“Never on ungifted people. Not the fire, anyway. It’s simple enough to be … keeping an ear on my surroundings, and most ordinary thugs are not going to bother with someone who even looks like they will fight back.” This sigh is long, and weary, and she looks at her open hands like maybe they betrayed her. “I’ve killed with it, in self-defence. A few weeks ago, some folk kidnapped me. They’re called the Midnighters. It’s a quiet group, but they take people who have magic, or gifts related to magic, so that they can steal those powers. I … some friends broke me out, after the Midnighters drugged me nearly insensible.”
“Midnighters..?” He furrows his brows. “I haven’t heard of this group before. It sounds— dangerous for our kind.” He needs to keep them in mind, perhaps they knew of him. “How did they find you? Do they keep a list of— people who possess abilities they consider magic?” He doesn’t want to risk his, or his friends safety. If people like the Midnighters were out to hunt people like them he needs to be more careful than before. He already had the CIA after him but now.. He had been worried of organizations like these, mostly of antimutant organizations but this was something completely different. “Do you know what drugs they used? Did they get a chance to actually try stealing your powers?”
“If they had a list, it’s gone now. We didn’t leave much behind.” Summer folds her arms behind her back and starts to pace in small circles. “I’m pretty sure they found me because I don’t keep a low profile, and I was heavily involved in cleaning up after that Manhattan incident. With the aliens.” Her face is bleak and her voice goes sort of toneless as she talks through the memory.
“I had a meeting that day with som—with my sister. I think she wanted to warn me about them, but they got to me first. Broke into my apartment while my roommate was gone, drugged me. I don’t know what it was, but it was an injection, and it took effect very fast. I remember it made me feel like all my senses were wrapped in cotton. I couldn’t feel. Not my own emotions, not anyone else’s.
“They forgot, or didn’t know how soon they had to redose me, and I was able to get a cry out very briefly. My friends tracked me down that night. They didn’t have me very long.”