[centre][b][h2][color=f7976a]Michelle Diggby, 27[/color][/h2]
Pathokinetic / Washington DC[/b][/centre]


No.

Michelle stood petrified in the door frame. It was the stuff of nightmares. A garuanteed method of identifying Supers? It simply couldn't be true. The colour drained from her face. It was over before the battle had even begun. They'd already be rounding up Supers who'd had a blood test recently. [i]Had I had a blood test recently? How recent would it have to be? What was the expiry date on blood? Was it already over for me?[/i] Her legs were shaking, she propped an arm on the door for support. Her housemates offered their concern by Michelle wasn't paying any attention any more, all she could hear was her heart thumping in her chest. Help. Michelle needed help, she needed answers and she needed to be back in the loop. It was time to make the call. 

Michelle slunk back out into the rain and cold, the wind whipping at her as she struggled with buttons on her coat. She walked, she didn't even pick a direction, hoping she'd find a telephone box. It was tough walking on such weak legs, but the act of putting them one in front of the other made her feel atleast she was doing something. It wasn't long till she was rewarded, she hastily darted inside and picked up the receiver. Desperately ready to push change into slot, Michelle had a thought. [i]Was she far enough from home that if the number was compromised and the number traced, would she'd be safe? [/i] Michelle hung up the receiver. She was being paranoid, she knew it, but it was impulses like these that kept her safe before, so it was best not to ignore them until she knew what was going on. 

It would be an hour before Michelle found the next phone booth and it wouldn't offer as much privacy either, but she'd have to take the risk, she couldn't wait any longer. She slammed about four dollars in loose change in the machine, dialing the only number she'd ever need to remember.

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