Pinebrook Motel, Maroon, Massachusetts | October 5th, 03:22

He sat at the small, cheap table in the corner of the musty motel room. The blinds were drawn shut out of prepared habit as they were at every location they stayed at, except for any of Indigo's bases. Codéza couldn't see how dark it was, even though his eyes were open - open, but no one was home at the moment. Glazed green gem eyes, like a doll's.

Dorrick thought it was creepy.

The technopath would do it from time to time. He called it Data Breaking, or something like that. Codéza would put his mind in that round silver machine of his, making logs and storing information, and his body would be vacant for hours. It wasn't any wonder that their Team Leader was the least-built guy on the team. Still, the Psion was the one in charge.

Dorrick wasn't a Psion, nor was he an animalistic Chimera like Tenfo; being the odd-man out left him either not-caring or weirded out by everything. But at times he couldn't help feeling like he was the only sane one.

Dorrick flopped back against the uncomfortable bed, frowning at the starchy comforter and almost cardboard pillows. He turned his blue eyes to the TV, which was shining with a rerun of some crime drama show. Tenfo sat cross-legged in front of the screen, his attention focused on the noisy box, he'd be distracted by the show until it ended and then he'd change the channel to search for another. Every Chimera came with a percentage of glitches, Tenfo's main one happened to be that that he was easily captivated by television - specifically crime dramas. Especially crime dramas.

"You shower yet, Tenny?" Dorrick asked the Chimera, not moving from his spot on the bed. Of course the younger male hadn't washed yet; he still reeked of that musky animal scent that built up on him between showers

Tenfo grumbled.

"You reek like road kill, man."

Another gravelly grumble.

Dorrick gave a resigned sigh, sitting up. "Do I gotta turn the TV off?"

Tenfo turned his head, rust-colored eyes daring Dorrick to try to take the TV away from him. It would have seemed like a four-year-old's expression, the defiant pout that Tenfo gave, if it weren't for his slitted pupils.

But Dorrick knew this game all too well, and Tenfo knew that he knew - so with a heave of his body the younger man rose off the floor and headed for the bath.

"Fine, Mom," Tenfo hissed under his breath.

"RDNA-XY-10-40, you don't speak to your mommy that," Dorrick jokingly called after him in a mock-mother's voice, using Tenfo's asset designation in place of a full name.

A moment of silence again came over the room, before Codéza muttered a joke: "I'll go on one of those trashy shows and prove that I'm not the father."

"You waking up?" Dorrick turned to the technopath.

The Psion let out a neutral hum, his form still.

The blue-eyed man flopped back again, taking the pause in interaction to slide his blade out from its sheath. Guns and bullets were the modern way, lasers and mindfucking if Psion were involved; but Dorrick was always the sort of guy who brought a sword to a shootout - and won.

Dorrick admired his scarred face in his sword's reflection. "Any word on the target?"

"I've found the place."

Dorrick slid his blade back, before looking to Codéza. "Work time?"

"Soon," Codéza yawned. His stiff body began to come to life again, his dull eyes regaining the glimmer of consciousness that all sentient things carried. "Set up perimeter, close in. Our birdy's found a nest with three others, four hostiles total. Two teenagers, older man, and the target."

"Three on four," Dorrick pursed his lips in thought. "What if the target slips out while we're neutralizing the others?"

"We're cleared to take a hostage."