of water, made himself choke down one of the barbecue sandwiches.

Threw it all back up again ten minutes later.

Once he'd managed to repeat the process and clean up the mess, he pointedly did not look at his phone as it repeatedly lit up, instead setting it facedown on his side table and crawling onto his bed. He managed to sleep a little, but eventually he had to get up. Had to face this, had to come to terms with whatever the fuck was going in.

He wasn't a praying man, but Julian sent a none-too-gentle warning to whatever was running the show that if this was the start of another one of those world-altering events, he wasn't playing the game this time.

He read over the messages, the cold reflux rising in his chest again. Josh hadn't been dead at all. And -- fuck, Genosha?

Nobody goes to fucking Genosha.

13:24: You'll be pleased to know I have survived the night of liver torture 13:39: Not that it really matters, my body's a wreck from months of 24 hour days. Once I get my nursing cert I can shift to 12s. 13:52: but that does make sense. I was down with the Pox for all that, so I wasn't exactly in my right mind. 14:15: I'm real sorry about all that last night.

[ncrosha]

Once upon a time, Josh had been a prolific texter. The kind of friend you regret giving a number to. The kind of kid teachers immediately confiscate the phone of at the start of class. He'd been so starved for attention that he'd needed it, that constant connection to anyone and everyone and kept them up when he couldn't sleep.

And, well, even before he'd joined the X-Force there was a lot that kept him up. More and more pressure, mounting higher and higher, crushing him into the mattress and leaving him begging for any distraction.

It had started with Wing. M-Day. DJ... Laurie.

He hadn't noticed himself pulling away. Not until he'd opened his phone one day into his X-Force tenure and realized he'd left everyone on read for several days. They'd been worried. Asking where the hell he was, because he hadn't even delivered a convincing excuse as to why he'd be gone for the next few days. He'd -- tried to be normal. Make it seem like his brother's had proposed a trip last minute to reconnect, but he was pretty sure nobody was buying it when he came back.

And then he was gone.

Bleary eyes stare at the texts uncomprehendingly, forgetting that he's twenty-something and not sixteen. It's one confusing, blissful moment of wondering why the hell Julian is drunk texting him before reality comes crashing back down.

He sets the phone aside. Intending to leave it where it lay, get on with his usual routine - but he stays weighted to the spot. Eventually reaching over and, reluctantly, typing a response.

7:52: Sorry. I know that doesn't change anything, but I am. 7:52: You deserve some answers.

He takes a steadying breath. The cat was already out of the bag. Why bother hiding it further? He doesn't need to tell Julian about - the before. The years on the streets, the desperation to block out the trauma, all the bad choices that'd eventually lead to living in literal rubble like that could ever be more than bad memories.

But he'd been haunted. Hunted. Depressing shit nobody needs to know.

7:58: These guys were taking out healers in case we could cure the M-Pox. They attacked the shelter I was staying at and killed everybody, then killed me. 8:15: I think my family buried me. Maybe my brothers, I dunno. Whoever did it wasn't visiting or they would've noticed the hole I dug out. 8:16: Dunno how long I was back for before someone noticed and found me... Long enough to get to Genosha, I guess. I was found there about a year after I got shot. 9:00: Anyway listen, dude. I'm fine now. Got my "didn't survive the experience" t-shirt and everything. 12:02: Please drink someone water and take care of that hangover. I'm not worth torturing your liver over, you totally know this.

He wound up throwing the bag of sandwiches into his fridge after finally picking himself off the floor; appetite thoroughly lost, the spiral picking up steam. The only person he texted was Laura, a cryptic text that basically said "nobody fucking stays dead anymore" before he put his phone on its charging dock. Turning on the TV in his bedroom he put it on a show he'd seen before, just some mental comfort food to try to pull himself out of the shit.

Didn't help much. Cried again once he'd dropped himself on his bed.

Once that passed he spent a good few hours completely zoned out, watching the show without really caring, staring into the middle distance trying not to think about the bottle of vodka in the back of his freezer. Left over from the little apartment-warming Cessily and Laura had insisted upon, that only they ended up attending. Hadn't been touched since.

Fuck it. He was off the next couple of days.

His feet had hit the floor when Julian noticed the phone screen light up. A flick of a little TK and it dropped into his palm so he could see the message.

Unknown number. Frustratingly short message.

"Well no shit, Sherlock," he muttered, tossing the phone on his bed before heading into the kitchen. One glass. Calm his nerves. Get him out of his head.

Somewhere between glass three and four he'd picked the phone back up. He woke up several hours later on his couch with a splitting headache, the sun lancing between his blinds straight into his eyes, the empty bottle on the floor and--

"Aw, Jesus."

20:47: Fuck you, Foley. 20:53: I'm sorry. I don't mean that. 21:38: You just fuckin show up outof th blue and expect me not to worry about where the fuck you've been 22:19: They didnt even tell me where you were buried I didnt even know u were dead for like a year 23:20: when the fk did u even come back 01:54: fuck i dranke too fas 02:38: thats better i thru up 03:02: im sorry. fuck u. i fuckin missed u

[ncrosha]

It's a few hours before he sends the text. It's written the moment his feet hit the floor of the space station, but he spends a good two horus staring at it.

Hey. It's me.

And then he's tossing the phone onto his bed before, abandoning it for the war room.

Debriefings have to happen. A thorough explanation of his search has to be given, detailing every nook and cranny he'd gone through. I don't know if still there, he says. But if they are they're not using any of the hospitals as a base of operations. If we're going to be checking walk-in clinics then we need a bigger team, and more evidence there's activity worth investigating.

He doesn't mention he's established a contact who'll alert him to any such activity. Julian doesn't want to be involved, and he doesn't want to open that particular door unless he has to.

A few other potential cities are scouted as potential sites. This is still his mission, he can't do much for the rest of what's tabled - breaking mutant kids out of O*N*E facilities is beyond his scope of expertise.

And according to what he's managed to dig up, all signs still point to Julian's sleepy little city.

A few hours later he's walking back into his room, collapsing bodily into his bed and into a deep, unabiding sleep before he even thinks to check his messages.

"Shut up, Foley." It, and the soft laugh, are out before he really realizes it, and it hurts how good it feels to forget it all for just a minute. Some impulses just didn't go away with time, he supposed. Josh made bad jokes, Julian chided him for it. The universe in balance.

He wished they could talk more. He wasn't sure what the hell they'd talk about, other than filling Josh in on things he missed and pointedly not talking about the hell they both went through. He almost asked Josh to come back to his place.

Josh was already leaving.

"Y-yeah. I still have to let the school know but--" he sighed, pushing that rebellious forelock out of his face again. "I'll give you as much of a head start as I can. Whatever it is you're up to better be important."

And then he was watching Josh's back as he walked off, turned a corner. Wondering if he should stop him, make him stay, tell the others...

He noticed people looking. He'd gotten so worked up a few small objects had floated out of a nearby trash can. He shook himself and let it go, pushing off the ground because fuck it, he wanted to be home and his was one of the few apartments with a balcony. At least Josh didn't have to see him blubber like a fool as his back hit the door the minute he entered the apartment.

[ncrosha]

"Oh, you know me, man. Trouble loves me." A smile, something closer to real this time, lopsided and easy, lights up his face as he looks up to watch Julian go.

It feels like a good ending point. Josh straightens up and turns to go, ready to give the signal to be ported out of here once he's out of sight.

Yet he pauses once more.

"Call me first if you can.... and that goes for if you're ever in trouble too."

And then he's gone.

Being legally dead has its fair share of problems, including getting any of his old accounts reopened. The number Josh inevitably texts him from isn't a real number. It can't be given out, communication only cleared for this one number. Something encrypted, impossible to track, and hard-wired to alert the whole goddamn team if something goes wrong.

He's not much of a texter these days, either. Messages will be read, then largely ignored. Another hurdle. But the connection is there.

Where there had been a mild smile, suddenly the frown was back, his eyes clouding over and the hardness coming back in. The warning made his chest tighten around something hot, an old wound long thought healed that had just been torn open. M-Day. Terrigenesis. M-Pox. Was the cycle repeating?

Didn't it always?

He didn't try to see who Josh was texting, though he did wonder about it, because it wasn't the usual texting-somebody-so-they-have-your-number trick, since his own phone didn't go off in his pocket. Probably that ride, that contact he was talking about. Did he want to know? Get involved?

Probably not. Josh had always managed to fall in with entirely the wrong people, somehow. It was like he was a light attracting them like mayflies.

"Procedure says I report it to McCoy, and that's only because I got 'em to stop reporting them to SHIELD. But I'll keep an eye out..."

He trailed off. Suddenly the aches and pains, the sharp throbbing in his feet and the pressure where his prosthetics sat against the stumps of his arms was... gone. Lifted. Fucking Josh.

"You too." Fuck, he hoped his voice didn't sound as thick as it did in his head. He started to move, then stopped, looked him dead in the eye.

"Stay outta trouble, okay?"

[ncrosha]

He takes the card, flipping it to admire how adult it is now, before slipping it into his pocket and moving to retrieve his phone. Julian might answer texts, but he's not the kind of person to send one anymore. Once he'd been a menace, texting at 3AM when he couldn't sleep about anything and everything like his friends were his own personal google. Now everyone still thinks he's dead, and he'd do his best to keep it that way.

... but part of him worries.

Can't help but worry, really. He's hard-wired to worry. Now that his powers are back and stronger than ever, keeping his distance would be selfish. Yet proximity does breed danger.

"Listen," he pauses to retrieve the card, flipping open his phone to send a quick text. "I want to keep you out of all of this, but... Since you're an EMT, you might run into some leads here. If you encounter any cases of spontaneous new mutations way outside the usual age range, or the sudden disappearance existing mutations in the usual age range, remove yourself from the situation and let me know."

A beat. He looks down at his phone, keeps his eyes trained there as he taps a message to Magneto letting him know he was calling it. His gaze stays there as he speaks, doing his best to keep his voice light.

"... And I know how you meant it. It's cool, you're not wrong. S'why I took off and try not to stay anywhere for long... It's safer if I'm a stranger to everybody."

I wanted out too.

The least he can do is some light healing. It's not enough of an apology. For leaving, for dying, for - reminding. His hands stay firmly to himself, but the aches and pains of a long shift quietly disappear from the other mutant's body.

"... I should go. It was good to see you, Jules. Sorry. Stay safe."

The answer comes almost too fast, which sends Julian's alarm bells going off. He's heard talk like this since he was a teenager, from too many friends lost down bad roads. People he respected, people he trusted. Part of him wants to press Josh, get out of him what the heck he was doing in this neck of the woods, but he held himself back. For starters they were still in the middle of the street, and starting to draw eyes; though Julian being a mutant in town was known, there weren't many, and having Josh out here catching the sun like a fucking oversized Oscar statue was definitely a good distance from low profile.

There was the touch of a smile on Josh's face, though, and he couldn't help feeling a painful nostalgia; he remembered the easy smiles, the laughing about nothing at all back at the Institute, when they were stupid kids who thought they had the whole world at their feet. Back then when the smile had gone it had scared Julian...

now it just made him sad.

"Hey -- I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." His head hung a bit, heel scuffing. "It's just..." He snorted suddenly, pushing off the bench. "I've been on my feet for 24 hours straight. My plans for tonight involved eating this --" he held up the bag, whose bottom is now thoroughly soaked in grease-- "and then passing out watching something mindless on Netflix. You just kinda threw me for a loop."

He fished in his jacket pocket, came back with a wrinkled card. "Here -- had these made up a while back when I was lookin' for work." Julian Keller -- Graduate with Honors, Jean Grey School for Higher Learning, plus his phone number and a professional-looking email address. He held it out between two fingers. "My schedule's all over the place, but I do answer texts." A pause, blue eyes steady as he caught Josh's gaze -- it used to unnerve him, but now it just felt normal. "You look good. Don't be a stranger."

[ncrosha]

"No," Josh replies automatically, something cold slipping in to the words. "Not our kind of people."

Except Miss Frost was once. And maybe she still is, but the whole plan is wildly misguided.

Anything else he may have had to say on the matter dies on his lips. Of all of their class, he'd assumed that Hellion would be the one to stubbornly stay until the end. Maybe once he was a budding villain full of too much power and pride to stay on the straight and narrow, but Josh had snatched the most likely to go Magneto superlative a long time back. There's the slightest smile on his lips, a strange swell of pride that Julian's found and forged a life here.

But the warning is out before he can find the words to say it.

It surprises him how much it hurts. Cutting straight through whatever warmth was bubbling out of the comfortable numb. His eyes widen a fraction, brows knitting together and it feels like a long-held fear confirmed.

( you really do bring nothing but death and destruction with you, don't you josh? remember vermont? )

"... of course, man. I didn't mean to... I mean. It's cool, I'm glad you found your place. I wouldn't want anything to mess that up." Maybe there's that spark of burning jealousy rekindled, that Julian can just exit the life in a way he was never able to. It's impossible to tell from the smile he offers, quiet and sad and altogether unlike the boy from Queens who'd been ready to fistfight him for nothing but the heck of it.

"Forget I said anything. I was on the phone with my ride when you walked up... think they moved on a while ago and my lead's just bad. I'm glad you're doing good, man. You deserve it."

There's a look he's gotten very used to, in his line of work; people look at his hands, and then pointedly don't look, though it's always right there in their eyes. Their thoughts hang in the air like the scent of rain, obvious even to someone lacking even his rudimentary psychic abilities. It was part of why he's recently switched back to connected prosthetics, though these are highly advanced and they can detach at the wrist if he wants to.

He's getting that look from Josh, right now. Julian isn't sure why that pains him.

Listening, he moved to lean against a bench, just to take the strain off his aching feet. "What, our kinda people?" he asked, and made a little 'cross-my-heart' motion in the middle of his chest with one finger. The old uniform always had that damn X right there. Like a target. He scoffed, rolled his eyes. "I dunno. White Plains has its problems, but I don't know of anybody who'd set up shop out here. Too boring."

He paused, mouth worked a little in thought. "Three years. Nearly blew myself up along with half of a city because I was sick... When I got better, I decide to help the people who helped me. Kinda caught the 'helping' bug." He nodded back toward the firehouse. "Been at this gig about two years, six months as an EMT, volunteer fire before that. Something that doesn't require spandex and a psychic link. I was just heading home, been up since--" he consulted his watch, which was on a carabiner on his belt loop. "Eight AM on Tuesday." It was now three PM on Thursday.

He trailed off again, shifting to cross his ankles, tilt his head to one side to study Josh's face. "Listen, I can keep an ear open for you, if it's something important, but... please don't drag trouble into this town, okay? I came here to get away from all that."

[ncrosha]

josh orders pancakes and a black coffee, leaning back in his seat to thumb through his phone. no emergency texts so all must be clear for now.

it's... good. he'd rather hoped to open up his phone and find that they'd identified the base and were planning a siege, but it looks like this would be the slowest of slow burns.

"i don't have any work until next month, so i should be good for whenever you need me."

"yeah, i know, i'm just saying - i'll need to cut out every now and then to make sure that people don't come looking for me. and don't worry, i don't gotta eat."

that doesn't mean he doesn't like to, of course, but if julian's on a budget then there's no need to waste food on a nuclear reactor of power like himself.

he picks a booth, tucked away in the back, pulling his card out of his pocket and setting it on the table.

"order whatever you wat, s'on me."

[ncrosha]

"yeah, i know, i'm just saying - i'll need to cut out every now and then to make sure that people don't come looking for me. and don't worry, i don't gotta eat."

that doesn't mean he doesn't like to, of course, but if julian's on a budget then there's no need to waste food on a nuclear reactor of power like himself.

he picks a booth, tucked away in the back, pulling his card out of his pocket and setting it on the table.

"order whatever you wat, s'on me."

"if i can hide from cerebro, i can hide from magneto." he waves a hand dismissively. "they know better than to get involved in my business anyway."

it's a little jarring. knowing his full power and wielding it with confidence. he's still learning, still delving into the depths, but the shift in attitude is all it takes for everyone to give a wide berth.

it's liberating.

it's terrifying.

it's isolating.

"as long as i can go home when you're home, we're good."

[ncrosha]

He'd known that Julian had lost his hands. After he left, abandoning his friends to his fate as he, ever the coward, could not stand watching them die knowing he'd once had the power to save them. In the ruins of Utopia Xi'an had told him exactly what had gone down during Hope's return.

But it's one thing to know. Another to guiltily avoid looking at the evidence. His gaze reluctantly shifting back to Julian's face, to the myriad of emotions playing across it that spark a different kind of guilt.

How is it fair that he walks around unmarked by all his trauma, his scars no less sever but significantly less visible, but his friends will carry theirs for life?

The responsible thing to do would be to leave. To not involve him in this fucked up life any further. And he can't live with another corpse on his conscience.

"I, uh..." He rubs the back of his neck, gaze shifting upwards. "Work, I guess? Some people I'm looking for might have set up in town and I wanna have a word."

There. Not a lie. But, more importantly...

"... How... How long have you been out?"

"No tricks, man."

Does it make him a bad person to feel relief at that palpable shock and grief on the other man's face? The thought is fleeting, selfish and guilty but there none the less. Proof that someone cared when the last few years had been so bereft of it.

Sliding his hood down with one hand as the other stows his phone in his pocket, he turns to face Julian fully. There's a knit-cap on his head, taming his flyaway silver bedhead by force. His eyes are an chilling, corpse-like white - unable to hold the other's gaze but knowing looking away would be cowardly.

"C'mon, it's not like it's the first time a mutant's come back from the dead," he says, aiming for levity but missing by a mile. "I dunno whose idea it was to bury the omega level biokinetic, but I hope they got fired for that blunder. I wouldn't mind a mausoleum next time."

The joke falls flat. He means for it to be funny, to take the tension out of this interaction the same way he did everything else back in the day - but it's undercut by the barest hint of resentment. The directionless kind where there's no one to blame, just damage one has to shoulder.

He should bail. Tap the emergency app on his phone that'll send an S.O.S. to Exodus to come get him, but even the idea of that makes him feel sick to his stomach. Julian deserves a - a conversation, at least.

"... I mean - what I mean is, yeah. I did die. But basically that's just a more extreme version of those comas I used to have in highschool. Messed up, right?"

[ncrosha]

"No tricks, man."

Does it make him a bad person to feel relief at that palpable shock and grief on the other man's face? The thought is fleeting, selfish and guilty but there none the less. Proof that someone cared when the last few years had been so bereft of it.

Sliding his hood down with one hand as the other stows his phone in his pocket, he turns to face Julian fully. There's a knit-cap on his head, taming his flyaway silver bedhead by force. His eyes are an chilling, corpse-like white - unable to hold the other's gaze but knowing looking away would be cowardly.

"C'mon, it's not like it's the first time a mutant's come back from the dead," he says, aiming for levity but missing by a mile. "I dunno whose idea it was to bury the omega level biokinetic, but I hope they got fired for that blunder. I wouldn't mind a mausoleum next time."

The joke falls flat. He means for it to be funny, to take the tension out of this interaction the same way he did everything else back in the day - but it's undercut by the barest hint of resentment. The directionless kind where there's no one to blame, just damage one has to shoulder.

He should bail. Tap the emergency app on his phone that'll send an S.O.S. to Exodus to come get him, but even the idea of that makes him feel sick to his stomach. Julian deserves a - a conversation, at least.

"... I mean - what I mean is, yeah. I did die. But basically that's just a more extreme version of those comas I used to have in highschool. Messed up, right?"

The shape of the frame is a little different -- but then, six years is a long time, a lot can change, especially in the body of an adolescent. Taller, broader, stronger, yet so clearly recognizable he was violently thrust mentally back in time, so that he had to reach out, the acrylic of his prosthetic clacking heavily against the light-post that managed to keep him from tumbling to the ground.

It was like looking at a ghost. A gleaming golden ghost, come to haunt him for all the sins he'd committed for the sake of the mutant cause. Some absurd part of him laughed, taunting him, if he's your Marley, who's gonna be your Christmas Past? but he gave his head a firm shake to throw off that musing.

He pushed off the pole, taking a long stride in the direction Josh was standing. "Foley -- You... you cannot be here -- we..." We buried you.

Coming up just short, the shock had turned, twisting, blue eyes flashing faintly green, jawline hardening.

"If this is a trick it's a damn stupid one. So what is it? Shapeshifter? Mental projection?" His voice was an irritable snarl. "Spill."