((Collab Post between Letter Bee and Gentlemanvaultboy))

George Maxwell, after some days of thought, worry, and of course, politicking in order to ensure damage control from the fallout of the mass abduction, finally had some time to himself. And that time was spent reviewing the International Heroes' records in order to look for someone, anyone, who can contact him from space. Finally, he found him: Maxwell Sheppard; a Reformist Meta with the power to 'recieve' any thought directed at him, [i]with no distance limitations[/i]. Taking a moment to articulate himself, he thought, directing his thoughts to space:

<Sheppard, Sheppard, are you there? You may not know me, but we need you; Metahumanity and Humanity need you.>

He didn't know what happened. One minute he was in the water, trying to make sure no one got drowned on his watch, and the next thing he knew he was [i]in the water.[/i] He'd gone under in the the warm tropical sun and now he was somewhere dark, enclosed, and arctic. He kicked out with his legs in a panic, slamming them agaist the side of something hard enough to hurt. Then there was the matter of the tube down his throat and then there was the voice in his head that wasn't his, going off like damn alarm clock that ruined a good nights pleasant dreams. He banged around inside wherever he was a few more times before he felt something handle like and pulled. His day became worse before it became better as he spilled out of the container and slammed his head on the floor. He pulled the mask off his face and the breathing tube out of his throat to let out the resulting groan of pain.

It was like he'd woken up from the best dream ever into the worst hangover of his life. If anybody needed him right now they had to be desperate.

<Sheppard,> said George, <Are you there? Are you safe? Tell me, what is your situation?>

"Uhhh," he said out loud, pulling himself up the side of the tube he'd been sequestered in. "Okay, I guess. I've woken up feeling worse than this." Not often, though. Everything was sore. "Where are you?"

His voice echoed out into an empty room.

"Please tell me you're here, and that you havn't mistaken what I do for telepathy."

<Sheppard? I'm not hearing anything,> the man replied.

"Because I'm not a telepath!" he shouted to nobody, before quickly covering his mouth and looking around. What had been the last thing he remembered? What was the last thing before the beach? There was that guy at the back door that had made his head go all fuzzy, but Olivia had run him off and he'd just bolted. Right out of the building, not stopping for anything and then...

Oh shit. The earthshaking crash. Reformist HQ, squished under something that could have wiped out the dinosaurs. Did the undergrounders have him? He thought back to whoever was speaking. He thought hard. <Please tell me you're a telepath. Please at least tell me that.>

<Ah, I see, so apparently, you can only recieve thoughts, not transmit them. Which is why I'm not hearing anything. Okay, here's the situation. Alien Commandoes, huge numbers of them, have swooped in and abducted every Meta on Earth; Man, Woman, and Child, due to the fact that the virus causing the Metahuman condition is a bioweapon to them, a bioweapon made stronger by its incubation in Humans. You are now on what is possibly an Alien Ship, which in turn is in Hyperspace. Why do I know this? Well, let's just say I'm a Normal Person, and so didn't get abducted. I'm also George Maxwell, the US Secretary of State, and your country needs you.>

"Oh you have got to be kidding me." Max said, strolling around to look at the other containers. He tapped on ne of them, then went over and knocked his knuclkes agaist the wall a few times. "Come on out Ashton, I'm not in the mood for this shit right now. Seriously, abducted by aliens? That's seriously what you're going with?"

<I know this is hard to believe, but I'm not lying,> continued George. <I need you to free as many other Metas as possible, or make contact with any others that have escaped. Then, we can discuss plans for an insurgency.>

"Yeah, sure, already on that. Beep-bop-beep-bop-boop." He said, pushing in a passcode on a door with no data pad and turning the handle as another wave of liquid and another human fell onto the floor. He pulled the breathing tube out of her mouth, checked to make sure she was breathing, then left her to sleep it off. Despite his seemingly flippant attitude about the whole thing Max relized that they were probably in danger. This could be some sort of sociological test to see if metas could form an effective insurgency in a short amount of time. Or some weird game set up by the Underground using all the "race traitors" they captured in the aftermath of destroying Max's home and murdering  a lot of his freinds. Of course he was going to open all the cells. There was no other choice. Either he refused to play along and was promtly killed or he played along and hoped there would be a way out later.

Two cells were already open; on the remains of the glass, there were two etched notes in English:

[i]Yes, you're in Space - Love, Constantine.[/i]

[i]I took Consty with me for a Galactic Shopping Trip! - Love, Gia. To Elaborate, I have all these Deus ex Machina powers that can help you guys out, but since I spent most of my life imprisoned in a stasis pod - longer than Ruby has been captive in fact! - by first my brother, and now you guys, I don't plan on lifting even a pinky finger to aid the world that abandoned and forgot about me at all.[/i]

[i]Gia! - Constantine.[/i]

[i]Haven't I suffered enough?! I suffered more than Ruby. Flipping. Ruby. No, I will not try and help Humanity and Metahumanity anymore, and neither are you! - Gia.[/i]

"Well fuck you too." Max muttered.