[center][color=FireBrick][h1]Oshea Jackson[/h1][/color][/center]
[center][img]https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRjtfO2BcJ4mxrdczwdEbebi4Gzn4cKHY2FO1grfvoVWaMg9LSa63bMfE9A[/img][/center]
[center]"People say I haven't 'grown up'--I don't think they ever stayed kids long enough to know what 'grown up' means."[/center]
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[center]Location: Hanson Power Plant[/center]
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Now, how exactly was he supposed to [i]not[/i] be seen? The Brotherhood probably had eyes everywhere, although Oshea was sure Ayita was somewhere close by now as well. He hoped she hadn't been discovered, part of him wanted to see one of her more visceral animorphic forms in action. [i]Bet Sabertooth couldn't fight off a big ass grizzly bear.[/i] Or maybe he could--that wouldn't be ideal at all. As he headed toward the facility, there didn't seem to be anything conducive to stealth nearby (not that Oshea was versed in stealth tactics.) Maybe he should consider asking one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents if they'd help him; they both were kind of cute, anyway.

It seemed like everyone else was pretty spread out. From what he could gather, Allison and Marygold were headed toward the back; he knew Starkette, Cassandra, and Beast were somewhere near the side-entrance, but he wasn't quite sure he had the might to best Sabertooth. Yeah, he would definitely let Beast handle that one. That left him alone. Alone? He put a hand up to his visor before he turned around to survey the exterior of the plant; what he saw only confirmed his fears. He had to do this one himself! Well... well, so be it. That crushing jolt of anxiety swelled up in him, yet only as a flash. He couldn't turn back--and he wanted that more than anything else in the world.

A flip and a click, his visor locked in place. His arms lifted from his sides, but just as he began to break from his sprinter's stance, his mind unrooted those buried thoughts,

[i]Not gonna make it.
Gonna die!
No, gonna live!
Gonna diiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee![/i]

Brevity was the single word that described Oshea best, not impulsive, not immature (though he certainly was). In a sense, it was hard for him to feel certain things with the same clarity and depth other humans and mutants did [i]because[/i] he was cursed with a lack of focus. Brevity also gave him a realistic--albeit grim--view of life. He appreciated life, though he knew it was fragile and could end any moment. This brevity also made him brave; he rushed head-forth into danger that he may protect others, even if it meant his own would be taken. It's how he survived the streets of west Baltimore, it's why he was an X-Men. And it was time to prove it.

He burst forth, Beast's words dominating his train of thought; he typically flit from one shallow idea to another, but he respected and held on to every word Beast said. And now, more than ever, he kept those words in his mind.

[color=blue]"For it is not how fast you are in a fight . . but how you use your brain to make up for the difference. Speed isn't everything."[/color] Beast was right. Even Oshea knew when he was in over his head. For once, it was time to stop running and start using his brain. He hadn't picked up much speed, as he wasn't trying to blitz the entrance; instead, he pressed his back against the wall and raised his comm-link to his mouth.

[color=FireBrick]"Boss, I got good eyes on the front. Nothin' shakin', though. Seems to me like the Roger Waters lookin' ass nigga and his ugly ass sister slid off. Waitin' on your move, queen. Rook out."[/color] Speaking of chess, Oshea figured he would try that new formation he just thought about right this second on Beast next time they played.