Claude walked silently behind the group, his thoughts isolated from the situation at hand. His eyes stared blankly forward. Not looking at what was there but instead seeing things that had happened way before this disaster.

Xavier led the group and when the prisoner seemed to slow down, he called him back to order. His own actions also made him thoughtful. He was the carefree guy, he didn't take things seriously, dodged his responsibilities.

Yet now, he was taking control of situations, he tried to hold the group together despite their differences. Why couldn't he stop thinking about him? His father...


The Lego structure he had built almost reached the roof of the rich living room, creating a Babel-like tower. It had taken him two days to get this far of non-stop work with very little rest and he was damn proud of himself.

His father wasn't there so his nanny let him do what he wanted for once. He was on a trip to someplace to talk about boring contract and stuff. His mother, at the time pregnant with him, had fallen for a man that she had met in a bar. She didn't even know who he was at first.

It was only after a month of dating he admitted to her that he was in fact rich. Jeremiah Sellers owned one of the greatest production studio of the united states. But he had wanted for his lover to want him not for his money so he had pretended to be a common man.

When Claude Sellers was born, the man still adopted him as his son. But the pregnancy had been filled with complications and the child's mother never recovered and a year later she fell ill.

He didn't remember his mother at all, all he could see where her pictures, she looked so nice and happy.

The front door of the mansion opened and Claude saw his worst nightmare come true... Jeremiah had come early from his trip and when he saw his son went sour.
"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Just... Playing..." The six years old replied meekly.

"You should be at the practice this time of day. Where's Johanna?"

"Dad! I don't want to play guitar! I want to construct things!" The kid defended himself.

"Claude Sellers! Do not talk to me on this tone!" His father raged.

"But--" The child began before being interrupted, slapped by his father.

He cried like a baby and ran for his room. Despite that, he could hear his father yelling at the nanny from downstairs.

He cried his soul out that night, he knew Johanna, the only friend he really had would be fired. He didn't sleep all night, merely laying numb on his bed. The TV had never been closed since he had opened it the previous day and come the morning, a melody stirred him from his stupor.

The sound of guitar filled the room, conveying his feelings like no word ever could. He rose his head and looked at the television. There, a man in a top hat played guitar from atop a piano...

He watched the scene with an almost mesmerized look. "Maybe guitar isn't so bad..." He muttered.

From that day on, he had a new objective, meeting that man who’s guitar spoke more than a thousand words…


Claude finally left his near trance like state as he heard the kid speak.


"What?" Leila asked, worryingly, holding the improvised weapon at the ready.
"The Compass' going nuts! We've got company."

The group spread out in a circle, so they would see every angle. They waited for it to come, weapons at the ready.

The End

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