She had remained a rather quiet observer as the group she was with went into full-fledged hunt mode. The mad scramble to get to Logan International before the flight left the gate as well as to be prepared for almost anything on such a short notice.

She was neither a participant in the flurry of activity nor did she really feel like she was completely free to leave on her own accord though she had been assured she could.

The way Flat kept his gaze nearly always on her and the obvious conversation and planning that was taking place on privatized channels and text messages left her more than a little on edge.

Once they had arrived at the airport and the team had emptied out of the transport and headed off on their respective portions of the "mission" she was once again left alone with Flat and their staring contest.

Stubbornly she refused to be the one to blink first.

She kept her gaze locked on the man's impassive face and wondered just what had occurred in his life to get him to this very point. She couldn't help it. She was curious. If she couldn't remember her past, she wanted to know everything about everyone else's.

"So why do you do it?" She asked softly and out of the blue to cut the silence that was killing her.

Flat blinked a couple of times in response to the unexpected query - and each time he did a rainbow of strobing lights flashed through and around his shades.

He answered in his usual monotone: "Gotta eat...And if once in a while I can do some good for someone, I feel a little less like the whole thing is a total waste of time."

Then he shrugged. "Maybe today's that once in a while."

"Honesty mixed with altruistic lip service. Interesting, but not a surprising answer."

Her eyes flickered for an instant and Flat would swear he saw a hint of a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. She could have left it there, the slight jab out in the open, but instead she continued.

"How do you decide who deserves to have good done for them?"

She turned more thoughtful for a moment, processing her own questions and answers inside her muddy mind.

"And how are you all so certain that I'm someone who deserves your charity? That I'm not still connected to the ones your friends are chasing inside the airport? That I'm not here to hurt all of you?"

Flat almost always left his meat eyes closed when astrally perceiving. Now, however, he felt the stoboscopic flashes of the elaborate tats on his eyelids would be a distraction, so he left them open.

But he was nonetheless viewing Jun on the spiritual plane - wary of tricks by their foe, but not looking too deeply...he'd suffered a lot of pain and little to show for it when trying that. He was still determined to do further reads, but it would be in more controlled circumstances than alone in the back of the Landy.

He listened impassively to her string of questions, trying to imagine her first as the Sun, and then as a huge snake.

"Actually, I do believe you are a terrible danger to us. And I also am sure you are, indeed, still connected to those we seek."

He might have been talking in his sleep, for all the emotion in his voice.

Flat

And then without warning his stony face was colored by a tight grimace of pain. But he muttered something under his breath and it passed. All the while he never took his eyes off the woman wearing his clothes.

Airports made JW nervous. Ma Reynolds had taught him his whole life not to trust centralized corporate and government power, and this was the epitome of it. An army of drones and shock troops waited inside for him to slip up. He felt exposed without shotgun, pistol and armor. He felt further exposed because the coveralls and wife beater he wore underneath the camoflauged combat gear hadn't been selected for consumption by the public eye.

As exposed as he was, he still felt comfortable with his options for fighting his targets or security. Tactical training, a digital arsenal and an active pair of fists were sufficient defense a lot of the time. He briefly considered pursuing their targets alone, but decided that the team's plan was, if more unsure, certainly much safer.

He took a seat outside of the security line at the terminal and idly punched at the low-grade commlink he used as his public face while trying to look like an up-jumped hick waiting for his family at the big city. The commlink lodged in his skull was much busier gathering data about the local matrix topography and security.

After a few minutes of searching JW had decided on a bottom up hack; the lowest tier of the security system, the actual alarm nodes, was the least patrolled and least secured. He took a deep breath and struck like a digital cobra -- three seconds of hacking later he had a finger on every alarm in the airport.

<<JW@Team:: I have the alarms, let me know when to use them.>>

He settled in to wait and kept his eyes peeled for the demon women he'd seen destroy the KE officers.

Toobit followed JW into the airport, making sure to keep a good distance away from the hacker. Even though he left all of his gear behind because of security reasons he still felt safe with the knowledge that he could call upon his power at a moments notice.

The dwarf settles into a seat a few rows away from his teammate and pulls out his commlink to present the look of someone killing time. Occasionally he looks up at the arrivals board as any observers would expect someone waiting for a plane to do.

For an instant after Flat's words registered with her, a look of sadness much like a kicked puppy, crossed her features and was then replaced with a stone cold visage as her eyes moved away from Flat and stared straight ahead of her.

Her mood soured noticeably, most evident in her aura that Flat was keeping close tabs on, and she sat in silence for a bit as she brooded while the rest of the team continued inside the airport to find the group who might hold a real key to her identity.

Darkhorse signals back to JW.

Wing and I are moving into place for a a little bundling, we'll only get two so we're after the hostages. We'll try to make it quick and sneaky but our options aren't great here. Don't worry should be fun. We'll give you a call when we need that alarm.

That went well, the goateed investigator thought ruefully. Oh, well, victim counseling had never exactly been his thing.

In his heart he was convinced this woman was a good person, a pawn in some ugly game whose players he could only guess at. He very much wanted to see that she came out of this thing with a happy ending.

But things were complicated. His law enforcement training had made clear to him over and over that however sure you were that you'd do what had to be done, that didn't matter if the perp didn't think you were really willing to pull that trigger. And if he didn't believe you, he'd try something that could get him dead and you hurt. So you did whatever it took - act scared, act panicked, act crazy, or maybe even just articulate to him that you considered him a threat - whatever it took to convince him not to endanger both your lives by being stupid.

So whether he was talking to her or whatever metaplanar puppetmaster was lurking at the edge of someone's consciousness (hers? his? it was scary either way), he figured it was best to let someone know that, much as they might not want to, he and his teammates would do whatever had to be done if anyone got stupid.

The last thing he wanted was for the perception of compassion to be fatally mistaken for a suicidal level of mercy.