>>5308106With another cry of, “Catch!,” the tennis ball is in midair once more, and you watch as another kid takes a turn at catching the ball–this time one with a raccoon mutation. She barely misses the couch, the ball bouncing off of her fingers and onto the ground below, but she plucks it up from the ground as if it were some lost treasure, disappearing with it into the throng of former captives just as quickly.
“Got another one.” Matt calls, pulling another tennis ball out of nowhere. <span class="mu-i">Which reminds you…</span>
“What are we going to do with all these kids?” You find yourself voicing your thoughts aloud.
“Weren’t we just gonna keep em’ at the warehouse for the night?” Bernard tilts his head. For that, you really don’t have a choice.
“I meant afterwards.” You clarify, because it’s a dangerous idea to keep your base-of-operations filled with mutants on a long-term basis– both for yourselves and for the other mutants.
“Ah.” Bernard’s face fills with realization. “I just kinda thought we’d figure that one out once we got em’ situated.” He looks kind of sheepish at the admission before he turns to Matt. “Stick, you got any ideas?”
“Well,” He starts, throwing the ball back to the other end of the room. “Our main goal was to get them back home. Their homes.” Matt corrects himself, stepping closer to the two of you before lowering his voice. “We can’t really do that tonight or in a single day for that matter, so we might be finding ourselves housing some of these guys longer than we expected.”
“Define long.” You return, just as quietly. From off to the side, you watch as Bernard continues the game of catch, making a show of catching the ball with a series of flashy teleports.
“A couple of days, maybe a week…” Matt shrugs. “It all really depends on how fast we can get them back home.”
“But I mean <span class="mu-i">where,”</span> You put extra emphasis on the ‘where’ so that he’s on the same page as you. “Where are we going to put them?”
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