Synthetic Beauty (re-posted)

Chapter Twenty-Five: To Rescue or To Be Rescued?

The crystal waters swallow the ship as Kevin and Kyle descend into the water. Neither look each other in the eye as coral reefs pass by the windows.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Kyle crosses his arms.

Kevin rolls his eyes wondering if Kyle even has a standard of should or shouldn't. Kyle's actions are usually based on just doing something, "President Bridges may be unhappy, but it is worth saving Phoebe."

"She must be really important to make you give up your president's pet act."

Kevin stares at the large dome ahead of them as they approach it swiftly, "We used to be the best of friends and then I screwed it all up."

"That's not news. You screw a lot of shit up," Kyle smirks cockily. His smile fades when he notices Kevin's cold shoulder, "What exactly did you do?"

Kevin turns around quickly and forcefully pushes Kyle against the wall, "That's not for you to know."

Kevin lets go and returns to his controls as they swiftly land inside one of the dome's pockets, "Listen, I don't like hanging around you as much as you do, so let's save Phoebe and be on our merry ways."

"Okay, Cupcake," Kyle gives Kevin a mocking wink. Kevin's blood boils at his brother's idiotic comment.

That's right. Brother. Kevin hasn't told Phoebe or anyone else because he's ashamed. Kyle is an imbecile. He is a shame to me and to our late parents. Being a twin of someone like Kyle can be a very big pain. The only reason he's in the rebellion is because of Kevin.

Kevin opens up the door and steps out, already on nerve, "This is a trap."

"No dur Sherlock," Kyle walks next to Kevin and rests his arm on his shoulder.

Immediately Keving throws him off, "Shut up, idiot. We have to be careful." Kevin walks over to a vent, pulling off the bolts silently, he pulls off the door and begins to army crawl in the vent.

Kyle calls on the earpiece, "Are- sh-od idea?"

"What?" Kevin replies.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, dude?" Kyle seems to be hesitant at following.

Kevin pauses in the vent, "Hold on, Kyle..." Kevin presses his ear to the vent wall, brushing away dust first, "I don't hear anything."

"Why does that matter-"

"Shut up. I think they evacuated the premises of all the Pretties. I think they really prepared to fight us," Kevin looks ahead with his night vision eyes.

Kyle takes a minute to respond, "So? We fight them."

"No-no I think the Pretties already know our powers and probably adapted. The leaders are the ones who aren't stupid. Don't forget that. It's their pawns-the regular Pretties- that are idiots," Kevin shakes his head.

Kyle begins to climb in-Kevin could tell by the creaking of the vent, "Yeah, but they're still weak. We have the advanced technology from-"

"That's not the point. You don't need to be rich to put out a fire," Kevin says.

"You don't need to be rich to start a fire, but adding gas makes it harder for the other to put it out," Kyle remarks.

Kevin continues on, taking a right in the break, "Stop arguing in metaphors. We still need to be careful. I didn't become Captain because I was rash. By the way, the first turn you have to make is a right."

" 'Kay, Cupcake. Just wondering, you know where we're going?" Kyle's voice asks through the earpiece.

Kevin looks down at his watch showing a map of the oxygen system, "Yeah, we're going to the oxygen core and killing it. The only thing that could possibly survive in this place is Phoebe. So we'll save Phoebe and drown their biggest city. Two birds with one stone."

"For once it sounds like a good plan. Are you sure Phoebe will survive?" Kyle asks.

Kevin sighs exasperated, "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Stupid question," Kyle sighs.

"Okay, from here it's a straight shot. Just keep going and keep your voice down," Kevin whispers as he walks past a vent.

As he army crawls down into a large opening, Kevin stands up, watching the pumps in the center. They are on of course. Suddenly, a gun shoots and an electric cuff surrounds Kevin's wrists. He stares at a guy with ghost white hair, red eyes and a smirk on his face, the smirk more intimidating than the large guns he holds.