CLEO.
With long, purposeful strides Wither strode down the hallway of the Xavier’s College dorms towards the front door. Now was the beginning of something much larger, something powerful, raw, and beautiful all at once. For the last week they’d plotted in secret, their skullduggery in the shadows and away from the watchful eyes of the network admins as they worked out the important targets. Critical systems, vital people. The number of the cadre wasn’t large, but it would be enough for their tasks to sow discord and strife among the defenders of the school, namely their teams and the technology that helped protect them. Those aspects that kept the school safe.
A glove of black synthetic leather pressed against the handle to the main doors, and with a click it opened. Another push sent it swinging open and allowed Asp — Cleo — entrance to a location she wouldn’t have regularly had access. He barely knew her. With a sweep of his uncovered forearm — oddly for Wither he’d chosen a t-shirt today — he ushered her into the building. “They’re both here as expected.” Analytical and calm without the barest hint of emotion that was beginning to roil beneath the man. Tugging against his heart was a worry that didn’t show on his outward expression.
His target—
Wither had already turned and was walking step in step with Asp back the way he’d come from, towards the dorm rooms themselves. A snap came audibly in the vacant hallway as he popped open the band on his gloves. He tugged them off, shoved them into his pockets, and then continued on the way without slowing despite the rising tide of fear.
Bare fingers pressed and then dug into the wall, withering through the materials and causing rivulets of ash to run down to the floor. Wither passed a door, and with quick work dug fingers around the doorknob to yank it out leaving it closed, the occupant if they were home trapped. All part of ensuring there was chaos, and sometimes ad-libs didn’t hurt either so long as they completed their goals.
701. Exo. 703. Wiccan. Wither knew the occupants by heart, had attended classes with them since their high school days, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. His palm pressed to the door of 703 and seemingly burned in a print of his touch. The other side was of more interest to both him and his cohort, and there — 706. The first target of the day at least for them, but certainly not the last. His own was a few doors down, and he hated it, wanted to scream and shout about it, to warn them off. But he didn’t, he stayed silent for a moment before he turned to Asp.
Wither gave a nod. “Ladies first.”
After all things were just beginning, all around the school destabilization was beginning, their precise tactics designed to throw as much into disarray as possible.