[hr][hr][center][h1][color=Purple]Waverley Watts - Feedback[/color][/h1][img]https://fathersonholygore.files.wordpress.com/2019/06/father-son-holy-gore-nos4a2-jahkara-smith-2.png?w=721&h=355[/img][hr]
[color=Purple][b]Location:[/b][/color] Mutant Underground, Washington D.C. Station (First Floor)
[color=Purple][b]Skills:[/b][/color][/center][hr][hr]
Waverley's head tilted slightly to the side, her eyes squinting into slits as she looked at the injured woman. Now on the couch, being worked on by the silver-haired woman, Waverley could recognize the injured woman as the one in charge. She turned her head to James, ready to ask him if he could go help with his ability, but before she could, Negasonic caught her attention. Her eyes first landed on the younger mutant's face, before falling down to look at the phone she held out in front of her. She watched the news story, her eyes widening as saw the destruction of the police cars. Caught be the camera was the lanky young man who had just rushed into the building. She could feel her heart begin to speed up, and a dull aching pain begin to eat away at her chest. 

Waverley took a few steps back, mumbling an apology as she bumped into one of the children. Her hand, with a light tremor coursing through it, reached down to her pocket, fishing out her cellphone. Her body was hunched over the screen as she frantically tapped it, before lifting it to her ear. The first ring seemed to cause the feelings in her chest to intensify. The dull pain was sharpened, feeling like electricity was slowly being pumped into her chest. Behind the pain, she felt like her heart was beating at her ribs, banging on them like prison bars, begging to be let out. As the second ring rang out in her ear, she could feel what felt like her lungs being blocked off from her mouth, left with only the air that they held at that moment. At the third ring, the phone in her hand, the phone in Negasonic's hand, and the radio, as well as any other piece of technology that was connected to the internet, data, or some other variation of radio waves, began to let out high pitched, screeching tones. The phone went to voicemail. 

[color=Purple]"Mom? I-"[/color] she struggled to mumble out, choking on the words, her voice shaking. She was finding it difficult to push words out with her drained lungs, and even if she could, she wasn't sure what she'd say. Her arm limply dropped, and she tucked it back into her pocket. Her eyes turned to Max, and took a step towards him, away from the kids. The room felt like it was slowly turning, and it caused Waverley's steps to turn into stumbles. [color=Purple]"What did she look like?"[/color] Waverley quietly asked, her voice forcing the words, the English language almost seeming foreign to her at that moment. [color=Purple]"The police woman. What did she look like?"[/color] her mind, an anxious muddled mess, seemed to be manufacturing things, sure that she'd heard that one of the police was a woman.