The trembling ground in camp was no real surprise to John as he stood at the sink of the bathroom, face covered in shaving foam as he dragged the blade carefully across his cheek. It was generally accepted that the Mexican was a pain in the ass and could usually be found to be the source of these rumbles, often as a result of some practical joke or
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Bypassing the blocked signal using his powers, he called John's phone. "Please pick up. Please pick up," Chris thought desperately. As soon as it went through, he yelled into the phone, "John, get me out of here!" He ducked as another chunk of the wall narrowly avoided him.
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Suddenly appearing in the bedroom, John ducks avoiding a rather large piece of ceiling plaster as it his the floor. He grabs hold of Bradley and teleports not bothering to do the usual speil. They reappear a moment later outside, caked in dust and debris. "Nothin' like an early mornin' wake up call huh? You alright there?"
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He was too freaked out to even feel the normal nausea he did after a teleportation trip. Chris rubbed his shoulder where a large piece of concrete had landed hard. "Just fine and dandy. What the hell happened?"
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"No-one seems to have a clue though what is going on and all I know is that a few of them were taken off camp this morning including Rictor so who knows!"
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He looked around, panic still tight in his chest. It appeared some of the squad had gotten out just fine, but there was still many missing. With the way those buildings were collapsing like dominoes, Chris wondered if everyone would make it out of this mess alive.
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He didn't like the siutation any more than Bradley, nor was he holding a special place in his heart for the kid that had caused this or at least hadn't tried to put a stop to it. John coughed, raising his hand to his head for his hat and then realising it wasn't there. Dammit. "I think we better start seeing if people need a helpin' hand don't you?"
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