Defining Factors

Chapter 9: The Raid

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Warnings: jackassery

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"Why are you being so stubborn? They just want to register you. Everyone who joins goes through the process. I went through the process. It's not even bad. A few questions, what your powers are. A shot or two. And done. That's it."

Fuck the process. I'm not joining your guys' little enterprise. I'm making a trade so everyone will leave me the fuck alone. I'm not going through that registration bullshit.

Kinloch sighed. There was just no convincing James. His mind was set. "Why are you such a jerk to everyone?"

In what way am I a jerk? I literally say nothing to anyone.

"You don't have to. You keep brushing everyone off. Fun, you disappear. How are you supposed to be become part of the group of you never spend any time with them?"

I'm not part of the group. Simple as that.

"Yes, you are. Quit being so dramatic."

If you trust everyone so much, why doesn't anyone know you can read minds?

"I-" Damn, James had Kinloch on that one.

Yeah. That's what I thought. Come on. We're going to be late to the gathering. I hope you're ready to storm and possibly die at the Necromancer's hands.

"Like I said. Dramatic," Kinloch said, as James started walking off for the courtyard where everyone was gathered in various outfits and armors and shit. Kinloch found their group quickly, noting how none of them bothered with armor or weapons, completely relying on their own strength. Every person watched as Kinloch and James strode into the room, their eyes following him. Why was his presence such a big deal anyway? He was just a teleporter that managed to avoid capture for years right up until the point he randomly showed up on their war table and offered his services. That's a completely normal thing to do.

Fredericks' hand clamped down onto James' shoulder. "Ready?" James gave him a curt nod. "Good. You'll take Washington's and Burr's team first. Lafayette, however, will be transported last to translate anything you have to report when you teleport back. Sound good?" James nodded. "Don't get yourself killed. That's the last thing we need. And stay close to Francis and your squad. They will protect you. Go when ready."

James stepped away from Fredericks and faced the group of Eight. Francis, John, Alex, Burr, Thomas, Washington, Lee, and Tallmadge all placed their hands on his shoulders and James teleported them all, dropping them into a grand reception room of the Necromancer's house. James looked around, bored, before teleporting back for the next groups. One of which was the Schuylers. Three minutes later, James stood inside the Necromancer's home along with about one hundred other people, having teleported Lafayette and Fredericks last. Burr's group instantly moved protectively around James. It was their job after all. "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?" Kinloch asked.

There's no one here.

Kinloch turned to look at James, how would he know that? Of course, two seconds later, the scouts poured back out of the hallways. "There's no one here. Not even a rotting corpse."

"Goddamnit!" Hamilton fumed. "We can't have let him slip again! No! We had him! How did he know we were coming? Where did he go?"

The store? Evil necros have got to eat too.

Francks snorted, suppressing a laugh.

"Alex, shut up and think," Burr reprimanded.

Washington nodded to Fredericks and directed his attention to Tallmadge. "It's possible we have a traitor. Someone who is feeding information to the Necromancer of all our movements in order to works against us."