[center][h3] [/h3][/center][h3][hr][color=#38547C]Keaton Plasse[/color][/h3][hr]
Amelia’s comments on Freaky-D placed her as one of his fans, though more on the admirer side than a die-hard fan. Just like Amelia, though, Keaton found herself confused by Lynn’s comments, unable to connect one thought to the next to understand Lynn’s flow of thought. Still, Lynn’s statement that the group weren’t friends was realistic, if not a bit mean-spirited. It marked her as a realist and as someone who wasn’t afraid to cut ties, which confused Keaton. Looking purely at her actions, Keaton had placed her as a more caring individual, so was this all a harsh front?

A scream cut Lynn’s next sentence off, causing her to bolt away for the sound. Keaton quickly followed, Amelia hanging back for some reason. At the scene, Lynn’s reaction pointed out where Keaton should look, and the second it took for her brain to register what she was seeing was a second it took to start answering questions. Man, broken ribs, collapsed lungs, probably squeezed by some extraordinary force. Broken legs but not arms, to prevent running but not begging. Fingernails and fingers removed, pliers and shears, or at least something with similar applications. 

Keaton stumbled back, her hand shooting up to clutch her mouth as the sour taste of vomit started, her stomach heaving. With her power’s relative autonomy came its tendency to turn itself on, and though she’d managed high school biology’s dissections alright, looking at the broken body now, the smell of rotting flesh indicating at least half a day of decay, she took another few steps back, fighting the tingling need to heave out her stomach contents.

Vaguely registering Amelia’s presence, Keaton inhaled and exhaled through her sleeve, trying to get air without the stench of death. As she calmed, she looked around for the others, who’d by now scattered to various corners of the park. Lynn was with the boy, who thankfully hadn’t transformed into a lizard. More control now? Uncertain, but there were the caring actions from Lynn again despite her statement that the group weren’t friends. Was it self-preservation, considering the boy’s lizard problem, or something more?

Whatever the case, Amelia’s scream cut through Keaton’s thoughts as her brain latched onto the girl’s babbling statements. She knew the man, knew him from Earth? The ship? Either way, she knew she had the possibility of being followed but hadn’t thought herself that big of a mark. She was wrong, or so she thought she was. Someone on the ship was torturing people to extract information, torturing people and dumping bodies without a care for whether they’d be found. 

A new bout of sickness washed over Keaton, this time due to dread. She’d approached these people thinking they’d be just another crowd, but now she’d just associated herself with a girl who might be a walking target. If the killer was anywhere as ruthless in her hunting as she was with her killing, Keaton was involved now, like it or not. She was now a target.