Just then, a slightly older, no older than 15, started yelling, talk about leader.
   The kids started popping latches, and I clung tight to the front bars. My crate was on the far end, in the semidarkness.
    An older boy, probably 14, yelled for everyone to get out, as angry chatting and footsteps raced to the left side of the room.
   A wolfish man approached the leader. A small winged 10-year-old shrunk behind her back. I do wanted to yell, to get the attention off of them, but I couldn't.
    Seconds later they were engaged in a firece battle. The wolf guy, fighting off the leader, slipped. He just slipped! Clunk! Slip!
    He regained his balance and then once again slipped. This time the leader jumped on him. He neck cracked.
   Seconds later the leader was flying out through a subway. Flying. An angry man stormed after her. "He was my son!" he bellowed, then "You killed your own brother!" which left me in total shock.
    Me and maybe 5 other mutants were left behind, they just hadn't had enough time. We were immediately gassed.