Gendou's Sagas, Volume II - 27January - Chapter Twenty-Eight

[Gendou]

DOSSIERS

Dossier ZRM2K11221BA

Name: Zendrake, Robin M.
DOB: 21 December 2001

Class: Beta
Ability: Alchemy

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown (dyed lavender)
Skin: Fair
Height: 5'8"
Build: Slight

Reside: Habitat Three

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Abilities:
Robin has the ability to alter certain chemicals at the molecular level by touching them and exerting her will. She also exhibits an extremely high level of expertise in a number of forms of chemistry, and can often discover the formula for a solution simply by touching it.
Some effort has been expended in attempting to develop this ability to field-grade, but this far, such efforts have proven fruitless, as she can neither make alterations at range or make alterations to living organic material.

Manifestation:
Robin's abilities were first discovered during a routine genetic checkup given to all on-base personnel and family members. Her mother, a member of Project Moebius, began immediately monitoring Robin for signs of manifestation.
When Robin was nine, she began to display a preternatural affinity for formulas and recipes. At the age of twelve, she manifested her ability by carbonating a small pitcher of water.

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Dossier SWA2K00408AA

Name: Sokol, Weston A.
DOB: 08 April 2000

Class: Alpha
Ability: Aero

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Light Brown
Skin: Fair
Height: 6'2"
Build: Medium

Reside: Beta Dorm, Male

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Abilities:
Weston has the ability to alter air on a molecular level. He can perform simple tasks, such as purifying tainted air, or complex tasks such as lifting large objects with a whirlwind or stripping electrons from air molecules and generating sufficient friction to create superheated plasma or even lightning. His effective range is roughly one kilometer in diameter, though his abilities weaken significantly outside of a twenty meter radius.

Manifestation:
Weston's abilities manifested relatively late, at the age of thirteen. While on a school trip, the bus he and his classmates were riding in slid on ice-slicked roads and went over a cliff. Weston managed to catch the bus in mid-air and keep it aloft for three miles before setting it down safely. Project Moebius was alerted through an anonymous call to one of our public hotlines, and he was taken into protective custody that same day.

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Dossier KGN2K00519AS

Name: Kurohisa, Gendou
DOB: 19 May 2000

Class: Alpha
Ability: Shadow

Eyes: N/A
Hair: N/A
Skin: N/A
Height: N/A
Build: N/A

Reside: Alpha Dorm, Isolation Suites

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Abilities:
Gendou's abilities are utterly unique among the 'control' Aberrant population. Rather than simply maintaining control of a given substance, he has actually become a living substance himself - living darkness. This gives him complete freedom of movement, allowing him to move through walls and floors, slipping into darkness here and appearing elsewhere almost instantly.

Due to the nature of his body, he is effectively immortal and invulnerable. He requires neither food, drink, sleep, oxygen or indeed anything (so far as has been determined) to support his biological functioning. Though he is extremely and painfully sensitive to light and flame, they do no lasting harm to him - though they may force him to lose cohesion temporarily.

His amorphous form also lends itself to shape-changing and mimicing, though in an somewhat limited manner. In a dim or even normally lit room, Gendou can look and feel completely solid. In sunlight or bright artificial lighting, however, he will appear translucent, and his solidity is much less stable. Currently, he is only able to mimic a human form for a few hours before exhaustion sets in. He can, however, create non-realistic shadow forms that will last indefinitely, or until disrupted by light or fire.

He is also capable of drawing objects of varying sizes into himself. There is a good deal of debate over what exactly happens to the objects when he does this, as cameras and other recording devices carried in this manner record nothing but black, empty silence. However, it has been shown that even spending a short while in this 'pocket void' is harmful to most biological organisms.

Overall, his abilities are among the most fascinating we have yet encountered. With sufficient training and therapy, he may even be able to leave the facility for short periods of time.

Manifestation:
Gendou's abilities manifested during his tenth birthday party, when the combination of bright light from a photo flash unit and the overhead sunlight caused his body to lose coherency and discorporate. Suspecting the boy might be an Aberrant, one of the parents at the party called a hotline and reported the incident. That night, the boy was located. He was little more than a mist-like, amorphous shadow with a pair of small, glowing eyes floating in it. He was brought to the facility here where he has remained on a permanent basis.

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Dossier HJE9760105AD

Name: Hammond, James E.
DOB: 05 Jan 1976

Class: Alpha
Ability: Drain

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Light Brown
Skin: Fair
Height: 6'1"
Build: Muscular

Reside: Habitat One, VIP Suites

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Abilities:
James has the ability to drain other Aberrants of their abilities. His range is twenty meters, and he can drain multiple targets at once. Active abilities are the most easily drained, while passive abilities are far more difficut. Abilities that alter the structure of the body, such as Shadow Alpha, Armor Alpha and Immortal Alpha are the most difficult to drain, and may prove too painful for James to actually drain. The time the drain lasts is variable, with longer drains taking a heavier toll on James' fatigue levels. Tests have shown that he is capable of draining one or two abilities and retaining them for weeks at a time without excessive strain, however.

One important limitation on his ability is that once he has drained an Aberrant and the ability has returned to them, he cannot drain the same Aberrant again for an amount of time equal to the amount of time he retained their abilities for. For example, if he drains an Aberrant of their abilities for ten minutes, he cannot drain them again for ten minutes after he loses their abilities.

Manifestation:
James abilities were discovered relatively late in life, at the age of fourteen. Initially it was thought that he was actually a Pyro Beta, but later it was shown that he had come in contact with an unmanifested Pyro and had drained their abilities without their knowledge.

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Dossier PEC9211015AI

Name: Pryce, Ephraim C.
DOB: 15 Oct 1921

Class: Alpha
Ability: Immortal

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Skin: Pale
Height: 5'11"
Build: Slight

Reside: Habitat One, VIP Suites

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Abilities:
Ephraim is immortal and invulnerable. Any wound, no matter how terrible, is healed within a few seconds. He never ages, never falls ill, and if food, water or air are removed for an extended period of time, he simply goes into a hibernation state.

Manifestation:
Ephraim is one of the first Aberrants, the only survivor of the team that initially inspected the biological remains found at the Roswell, NM crash site in 1947. All seven men on the team underwent painful transformations, but only Pryce survived his manifestation.

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Dossier GRB9850510AA

Name: Garry, Rowan B.
DOB: 10 May 1985

Class: Alpha
Ability: Armor

Eyes: Dark Blue
Hair: Dark Brown (dyed black)
Skin: Pale
Height: 5'8"
Build: Athletic

Reside: Habitat Two

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Abilities:
Rowan's abilities allow her to essentially alter her body structure into an extremely flexible living ceramic. This ceramic is very nearly invulnerable to most weapons and explosives, though sonic weapons are capable of cracking it. Small arms fire and explosive ordnance, on the other hand, will simply glance off.

The nature of the ceramic also renders Rowan invisible to most IR, motion and laser sensors. Optical cameras can view her, but may have difficulty tracking her.

When in the ceramic form, Rowan also experiences greater-than-normal strength and agility.


Manifestation:
Rowan's relatively painless manifestation at the age of nine originally led her to be classified as a Beta Armor, until testing showed her near-invulnerability to small arms fire. She was moved into the Alpha program at the age of ten by special order of Director Pryce.

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Dossier MMN9860104AP

Name: Mitsumi, Meghan
DOB: 04 Jan 1986

Class: Alpha
Ability: Pyro

Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Skin: Fair
Height: 5'7"
Build: Athletic

Reside: Habitat Two

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Abilities:
Meghan has the ability to both generate and control fire while remaining invulnerable to it. She can generate fireballs, firewalls, heat shields and other effects without breaking a sweat. The fire she generates is capable of liquifying hardened steel on contact, and she can generate fields out to a range of around ten yards radius.


Manifestation:
Meghan's abilities manifested at the age of eight while she was at a sleepover. The house was destroyed, and Meghan was the only survivor, her sobbing, soot-covered form was found in the wreckage the next morning. Her parents called one of our hotlines, and we took possession of the child the same day.

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Dossier RAP9850418AT

Name: Roth, Alexander P.
DOB: 18 Apr 1985

Class: Alpha
Ability: Telekinetic

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Skin: Fair
Height: 6'1"
Build: Athletic

Reside: Habitat Two

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Abilities:
Alexander has the ability to manipulate objects with his mind. He can lift objects weighing several tons without much effort, and he can affect several objects at once. He can fly while simultaneously generating a defensive shield and hurling objects at a target. While this makes him extremely effective in the field, it also requires a great deal of concentration to maintain for any length of time.


Manifestation:
Alexander's abilities manifested slowly, over a period of several months, so that his family was able to contact one of our hotlines before anything catastrophic occurred. He had been in our custody for almost three months before his telekinesis reached Alpha levels.

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Dossier CLE9850525AG

Name: Clark, Laura E.
DOB: 25 May 1985

Class: Alpha
Ability: Gravitic

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Skin: Fair
Height: 5'7"
Build: Slender

Reside: Habitat Two

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Abilities:
Laura has the ability to alter the force of gravity in specific locations. She can increase gravity to well over 10,000 gees or reduce it to nothing inside of areas ranging from the size of a pea to a sphere ten meters wide. Her range is limited to around a 100 meter radius.


Manifestation:
When Laura's abilities first manifested at the age of eight, she found herself at the center of a fluctuating gravitational field. She would attract and repel small objects at random, creating havoc as she walked. After several hours of this, one of the teachers at her school called our hotline. By the time our agents arrived, Laura had nearly destroyed an entire wing of the school. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries, and we were able to take her into custody without further incident.

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[Gendou]

Profiles II  

[Gendou]

Information  

[Gendou]

Information II  

[Gendou]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Kyraa: Jillian Carver (Sonic Alpha)

Romuel: Rowan Garry (Armor Alpha)

Meghan Mitsumi: Meghan Mitsumi (Pyro Alpha)

Westonian: Weston Sokol (Aero Alpha)

AllianceSJR: Kevin Reilly (Gaia Alpha)

Moryera: Robin Zendrake (Alchemy Beta)

Arcadian: Dave Havel (Feral Beta)

Tangled Up In Blue: Michael Levesque (Melee Alpha)

Grayed: Sandra Larson (Whiteout Beta)

Ruevian: Rene Nicolae (Chaos Alpha)

Usagi Zendrake: Kathy Zendrake

Amy RuffleFluff: Amy Plum (Teleport Beta)

Keptan: Matthew Wright (Shrapnel Alpha)

Kia127: Liz Brauer (Cat Beta)

Calmer: Cal Murdoch (Aqua Beta)

Deep Vermillion: Alexander Roth (Telekinetic Alpha)

PinkFuzzyBunny: Jacob Javitz (Phase Alpha)

Defenestrated: Laura Clark (Gravitic Alpha)

Eternitian: Ian Prentiss (Chrono Alpha)

Vanov: Evan Goffe (Electro Beta)

Byaggha: Meg Pasternak (Healer Beta)

Deoridhe: Wyndi Vogel (Aero Beta)

Cassidy Peterson: Fred Yates (Archer Beta)

Terianis: Marty Castillo (Armor Beta)

William Black: Adam Voss (Solar Beta)

Fiddler's Green: Erich Geiger (Magnetron Alpha)

Koumeirah: Chanan Harel (Seraphic Alpha)  

[Gendou]

CHAPTER ONE
Prologue
01 October 2005

July 8, 1947

"It crashed where?" General Ramey rested his elbows on his desk, eyes narrowing as he gazed at the man across from him.

"New Mexico," the lean man replied. "From what we can tell, it's little more than a scout," he added.

The general stroked his thin mustache as he considered the information. "How much information has already been released?"

"Not much. That idiot Blanchard issued a press release before Marcel and Cavitt could stop him. They're already working on a counter-story."

"Good," Ramey replied, "Have them release the counter-story under my name as soon as it's ready."

"Yes, General." The lean man made a quick notation in the notepad he held in his hand.

"Where are they sending the debris?"

"Most of the larger components are being sent to Wright Field," the lean man said, "But some are being sent to JPL in California."

"And the biological elements?"

"They'll be brought here, sir."

"Good." The general leaned back in his seat. "Is there any risk of contamination?"

"None that we've detected. We can't be sure of anything, though."

"We can't worry about that now, not with a potential invasion force on our doorstep," the general sighed. Sensing that the interview was over, the lean man stood to leave. He opened the door to the office. "And Pryce?"

The lean man turned back toward the desk as Ramey spoke. "Yes, General?"

"Double-check the results of the contamination testing."

"Yes, General," Pryce said, and closed the door behind him.

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July 8, 2017

"I can't believe the summer is already half-over," Jillian said, sighing into her caramel-flavored cappuccino.

"Oh, don't worry," Marietta said, smiling as she stirred her iced coffee, "We still have the trip to look forward to."

"True," Jillian agreed, taking a sip of her drink. She still felt depressed about the end of summer. She would be moving to a new town, leaving behind friends she had known all her life. Friends like Marietta. Why did her dad have to take a job so far away?

"It's getting late. We should get going." Marietta stood and retrieved her purse from where it hung on the back of her chair. Jillian stood and followed suit. They walked together to the front of the cafe,?where Marietta paid for both of their drinks, giving a smile and wink to Jillian's feeble protestations.

The bell on the cafe door chimed as they stepped out into the muggy evening. Jillian looked down the empty street and shivered, despite the heat. "It's late. Maybe we should call a cab."

"Don't be silly. The bus stop is only three blocks away." Marietta started down the sidewalk, her short brown hair bobbing softly as she walked. Jillian groaned and rushed to catch up. She always envied her friend's glossy dark hair. Her own reddish mane was always frizzing up, especially in humid weather like tonight.

"We can still call a cab," she said, looking back toward the cafe.? The owner was just turning the 'open' sign to 'closed' as she did so. Looking toward Marietta, she hung back as her friend started to cross the street. Marietta paused on the crosswalk and put her hands on her hips.

"Come on, Jillian. We're almost there." Despite her exasperated tone, there was still a twinkle of good humor in her eyes.

Jillian nodded and started toward her friend when she saw the headlights. Her shock must have shown on her face, because Marietta turned around as the speeding vehicle approached at high speed.

"NO!" Jillian screamed, reaching out for her friend as time seemed to stop. She saw the car now, a low-slung sports car; saw the distracted expression on the driver's face as he talked on a cell-phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear; saw the fear etched in Marietta's eyes as she realized the car wasn't going to brake in time. Jillian could see everything. But all she could hear was her own scream - shrill, incoherent, and loud.

And then the car seemed to crumple and fly backwards, as if swatted by a giant hand. The windows of the shops lining the street shattered in unison, and Marietta dropped to her knees, clutching her ears. The car spun backwards into a pole, twisting around it and finally coming to a rest several hundred meters from where it had begun, looking less like a fancy sports car and more like something from a scrapyard.

Jillian rushed to Marietta's side, kneeling next to her friend. Marietta's eyes were wide with shock as she stared at Jillian. She didn't even seem to notice the blood trickling from her ears.

"Oh, God," she breathed, swallowing hard. Jillian was already shaking her head in denial as Marietta pointed an accusatory finger at her friend. "Oh, God, no. You..." Marietta almost choked as she spoke. "You're one of them..."

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CHAPTER TWO
Glass Heart
01 October 2005

February 19, 1995

Ephraim Pryce sat at his desk, leafing through the dossier in front of him. "And you say she's only ten years old?" He looked up at the man sitting across from him.

"Yes, sir." The young man was clearly nervous about speaking with the director.

"Have the doctors managed to duplicate her abilities in any way?"

"No sir. They aren't even sure of the process involved."

"Damnably strange. But useful."

"Yes sir."

"I want her fast-tracked for wetwork," Pryce said, closing the folder and returning it to the young man.

"Sir?" His tone was one of quiet disbelief.

"Her abilities are too useful to ignore, Harris."

"But sir, she's only ten years old." Now Jason Harris was pleading. Rowan had been one of his first assignments, and the sweet-natured little girl had won him over. He knew the primary purpose for Project Moebius was recruitment, but he had hoped to shield the child from the worst of it. That seemed a lost cause now.

"Which means she'll learn more quickly than the teenagers we typically employ for the same tasks," Pryce replied. His tone was kind, but firm. Harris hung his head. Definitely a lost cause.

"I'll take her up to Gamma Dormitory in the morning," he said, hoping he could soften the blow to the little girl. Maybe take her out for ice-cream when he told her...

Pryce just smiled knowingly at the young man. "No, Jason. You'll do it tonight."

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July 22, 2017

Rowan Garry sat on the rooftop, her short hair ruffled by the strong breeze that blew between the buildings. Several hundred feet below, the city went on about its business, ignorant as usual of those who protected them from harm. Taking off her sunglasses, she closed her eyes and arched her back, basking in the warm sunlight.

Opportunities to relax like this were far and few between, and should be savored. Still, her new assignment should be a walk in the park compared to what she was used to. So why was she dreading it so much? An opportunity to teach infiltration tactics at the Academy didn't come along every day.

Still, she would miss fieldwork. For the past twenty years - the vast majority of her life - it was all she had known. She had made her first stealth penetration when she was only twelve. She had committed her first assassination on her fourteenth birthday. And by the time she turned twenty, she had already been a key figure in the toppling of six foreign governments.

Her special abilities, her inborn birthright, made her one of the best black-ops agents the United States government had ever employed. And despite her successes, only a very few people even knew she existed.

Sometime around her eighth birthday, her life had changed forever. She had discovered that she had the ability to change her body into a super-hard and flexible ceramic. The upshot of this was that she became very nearly indetectable by electronic means. Infrared registered no heat. Radar was absorbed or scattered. And lasers were fragmented, but not disrupted. In other words, unless someone saw her visually, she simply was not there.

The ceramic was also hard enough to deflect small arms fire, as well as flexible enough to survive concussive and fragmentary explosives. So even if she was seen, there was little that could be done to actually keep her from completing her mission.

Not that anyone survived to tell about having seen her.

And now she was going to give it all up to teach a bunch of ungrateful, snot-nosed brats how to do her job. She knew that the last few generations of Aberrants had proven to be a disappointment to Director Pryce and the rest of the team leads at Project Moebius. So what they expected her to do with them was anyone's guess.

Sighing, Rowan picked up her sunglasses and put them back on. One last mission before she had to report to the Academy in the morning. Walking over towards the skylight, she expertly popped one of the panes out and dropped twenty feet to the soft carpet below. A middle-aged man was sitting by the window, looking out as he stroked the cat that sat purring in his lap.

"I was wondering when they would send someone," he said, not looking at her. Rowan said nothing, but slipped up behind him. He continued to stroke the cat. Rowan placed her hands on either side of the man's head. His breathing hastened. "I'm glad it was you," Jason Harris said.

With one smooth motion, Rowan snapped his neck.

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CHAPTER THREE
One-Sided
02 October 2005

October 23, 1966

"And you want me to head up this new division?"

"That would be the idea, yes." General Carter smiled disarmingly.

"And I would answer to you?"

"Naturally, Ephraim." The general's dark eyes glittered like hard jewels.

"What is the name of this new division?" Pryce asked, realizing what the general already knew - he was going to take this job.

"We're acquiring funding under the name Project Moebius, ostensibly for a new fusion-based power source."

"And what will be the primary directive for this division?"

Carter leaned forward, his too-friendly smile never quite reaching his eyes. "Aberrants are a resource, Ephraim. We need to put this resource to use for the United States."

Pryce shook his head. "The total number of Aberrants in the United States population is relatively tiny. And of those, only a miniscule percentage have abilities that are perceivable outside of a laboratory environment. And of those, only one out of every ten survive the initial manifestation of their abilities."

"Like you?" Carter asked, steepling his fingers.

"Like me," Pryce affirmed. He glanced at his reflection in the glass doors of the general's bookshelves. It was the same face he had worn to his meeting with General Ramey almost twenty years ago.

In September of 1947, Pryce and six other men had begun working with the biologicals recovered from the Roswell crash site. Five months later, Pryce was the only man still alive - and he hadn't aged a day since.

"When an Aberrant does manifest, we need to be there to take control of the situation," the general said. "I leave the details to you." He picked up a sheaf of papers from his desk and began thumbing through them, signaling to Pryce that the meeting was over.

Pryce slowly stood, suddenly feeling his forty-five years as if he had actually aged. Being tasked with policing Aberrants by the NSA was not how he had imagined spending his career with intelligence.

But he knew, as they did, that there really was no-one else for the job.

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July 15, 2017

"And I'm telling you, we already have plenty of shriekers," Hammond said, pushing the proffered dossier away with his free hand. Meghan sighed and stuck the folder under his nose again.

"Not like this one, James," she said, sitting next to him on the bench. He studiously ignored her, continuing to pump the hand weight with his left arm. "She's an Alpha Abberant," she persisted.

The weight paused in mid-pump. Hammond turned to face the woman. "An Alpha shrieker?" he asked, incredulous. "We've never had one manifest before."

"She blew a speeding car clean off the road and shattered every window in a two block radius." Meghan's lips twitched as she tried to hide a self-satisfied smile.

"An Alpha shrieker?" Hammond repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. He set the hand weight down. "You're having her brought in?"

"Of course," Meghan said, finally allowing herself to smile. Hammond didn't seem to notice.

"Good. Good. Have you told Pryce?"

"Not yet. I thought I'd leave the honors to you."

"Good call," Hammond said. He stood and walked toward the men's locker room. "I'll meet you in my office in ten-" he paused, then continued, "-make that twenty minutes."

"I'll see you there," Meghan replied, smiling. Not for the first time, she wondered how the man had made assistant director without her around. Sighing, she gathered up her papers. She needed to stop by her own office before she headed to his.

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CHAPTER FOUR
Academic Probation
02 October 2005

January 10, 1973

"This Academy will help us to train the Alpha Aberrants, then?" The President pushed his reading glasses up the bridge his nose as he read over the document in front of him.

"Among others. Beta and Gamma Aberrants have their uses as well." Ephraim Pryce knew he would get his authorization. It wasn't a matter of 'if,' anymore, but only a matter of 'when.'

"I thought the Gammas had abilities that were almost indetectable." The President looked up, surprise on his face.

"They do, Mister President, but by studying them we can determine what it is that makes Aberrants unique."

"I thought it was the alien DNA integrating itself into their own," the President said.

"That is the initial cause. The problem is that many Aberrant abilities seem to defy the laws of nature. We can't explain how they work, but we know that they do. Once we understand how they work, we can begin working to find a cure."

"A cure?" The President was incredulous. "You can't be serious. Aberrants are our first line of defense against the invasion."

Pryce sighed inwardly, but maintained his outward neutrality. 'The invasion' was something the United States government had been planning against since the first confirmed craft sightings in 1947. Other than the one craft that crashed in New Mexico, however, no other physical evidence of extraterrestrial activity had been obtained.

'The invasion' appeared to be a bust.

"Mister President, once we understand how these genetic aberrations work, we can begin more serious work on Project Blue."

"My advisors tell me Project Blue is a pipe-dream, Director Pryce."

"Project Blue is our only hope of meeting the invasion forces on an equal footing. Once we know how the aberrations work, we can begin engineering our own super-soldiers, with abilities of our choosing."

The President looked over his glasses at Pryce, then resumed shuffling through the papers in his hand. "Well, everything appears to be in order. You'll have your funding for the Academy."

"Thank you, Mister President." And Pryce allowed himself a rare smile.

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March 16, 2017

"And do you know why you all have an Academy to attend?" Meghan asked, tapping the chalkboard with her pointer. No-one raised their hand. Shaking her head, Meghan pointed to a boy in the middle of the room. "Kevin?"

"To keep us away from the normals?" the boy asked, deadpan. Several of the kids in the room snickered. Meghan frowned and flicked her pointer against the chalkboard with a snap. Silence fell over the class as she ran her furious gaze over the students.

"No. Anyone else?" She scanned the room slowly, her eyes finally falling on student in the back of the room. The boy was slouched in his seat, his eyes closed and his head nodding so low his chin touched his chest. She raised an eyebrow slowly. "Weston?"

The boy didn't look up. "Because Nixon issued an executive order signing the Mandatory Aberrant Education Act into law in 1973." His eyes were still closed as he spoke.

Meghan sighed. "Correct," she admitted. Why were the smart ones always so lazy? She shook her head as the bell rang. "Don't forget, your history assignments are due on Tuesday!" she shouted over the bustle as the students packed up their belongings.

In the back of the room, Weston stretched and yawned, then scratched a scraggly growth of facial hair on his chin. "Mister Sokol, a word?" Weston blinked in surprise as she addressed him.

"Ooooh, bust-ed," Kevin laughed as he left the room. Meghan resisted the urge to chuck an eraser after him.

"Yeah?" Weston asked as he walked to the front of the class. His eyes were half-lidded as if he were still half-asleep, but the eyes beneath the lids were alert, taking in everything around him.

"What do I need to do to get you to participate in the class?" Meghan asked, hands on her hips.

"I don't know. Challenge me?" Weston sat down on a desk and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. The long-sleeved flannel shirt he wore open over his gray-green t-shirt gave him an oddly relaxed look, as if he were lounging in his pajamas instead of sitting in a classroom in school.

"Would you like to be moved to a more advanced program?" she asked. Weston's eyes were instantly focused on her, their clear blue intensity burning with an inner light.

"Is there a more advanced program?" he asked. His tone made it clear that he wasn't sure if she was mocking him or not.

"Let me see what I can do," Meghan said, hoping that Hammond wouldn't cut her off on this one. Weston was languishing in these primary classes - he should have been moved to the Alpha program two semesters ago. He had the Aberrant abilities, and he had the intellect.

But Hammond said the boy didn't seem motivated enough. Hopefully she could talk him into giving Weston a trial run. To do otherwise was a severe disservice to both Weston and the Project.

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CHAPTER FIVE
Categorical Denials
02 October 2005

February 2, 1967

PROJECT MOEBIUS
To: General Marshall S. Carter, Director, National Security Agency
From: Doctor Ephraim R. Pryce, Director, Project Moebius
RE: Aberrant Classifications

Per your directive to begin classifying the Aberrants we are working with, we have developed four categories to describe Aberrants of increasing power. These categories are, by necessity, extremely subjective and highly fluid.

Delta: Delta Aberrants have not yet manifested their abilities in any way. They are, by and large, indistinguishable from the population at large except through intensive genetic testing.

Gamma: Gamma Aberrants have manifested their abilities, but the abilities are of such minor significance that they are usually only detectable in the confines of a laboratory test.

Beta: Beta Aberrants have manifested their abilities in such a way as to call attention to themselves. Betas are the ones that we typically allow to appear in news reports, as their abilities are noticeable, but harmless.

Alpha: Alpha Aberrants are the rarest form of Aberrant, and the most powerful. The vast majority (close to 80% by our latest calculations) of Alphas do not survive the manifestation of their abilities. Those that do are typically scarred either physically or emotionally. Typically when an Alpha manifests, they create a great deal of chaos or destruction. We are usually able to create cover stories to explain these events, so the public is largely unaware of the existence of these most powerful Aberrants.

It should also be noted that the public remains unaware of the true cause behind the Aberrants. Our current cover explanation is that this is the natural result of evolution, accelerated by atmospheric nuclear weapons testing. While this has placed some pressure on those in the Nuclear Weapons Programs, it has diverted attention away from the true nature of the Aberrants. It is my recommendation that we continue to maintain this cover for as long as is feasible.

Signed,
Ephraim Pryce
Director, Project Moebius

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September 4, 2017

"I can't believe the semester is already starting," Robin said, swinging her backpack as she walked down the hallway toward her locker.

"I can't believe you're actually excited about being back in school," Kevin replied, shaking his head in disgust. Robin cocked her head to one side and stared at her friend.

"Don't tell me you didn't miss the place even a little bit," she laughed, spinning as she walked, her arms outstretched to take in the entire school. Kevin barely dodged her backpack as it swung past his head.

"Uhm, no." He stopped at his locker and thumbed the biometric scanner. The locker beeped and popped open, allowing the accumulated detritus of the previous semester to come tumbling out. Kevin growled and caught the majority of it, stuffing it back in, along with some new items he had brought with him.

"I don't see how you can do that," Robin murmured, opening her own locker. The inside was empty, having been carefully cleared out on the last day of school. She placed her backpack inside and began carefully removing her books, ordering them on the shelves by class.

"I don't see how you can do that," Kevin retorted. He shouldered the door of his locker until it crunched shut. Kevin winced at the sound, but made no other comment. Robin rolled her eyes and finished organizing her things before closing her own locker.

"Well, at least I know what's inside my locker," she said.

Kevin snorted. "At least I get a surprise every time I reach in an-" he broke off suddenly, his attention drawn to a boy coming down the hallway. He chuckled evilly. "Fresh meat, eleven o'clock."

"Kevin, no," Robin pleaded. Kevin just smiled and ran his hands through his short brown hair and down over his face. As he did so, his form began to shrink, losing fifty pounds and four inches in a matter of seconds, while gaining distinctly feminine curves.

"Aw, Robin, it's not like we have a new kid every day," she said, turning to look at her friend, tossing her long red hair as she did so. Robin looked away, unable to deal with Kevin's pleading while he was in female form.

"Just... do what you want," Robin muttered. She couldn't stop him - her - even if she wanted to. And she wasn't sure she did. It was always entertaining for Kevin to try to pull this off on someone unsuspecting. Everyone in the school already knew about his alternate form.

Kevin was already down the hall and leaning against a locker near the new boy. Robin inched closer to hear their discussion. Kevin was desperately trying to look sexy, which was difficult while wearing men's clothing that was at least three sizes too large for her.

"So, you're new here?" she asked, batting her lashes at the boy.

"Yeah," the boy said, not looking at her as he put his books into his locker.

"What's your name? I'm Arienne." She tugged on her belt to keep her pants up and almost lost her balance.

"I'm Dave," the boy said. He finished placing his things in his locker and then closed it, finally turning his attention to the cute redhead trying to get his attention.

"That's a nice name, Dave," she said. "So where are you from?"

"Out of town," Dave said, looking past Kevin and down the hallway.

"Really? That's so interesting," Kevin cooed. Robin nearly gagged.

"Look, I need to get-" Dave began, but Kevin hurriedly cut him off.

"So what are you doing after school, Dave?" she asked, touching the new boy's arm. Dave flinched and looked at Kevin askance.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't date guys," Dave said, pushing past the redhead and stalking down the hall. Kevin turned and stared after him, then looked to Robin in disbelief.

"What? I'm not a guy!" Kevin said, racing to catch up. Robin followed.

"Sure you aren't," Dave said.

"Why on earth would yo-"

"Look, man, you don't smell like a girl, okay?" Dave looked exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. "You smell like a dude, which is cool, but I'm not into that." He headed down the corridor again.

Kevin ran his fingers up his face and through his hair, instantly gaining what he had lost. Tugging on his pants to secure them, he raced after the other boy. "I don't smell like a girl? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, totally." Dave didn't look back as he turned the corner and disappeared. Kevin stopped and turned to Robin, his face a mask of confusion.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked. Robin couldn't control herself any longer. She broke into peals of gasping, breathless laughter. Kevin blinked at her for a moment, but soon lost control of his own chuckles. The pair laughed long and hard as they walked to their first class of the new semester.

=========================================

CHAPTER SIX
Class Warfare
05 October 2005

May 24, 2010

"And he just vanished?" Pryce shook his head in dismay.

"Like smoke, they said." Hammond re-crossed his legs and situated the folder on them in a more comfortable manner. "This picture was apparently taken earlier in the day." Hammond tossed a 4x5 print across the desk to his boss.

Pryce glanced down at the photograph in his hands. It pictured a pale, chubby child with long dark hair and sad eyes. The boy, no older than ten or so, gazed balefully at Pryce from behind long bangs. Pryce sighed and handed the print back to Hammond. "James, what on earth are we supposed to do with him?"

"Educate him. He's an Aberrant, and he's an Alpha." Hammond's voice held no doubt whatsoever.

"He'll be difficult to handle, what with his special needs."

"I'll take care of him personally, sir."

Pryce nodded, as if this had been expected. "And what will you tell the family?"

"What we always tell them," Hammond said, getting to his feet. "That we're terribly sorry for their loss."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 4, 2017

"So which students are mine?" Rowan asked as she sat down across from Meghan.

Meghan handed the new teacher a stack of dossiers. "These are the ones we're recommending for Alpha-level infiltration training."

"Gendou Kurohisa," Rowan said, flipping through the top file. "Shadow Alpha?"

"The only known shadow in existence. His entire body is formed of living darkness," Meghan explained. "He can mold it into various shapes, and has even learned to solidify it to some extent."

"Interesting ability," Rowan acknowledged, reading on.

"Bright light, particularly sunlight, has always been dangerous to him," Meghan continued on. "His initial manifestation was at a birthday party. His parents were trying to encourage him to be outdoors, because he hated sunlight so much. They held his tenth birthday party in the middle of a nearby park at noon."

"And?" Rowan looked up, interested.

"They lined the children up for a photograph, out in the sun. The photographer, for whatever reason, still used a flash. The flash combined with the sunlight proved... catastrophic for him."

"How so?"

"He completely discorporated. Just... vanished, leaving behind his clothes."

"When did they find him?" Rowan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Our people found him that night. He was terrified, of course, and unable to take human form at all. Just a pool of shadow with a pair of glowing eyes."

"How horrible."

"Assistant Director Hammond took him under his wing, and the boy has done as well as can be expected. He's still rather asocial, but at least he attends classes with the other children now. He's the only shadow we know of - Alpha or otherwise - so he's essentially alone in the world."

"And now you want to put him in my class?" Rowan glared at Meghan.

"He's a really smart kid, Ro. He's just quiet. If you want him to participate, you have to ask him. He won't volunteer."

Rowan snorted, but tossed the dossier into the acceptance pile anyway. "Speaking of quiet," she said, looking over the next one. Meghan peeked over the top, then blushed.

"That's Jillian, our Sonic Alpha," she said.

"You found an Alpha Shrieker?" Rowan asked, paling slightly. Sonics were one of the few things that could affect her ferro-ceramic body.

Meghan nodded. "I insisted on bringing her in, due to the unique nature of her ability. The problem is that she refuses to shriek. Or even speak."

"I can't imagine why," Rowan said, the sarcasm in her tone heavy even for her.

"Her best friend turning her in to us was bad enough, but apparently she was there when they pulled the guy out of his car. The shockwaves were so intense at the focal point that they literally liquefied his internal organs and turned his bones to a fine powder. He came apart as they were trying to get him into a body bag."

"Wonderful."

"I'll be working with her over the course of the semester, but I think being in your class will help her," Meghan said.

"Shriekers aren't made for infiltration, Meghan."

"It's still a valuable skill. Besides, I think being in your class will help her."

Rowan hesitated, but tossed the dossier into the acceptance stack. Flipping through the next folder, her eyes narrowed.

"Why is there a Beta in my class?" she asked, handing the file to Meghan.

Meghan glanced at it, then nodded. "David has increased strength, reflexes and senses, so we felt he was an ideal addition to your class."

"But he's still a Beta," Rowan said.

"His abilities are on the low end, yes, but they still represent a fifty percent increase over the norm. And we haven't seen this particular combination before."

"Still, Feral Beta?"

"He's a little wolf-like," Meghan said, flushing.

Rowan grinned. "You came up with the name, didn't you?"

Meghan said nothing, but put the dossier onto the acceptance pile. Rowan looked at it, then shook her head and moved on to the next one.

"Gaia Alpha," she mused, looking over the file in front of her. "Wait, he has to turn into a girl in order to use his abilities?"

"Yes," Meghan said. "His metamorphic abilities are purely Beta-level, but his geokinesis and florakinesis are Alpha-class."

"But he can only control rocks and plants while in female form?"

"Yes. We're transitioning him to a few Alpha-level classes on a probationary basis."

"Why wasn't he in Alpha-level classes before, then?" Rowan asked.

There was a pause. "Kevin is one of our more outgoing and well-adjusted students," Meghan finally said.

"Meaning he's a royal pain in the a**," Rowan chuckled, tossing his dossier into the acceptance stack. She flipped through the next few quickly, tossing two into the rejection pile and one into the acceptance stack. Meghan glanced at the two rejected ones, but said nothing. Rowan paused at the fourth one. "Another Beta," she said.

"Who?" Meghan asked.

"Robin Zendrake," Rowan said. She flipped through the file. "Alchemy Beta?"

"She's a genius with chemicals," Meghan said.

"Good for her. Why is she in my class?"

"Her mother wants her moved to Alpha level classes."

"Fine. Just not mine." Rowan tossed the folder into the rejection heap.

Meghan picked it up and handed it back. "Her mother is Dr. Kathy Zendrake, Ro."

For the second time that day, Rowan paled. "She has a kid?"

"A couple of them," Meghan said, amused by her friend's nervousness.

"That needle," Rowan whispered. "I still have nightmares about it."

"It was your own damned fault," Meghan said. "If you had just let her stick you with the regular ones without turning ceramic, she wouldn't have had to drill."

"It hurt," Rowan hissed.

"But you let her stick your skin after that, didn't you," Meghan asked.

Rowan said nothing, but moved Robin's dossier to the acceptance folder. Few people in the world intimidated her. Fewer still scared her. Kathy Zendrake, M.D. utterly terrified her. She looked over the last four folders in her hand.

"Weston Sokol," she said, glancing over the file. "Good god, Meghan."

"I know," Meghan said, trying not to look smug.

"Hammond wanted to keep him out of the Alpha program?" Rowan looked aghast.

"I know," Meghan repeated. "Our Aero Alpha."

"His IQ is almost as high as the Kurohisa boy, and his abilities..." Rowan trailed off as she read on.

"When he concentrates, he can set the air around him ablaze."

"Plasma creation, electrical arcing, shockwaves, whirlwinds," Rowan read down the list. She paused. "A bus?" she asked.

"For three miles, without breaking a sweat."

"I'm sure the students weren't amused."

"It was the parents who wanted his head," Meghan said. "No one wanted to admit that their precious babies had been saved by a thirteen-year-old Aberrant who kept the bus aloft when the bridge collapsed."

"Bigots," Rowan muttered.

"But it's our fault, Ro," Meghan sighed sadly. "We're the ones who tell the public how dangerous Aberrants are. We're the ones who put public service announcements out asking for people to report Aberrant activity. We're the ones-"

"I know that," Rowan snapped. She tossed the dossier onto the acceptance stack and perused the next one. "Sandra Larson," she said.

"Whiteout Beta. We're thinking of moving her classification to Alpha, though."

"Why?" Rowan asked, reading the file.

"Initially, we thought her ability was limited to making people notice her. That she could walk into a room and instantly have every eye on her."

"But?"

"But we discovered she can also do the opposite. We ran a test where she walked into a heavily guarded room and fired a paintball gun at a subject while in full view of the guards."

"And?"

"And no-one cared until the guy cried out. And even then, they didn't notice her. They saw her, yes - they pushed past her and even bumped into her. But they didn't notice her. Afterwards, not a single guard could tell us anything about her. Half of them didn't even know she was in the room."

"That's scary," Rowan said calmly.

"Very. Hence the consideration for increasing her classification level."

"Let's see how she does in my class first," Rowan said, laying the file on top of the acceptance stack. She browsed the next to last file. She said nothing for a short while, just reading.

"Who is it?" Meghan finally asked.

"Melee Alpha," Rowan replied. "Michael Levesque." She continued to read.

"Interesting ability, isn't it?" Meghan asked, grinning.

"Why isn't he classified as a metamorph?"

"Because, technically, he isn't one. He can simply form weapons from his hands."

"Along with, apparently, the expertise to use them."

"He's very good. Pryce wanted him moved into wetwork."

"Why wasn't he?"

"Psychologically, he didn't test well for it. He likes to fight, but he has a sense of honor about it."

"So slitting someone's throat from behind in the dark would somehow be wrong, then," Rowan said, her tone making it a statement of fact rather than an inquiry.

"More or less," Meghan admitted.

"So why put him in my class?"

"We're hoping you can show him differently," Meghan replied.

"We'll see," Rowan said, tossing it onto the acceptance pile. She flipped through the last one. "Chaos Alpha?" she asked.

"Rene Nicolae," Meghan said.

Rowan shook her head as she read the file. "How can she get any sort of grasp on her abilities at all?"

"She can't. That's a large part of the problem," Meghan admitted.

"Dangerous," Rowan said.

"Very. And she has a temper."

"Any incidents?" Rowan opened the dossier to the back.

"Nothing serious. Yet. But she's showing progress with her control, so we're moving her up to the Alpha program."

"I don't like this, Meghan."

"Pryce wants her in your class," Meghan said.

"I still don't like it." Rowan set the file on the acceptance heap. "I really don't like it."

"Don't worry," Meghan said, patting her friend on the shoulder, "I'll be here with you."

Rowan nodded, but the furrow in her brow didn't disappear, even as the two women stood and headed out to the cafeteria for lunch.

=========================================

CHAPTER SEVEN
Pet Teachers
05 October 2005

January 18, 2012

"Teach?"

"Yes, Ms. Mitsumi. Teach." Pryce steepled his fingers and glared across the desk at his protege.

"But," Meghan paused, looking at Pryce, "but I thought I was going to stay in the field."

"Ms. Garry has made it clear that you would be better suited to a position here at the Academy."

"But sir," she gasped, as if punched, "did Rowan say I wasn't a good field agent?"

"Far from it, she said you were an exemplary agent. The problem is not with your skills, but with your abilities, Meghan." Pryce's use of her first name was deliberate.

"I'm a Pyro Alpha," Meghan said.

"And Pyro Aberrants are a dime a dozen. What is exceedingly less common are agents with field experience who also have the ability to pass on their experience to a new generation."

"Sir..."

"You are far, far more valuable to me here than you could ever be out in the field," Pryce said. "I will not waste a resource like that."

"I understand," Meghan whispered, head bowed.

"Go meet with Assistant Director Hammond," Pryce said, his tone somewhat gentler than it had been. "He will arrange everything."

"Yes sir." Meghan stood and walked numbly to the door. Her entire world had just come to a screeching halt inside of ten minutes. What was she supposed to do now?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 4, 2017

"I'm pleased you could join us, Mister Reilly," Meghan said as Kevin raced into the room just as the bell rang. He dropped into a seat at the front next to Robin, who shook her head at her friend. Running his fingers through his short, dark hair, Kevin grinned at Meghan.

"Well, if you're happy, then there's nothing to worry about." His grin slowly faded as Meghan glared at him, pondering whether or not Pryce would fire her for setting a student on fire.

"We're beginning a new semester today," she finally said. Kevin breathed a sigh of relief and sank low in his chair. "As most of you are aware, the Academy does not have grades, but instead teaches all high-school age students together in one group, advancing students to higher levels as warranted."

Turning to the door, she waved Rowan inside. The dark-haired, pale-skinned woman smiled and waved to the students, who, for the most part, smiled back. Meghan mentally noted the holdouts and determined to have a talk after class with some of them.

"I'd like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine," she said. "This is Rowan Garry. She will be teaching the fifth-period Infiltration Tactics class that many of you have enrolled in." She noticed that this got the attention of some of the students. She was pleased, but not surprised, to see Weston lean forward with obvious interest. He was always interested in Tactics classes, and Meghan was sure he would end up a field lead upon graduation.

"I hope we can learn a lot together," Rowan said. Meghan was amused to see her friend so nervous in front of the students. Rowan glanced at her, and Meghan felt her face heat up, hoping her friend didn't read her expression. If she did, she didn't let on. Smiling at the class once more, Rowan left the room.

Meghan waited a few moments, then picked up her textbook. "Now, did everyone do their reading over the summer?" She glanced around the room, taking in the pleased or guilty expressions she found. She pointed to a guilty one. "Matt?"

"I, uh, didn't have time," the boy said, his dark blue eyes wincing as he spoke. She let him stew for a moment, then moved on to one of the pleased students.

"Amy?" The blonde lit up like a Christmas tree at being chosen.

"Oh, I did," she breathed. "I especially liked Margate's Aberration Menace."

Meghan tried to hide her surprise. Margate's pamphlet - she refused to call the manifesto a book - was one of the examples of hate literature she had assigned to the group. That sweet-natured Amy Plum would have enjoyed reading it was a bit of surprise. "Really? Why is that?"

"Because it helped me to realize that the people who hate us are simply afraid of us because they're ignorant. Ignorance can be destroyed through education. It gives me hope that someday Aberrants might be accepted by society as a whole." Amy's eyes sparkled with the hope she felt.

Meghan smiled proudly at her student. "I'm very pleased you came to that realization by reading that particular piece, Amy," she said. Movement caught her eye, and she turned to find Michael with his hand in the air. She gestured to the boy.

"It's well and good to hope that education can solve the problem of discrimination," the boy said, his blue eyes focused intently on Meghan. Oddly, she found herself wondering if the blonde highlights in his dark hair were natural or not. Michael continued, "But prejudice and ignorance have always been with us. Education, like it or not, has not eradicated the problem with social attitudes toward other groups. I doubt very much we will see a change in social attitudes toward Aberrants either."

"But prejudice against those groups has been lessened through education," dark-haired Liz Brauer interjected, brown eyes flashing as she spoke.

"I'm hardly suggesting we cease all efforts at education," Michael said, turning to Liz. "I'm simply saying that we can't expect education to solve everything."

"Or anything," Rene muttered from the back of the room. The girl had her heavy military boots up on her desk and was rocking back in her chair, leaning her blue-dyed hair against the wall behind her.

"Ignorance is bliss, huh?" retorted Dave Havel. Rene's head came around slowly, her ice-pale eyes boring holes through the boy's back. Meghan sighed. She had hoped the discussion wouldn't require her to step in.

"Okay, let's calm down and get back on track. I'd like to hear your ideas about what you've read." She looked around the room again, noting with some surprise that Gendou actually appeared to be paying attention. Usually it was more than she could do to get him to maintain a vaguely human form while in class, even with the lights dimmed in the back corner where he sat. Now, glowing red eyes moved about in the shadows of the corner.

"So if not education, then what?" Weston asked, turning around to look at Michael.

"I don't know," the other boy admitted. "As far as I can tell, ignorance is part of the human condition. Solve that, and you might have a chance at eradicating prejudice."

"Maybe if Aberrants were in charge, things would be different," Cal Murdoch said. Meghan groaned inwardly.
Cal was one of those exceptionally rare beings - a second-generation Aberrant. His parents, both Beta-class Aberrants, had managed to have a child together, a statistical rarity for Aberrant couples. Even more surprising, their child had manifested Beta abilities early on. It was thought that with sufficient training, his Aqua Beta abilities might be coaxed into Alpha levels.

Unsurprisingly, Cal and his parents were the poster-children for the Aberrant-Superiority movement, proof that Aberrants weren't a genetic dead-end and that their genes could be passed on from one generation to the next.

"Let's not go down that road today," Meghan said, sensing the class wasn't ready for that particular discussion. Cal looked discomfited, but said nothing. Meghan sighed. Apart from his radical politics, he was a good kid, and a good student.

Turning to the chalkboard, she began scribbling down the assignment for Wednesday. For a first day, she couldn't hope for better. She just hoped that the rest of the day would be as smooth.

=========================================

CHAPTER EIGHT
Form and Void
06 October 2005

January 12, 2008

"Steel?"

"More like a carbon-reinforced ceramic," Kathy said.

"Like Doll?" Hammond glanced through the dossier in front of him.

"Similar, though Ms. Garry's exodermic armor is much more flexible than the weapons Michael can form."

"Impressive skills," Hammond said, flipping pages as he read. "How traumatized was he by his manifestation?"

"Honestly, James, I'm not sure he comprehends what he's done."

"He killed his own father," Hammond said, looking up from the document in his hand.

"He's eight years old, only a year older than Robin. I don't think he can wrap his mind around what happened." Kathy Zendrake sighed and sat on the edge of her desk. One of the inevitabilities of working with Aberrant children was that you tended to view them in light of your own children. It was only that much worse when one of your children was an unmanifested Delta Aberrant herself.

Hammond handed the dossier back to Kathy. "When can he begin attending classes?"

"Do you want my opinion as a doctor or as a human being?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I want your honest evaluation of the subject's suitability for introduction into the Academy, doctor," Hammond said, stressing Kathy's title.

"He can begin attending classes when the semester starts," she replied without hesitation.

"Good," Hammond replied. Turning on his heel, the Assistant Director left the medical suite without another word.

"a**," Kathy muttered at his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 4, 2017

"You shouldn't even be allowed to take chemistry," Kevin muttered as he carefully added sodium hydroxide to the glucose-water solution already in the flask.

Robin just smiled and continued to stir the considerably more complicated mixture in the vial in front of her. "They let you take biology, don't they?"

"That's different and you know it," Kevin said. He tried to find the next additive for the experiment, but it seemed to have gone missing.

"Only because you don't study," Robin replied, her tone sweet. Kevin shot her an annoyed look, then shook his head and went back to searching for the missing ingredient for his lab.

"What on earth are you making," he finally asked, staring at the bubbling, brownish liquid in the vial.

"I think I've discovered the recipe for Coca-Cola," Robin said, holding the vial up to the light and squinting.

Kevin blinked, then grinned. "Cool," he laughed.

. . . . .

Across the room, Michael and Liz were adding methylene blue to their own solution. Liz adjusted her safety glasses as Michael added a few drops to the half-empty flask. The solution remained transparent. Making sure the top was secured, he held his thumb over the rubber stopper and shook the flask. The entire solution turned pale blue.

"Oxidation successful," he said as Liz noted the reaction in her notebook. Michael set the flask down and waited for the water to settle. The color slowly faded until the liquid was transparent again.

"Reduction successful," Liz said, smiling as she wrote. Michael nodded. Looking up, he saw Professor Hicks pacing down the aisle, examining each of the experiments in turn. She smiled at Liz and Michael's experiment, then moved on.

"I guess we did well," Michael said.

"I guess so," Liz said, still smiling. She was friendly and outgoing, and one of the more popular girls in school. Michael got along well with her, and if she weren't already dating Cal Murdoch, he might have asked her out.

Glancing toward the back of the room, he saw Matt and Weston struggling with their experiment. "Too much liquid," Michael hissed at them in frustration. The pair had filled their flask almost to the top, and now with the stopper in it, there wasn't enough oxygen in the flask to cause a reaction with the methylene blue in the solution.

"What was that?" Liz asked, looking up from her notebook.

"Oh, nothing," Michael said, feeling his face heat up. A crash from the back of the lab drew everyone's attention, saving him from further embarrassment.

A shadowy form flickered over the remains of a smashed vial, gathering the shards and depositing them on the table. Professor Hicks was talking to the shadow in low, soft tones. Michael was too far away to hear what she was saying, but he expected the diminutive teacher was trying to reassure her student that dropping a flask wasn't anything to be concerned over.

Michael might almost have believed her if Gendou hadn't dropped a flask during the course of almost every single lab.

"He has a hard time holding on to things, doesn't he?" Liz asked, cocking her head to one side as she watched the amorphous pool of shadow slide up the wall.

"I don't envy him a bit," was all Michael said. Two glowing red eyes seemed to focus on him from the shadows, and for a moment, Michael felt a chill run down his spine as he wondered if the shadow-boy had heard him. But the eyes roamed past him, intent on something else.

When the bell rang a moment later, the shadow darted for the door and slipped under it without bothering to open it. Michael sighed and began gathering his things. Maybe being completely formless did have its advantages.

=========================================

CHAPTER NINE
Training Day
06 October 2005

May 17, 2004

"Another semester finished," Pryce said, looking out the window.

"Are you relieved?" Hammond asked. At twenty-eight, he was beginning to look older than the man who had been a more of a father to him than his own father.

"I'm pleased that the Project has expanded so greatly. The Academy is truly the pinnacle of my successes with Project Moebius." Pryce looked back at his assistant. "But yes, I am relieved."

"Classes are getting bigger every year," Hammond noted.

"And talent is getting rarer," Pryce scoffed.

"There's still some hope. Meghan has graduated," Hammond said. "She'll be joining Doll in the field next month."

"Doll," Pryce mused. "Those code-names never stick, do they?"

"Not really," Hammond admitted. The code-names had been his idea, but most of the field agents had rejected them as unwieldy, preferring to be referred to by their classification. In the field, additional numbers would be added by rank to the classifications if more than one agent were present with the same class and ability.

"Rowan had liked her code-name though, hadn't she?" Pryce glanced at Hammond, who had colored faintly. The younger man carried a torch for the girl, despite the nearly ten year age difference between them.

"I believe she did, yes," Hammond said. He fell silent, lost in his own thoughts, while Pryce smiled secretly at his own reflection in the glass.

"I wish Meghan weren't going to be in the field," Pryce suddenly said.

"We talked about this, sir. She needs field experience before she can teach."

"I don't disagree. I just think there might be a better way."

"Not if you want her to teach sometime this decade," Hammond sighed.

Pryce said nothing, but instead gazed out the window in contemplative silence. Finally, he spoke: "How many Alphas did we start the year with?"

"Eight, sir."

"How many survived graduation?"

"Five, sir."

Pryce allowed himself a sad smile. "A good year, then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 5, 2017

Matt strained, concentrating on controlling his abilities as he clutched the side of the block of metal. Nothing. He scowled and gripped the block harder. It was huge, almost two feet to a side. It had taken a fork-lift to bring it into the gymnasium, much to the dismay of the coaches, who were afraid the floor would be scuffed. Matt strained harder, his face contorting with the effort.

"Someone get that man a laxative," Kevin stage-whispered to Robin. The pale-haired girl rolled her eyes, but several other students began giggling.

His concentration broken, Matt turned on Kevin. "What the hell is your problem, Reilly?"

"Calm yourself, Matthew," Professor Roth said. A tall, handsome man, with brilliant blue eyes and perfectly-coiffed blonde hair, the well-groomed professor had many female admirers, both among the student body and the faculty. A few of the girls sighed as he strode forward to where Matt was standing. "Just concentrate on what you're doing," he said.

Matt sighed and resumed gripping the block with his left hand. He squeezed harder, straining hard until he felt a surge rush through him. This was it! Ignoring the few gasps from the students sitting in the gym bleachers, he aimed his right hand at the target across the gymnasium.

The heavy block crumpled and collapsed up into his left hand, exiting his right as a high-speed spray of metal splinters. The target on the wall dissolved under the onslaught. Only the fact that the wall was made of a denser material than the block of metal saved it from destruction as well. Finally, the burst tapered off as the block of metal was completely consumed and expelled.

Panting, Matt collapsed to his knees. He hadn't gone through that much metal since the day he had manifested. Professor Roth clapped slowly, smiling. "Very, very good Matthew," he said. A few other students applauded politely, but Matt ignored them, still in shock.

Professor Roth helped him to his feet, then walked with him over to the bleachers, where he sat down. Turning to the class, Roth smiled winningly. "So, who's next?" he asked. Several of the girls raised their hands, and Roth gestured to one.

Amy walked out onto the gym floor with Roth. The professor whispered something to her, then stepped back. Amy closed her eyes and took a step. Nothing happened. Her face screwed up in frustration, and she took another step. Again, nothing happened. Taking a deep breath, she took a third step.

And vanished, appearing on the other side of the gymnasium a split-second later.

"Excellent," Roth said, giving the girl the same slow applause he had given Matt. Amy's face lit up with pride, and she stepped toward Roth, appearing next to him in a moment. The professor raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling as he gestured for Amy to take her seat.

Amy skipped up to the bleachers and sat down next to Liz, who giggled and whispered in her friend's ear. Amy blushed, but her eyes didn't leave Roth's face.

"Anyone else?" Roth asked, his smile growing as several more hands shot up in response.

=========================================

 

[Gendou]

CHAPTER TEN
Love and War
07 October 2005

July 3, 1978

"I hadn't realized they were this far along," Pryce said, shaking his head.

Mark Coleman handed another set of photographs to Pryce. "And as you can see, they've actually acquired an Alpha-grade Telekinetic."

"Damn."

"Obviously they can't match our level of funding or resources, sir, but they have a much tighter control over the flow of information in and out of their facilities." Coleman thumbed through a stack of papers, eventually retrieving one and passing it to his superior. "We've been quietly funneling funds into an opposition group, but haven't had much luck."

"Have you informed the President?"

"Director Drake is meeting with him later today."

"This is very bad, Mark." Pryce shook his head and looked out the window to where the recently-completed habitats sat. Just beyond them, he could see the dormitory complex under construction.

Much of the Moebius campus rested underground to avoid prying eyes, with just enough above ground to allay suspicions from the locals. A number of the researchers were moving their families into the habitats, and when the dorms were finished, the Academy students would be move there from their temporary housing at nearby Eglin Air Force Base.

"I agree, sir. That's why I feel we need to begin moving some of the more aggressive students into combat training."

"Just because the Soviets are utilizing twelve-year-olds as assassins doesn't mean we have to, Mark." Pryce shook his head sadly. "We're supposed to be the good guys."

"This is about more than just personal morality, sir," Coleman said, his tone soft.

"These are children, for God's sake," Pryce hissed.

"These children are the new weapons of mass destruction, sir. We don't need nuclear deterrents - we need Aberrant deterrents."

"And if we sacrifice our children to buy freedom, who will inherit what we've gained?" Pryce asked, turning to his aide.

"The children who weren't sacrificed," Coleman replied without hesitation.

"It's a damned heavy price to pay."

"Which is why we must be sure the sacrifice is not in vain, sir." Coleman's tone was pleading now.

Pryce was silent for a long while. Finally, he stepped out from behind his desk. "I'm going to the temporary housing," he said.

"Sir?"

"I need to see them, Mark. I need to see them so I don't forget the cost."

Coleman nodded and opened the door for his boss. "I'll drive, sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 5, 2017

"Do you think we'll ever meet Aberrants from any of the other programs?" Kevin asked before biting into his burrito.

Robin hesitated, her fork halfway to her mouth. "I don't know. It would depend on which program, I suppose."

"I'd like to meet some of the kids from the Defenseur Brigade," Michael added as he sat down across from Kevin.

"I'll bet the French chicks are hot," Kevin said, grinning lecherously. Robin made a face, while Michael laughed.

Kevin suddenly yelped as Matt appeared at his elbow and slugged him in the arm. "That's for training class, dumb-a**," he growled, dropping into the seat next to his friend.

Kevin rubbed his arm, a hurt expression on his face. "Hey, Amy laughed, didn't she?" he asked.

"I want to make her laugh because I'm funny, not funny-looking," Matt said, spearing a pickle with his fork.

"I can't help it if you give me good material," Kevin shrugged, ducking away as Matt attempted to smack the back of his head.

"So you're still going to ask her to the Fall dance?" Michael asked.

"I'm thinking about it," Matt said, his ears coloring red.

"Do it," Robin said. "One of us should go, anyway."

"Hey, I'm going!" Kevin said, talking around his burrito.

Robin winced in mild disgust. "Right. Who are you asking?"

"Rene!" Kevin said, taking another bite. He didn't look up as Michael choked on his tea.

"Are you quite sane?" Robin asked. "Do you not recall what she did to Jacob when he asked her out last semester?"

"I think I'd look good bald," Kevin said, grinning.

"You're insane," Michael said, shaking his head.

"I prefer to think of it as an adventurous spirit," Kevin laughed.

"Insanity," Michael said, but he joined his friend in laughter.

. . . . .

"What do you think they're laughing about?" Weston asked.

"Don't know. Don't care," Rene said. She bounced the tennis ball against the cafeteria wall, catching it as it changed into a baseball, then tossed it again as it became a squash ball, then reverted back into a tennis ball as it bounced back towards her.

"You're getting better at that," Weston mused.

"It's still a useless ability," she groused, closing her eyes and sighing as she caught the ping-pong ball in midair.

"I don't think so."

"Trust me," she said, tossing the super-ball at the wall. It impacted with a wet smack.

Weston glanced over at the floor where it lay. "You have thing for fish, don't you?" he asked.

"I do not," Rene snapped, picking up the trout and tossing it into a nearby garbage can.

"You so do," Weston said. "Remember last year? When that girl on your floor pissed you off?"

"That was an accident," she scowled.

"So what? Turning the socks under her bed into dead fish was pure genius. I don't think that room will ever smell the same."

"Since when do you know what the girls' dorms smell like?" Rene asked, her tone skeptical. Weston remained silent, studiously poking his spoon into the jello on his plate. Rene's scowl grew into a predatory smile. "Weston, you dog," she laughed.

"It's not what you think-" he began.

"It so is," Rene said, still laughing.

"Yeah, well, maybe," Weston said, chuckling nervously.

. . . . .

"What do you think they're laughing about?" Amy asked, nudging Liz.

"I didn't know she could laugh," Cal said, smirking.

"Be nice, Calvin," Liz said, but she was smiling too.

"She probably turned someone into a toad or something," muttered Jacob Javitz.

"Aw," Amy laughed as she patted his dark hair, "but it all grew back."

"All I did was ask her out," Jacob said. Cal shrugged. They had all heard the story before.

"I still think it was an accident," Liz said.

"I still think she's an evil bi-" Jacob began, then broke off at a warning look from Cal.

"It doesn't matter," Amy said, her tone bright. "What I want to know is who is going with who to the fall dance." She glanced around the cafeteria, as if she could see lines connecting various partners to one another.

"Why don't you ask Amy, Jacob?" Cal asked, an evil twinkle in his eye.

"Why don't you shut up, Cal?" Jacob hissed, glancing nervously at Amy. Amy didn't seem to have heard, however. She and Liz were too busy matching up couples from among their classmates.

"Seriously, we could make it a double date," Cal said.

"Well," Jacob glanced at the blonde girl, examining her critically, "maybe."

"Please," Cal said, rolling his eyes. "You can't do better than Amy. She's already way out of your league."

Jacob opened his mouth to reply, but just then Amy turned and looked at Cal. "Who's out of his league?" she asked.

"This girl he likes," Cal said, grinning evilly.

"Oooh, who?" Amy asked, clasping her hands together, her blue eyes moving from one boy to the other.

"Yes, who?" Liz asked. Her own dark eyes made it clear that she already had her suspicions, and Cal's wicked smile only confirmed them.

"Ah, I've got to go," Jacob said nervously, gathering his trash. Cal winked at him as he got up and left. After he had gone, Liz shot a look at Cal and began giggling nervously. Cal just laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Amy asked. No one answered her, but it didn't stop her from joining in.

. . . . .

In a darkened corner, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the shadows. Like two glowing coals, they moved back and forth, watching everything that was happening.

"I wonder what they're all laughing about?" Gendou wondered as he retreated further into the darkness, finally vanishing altogether.

=========================================

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Intelligence Quotient
08 October 2005

April 23, 2008

"Did they both report in?"

"Yes sir. Firebrand and Doll are safe." Hammond sighed as he set the papers on table at the center of the room.

"Thank God." Pryce was still pale, and everyone in the war-room was still shaken.

"It was touch-and-go for a while," Hammond said softly.

"We should have known, James."

"We had no possible way of knowing that the Chinese would post six of their Aberrants at the facility instead of the usual two. Not when everything we had said otherwise."

"This isn't the first time our intelligence has been wrong."

"No sir," Hammond admitted.

"We have a painful reliance on outside sources of information," Pryce said, crossing his hands behind his back and pacing slowly.

"This time it almost cost us Meghan and Rowan," Alexander Roth muttered.

"We've tried to establish our own intelligence branch," Laura Clark noted, shaking her head. "But bringing in agents from other agencies has proven to be a bad idea."

"We've been an essentially autonomous agency for almost half a century," Pryce snapped, pausing in his stride long enough to give the younger woman a withering stare. "We can't keep depending on the CIA and MI6 for our intelligence." An uncomfortable silence fell over the four for a time as Pryce resumed his pacing.

"Give us six months," Hammond said suddenly. "We'll develop in-house, from scratch." He glanced at Roth and Clark, who both nodded in silent agreement.

Pryce stopped pacing and rounded on Hammond. "No outside recruiting?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"It could work," Roth said from where he leaned against the doorframe. "We'd need complete freedom to pursue the matter internally, of course."

"Take who you need," Pryce said, waving his hand dismissively. "If you three can put together an intelligence directorate, it will be worth it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 6, 2017

"You don't find it even the slightest bit strange that the Director of Aberrant Intelligence is teaching a high-school class?" Alexander asked, grinning at Laura.

"You know Pryce's number one rule: Everyone Teaches." Laura said, adjusting her glasses.

"Except Pryce himself, of course," Alexander reminded her.

"Of course," she agreed, allowing herself a slight smile. Alexander glanced over at her. In spite of the sharply-cut dress-suit she was wearing and having her dark hair up in a tight bun, she was a remarkably attractive woman. "What?" she asked, catching him staring.

"Oh, nothing," Alexander said, winking. Laura blushed and increased her pace. Alexander was an incurable flirt, and she knew he meant nothing by his glances. Even so, she couldn't help but wonder...

She was relieved to see Rowan and Meghan coming down the hallway from the other direction. She started to wave to them, but Alexander was at her side and already waving to the pair. On anyone else, his bright red suit would have seemed clownish, but he made it seem fashionable.

"First day?" Laura asked as she approached the other two women.

"I was teaching on Monday," Meghan said. "It's Rowan's first day, though."

"You're teaching infiltration tactics?" Laura asked, turning to Rowan.

"So they tell me." She paused as she took in the twinkle in Laura's eye. "And no recruiting from my students until they graduate, damn it." Laura smiled, but said nothing.

"You know, we need to sit down and discuss the student crop this year," Alexander said. "Several of them have remarkable potential."

"Think it could be another 1996?" Meghan asked. 1996 has been the best year the Academy had had in recent memory. Pryce always commented on how almost fifteen Alphas had graduated that year. Several of them still worked for the Project.

"I don't know about that," Alexander said, "But there's definitely potential there."

"How about tonight?" Rowan asked, looking at the others.

"It's good for me," Alexander said immediately. Laura nodded, and so did Meghan. "It's settled, then!" he laughed. Whistling, he headed down the hall, his walk almost a strut.

"Should we invite James so Alex isn't the only guy there?" Meghan asked. The other women nodded quickly in agreement. Alex's flirtatious nature could become downright predatory once he had a few drinks in him, and even Rowan found herself vulnerable to his charms. Hopefully Hammond would be able to rein him in somewhat.

"I'll see you both tonight, then," Laura said. With a wave, she headed down the hall toward her classroom.

. . . . .

"So what Stowe did for slavery with Uncle Tom's Cabin,, Arvin Schumacher did for Aberrants with By The Sword," Cal said, completing the oral report assigned to the students at the end of the last semester.

"Very good, Cal," Laura replied, smiling politely. Schumacher's description of a world where Aberrants were the victims of a conspiracy by the world governments to use them against one another in order to kill them off was a classic propaganda piece used by the Aberrant-Superiority movement. She was less surprised by Cal's choice of material than by his rather unimaginative conclusions about it. She knew the boy could do better. "Who's next?"

Just as Liz raised her hand, however, the bell rang. The students began gathering their materials and packing them into their backpacks or book-bags.

"I want to see your written reports on my desk before you leave," she said, tapping a stack of papers with her finger. A few students rolled their eyes, but most simply nodded and dropped the required work where she indicated. One by one, they all filed out the door, leaving her alone in the empty room.

Looking up at the clock, she realized that most of the students would be headed for Alex's Ability Training class. With her next period free, now would be a good time to go and observe some of her students in action.

Picking up her book-bag from beside her desk, she turned off the lights closed the classroom door behind her before heading down the hall toward the gymnasium. She had only gotten to hear second-hand reports about the abilities of this year's students, so she was eager to find out how much was fact and how much was rumor.

Entering the gym, she sat down at the end of the bleachers where most of the students were gathered. A few of the girls smiled and waved to her, but most were too busy watching the boy hovering in the middle of the gym. Holding her book-bag tightly in her lap, she turned her attention to him as well.

"That's it," Alex said, nodding his approval. "No need for a whirlwind here. Just allow it to carry you."

"I'm going to fall," Weston said, eyes wide as he floated twenty feet above the gym floor.

"Nonsense," Alex replied. "You're holding yourself up." He walked under the boy. "None of that whirlwind nonsense either, so you can move quietly."

"I don't-" Weston swallowed hard as he dropped a few feet without warning. Catching himself, he floated back up. "I don't see the point."

"The point is very simple, Weston," Alex said, looking at the boy. "If you are on a team, rather than by yourself, moving about by stirring up the air into a violent frenzy isn't conducive to working with others."

"Oh," Weston said.

"Yes, 'oh,'" Alex replied, a smile playing on his lips. "Now come down. Slowly."

Weston began to descend toward the floor, moving slowly, but accelerating slightly as he neared the ground. His knees bent with the impact, but Alex still smiled and clapped approvingly.

"Excellent," he said, clapping the boy on the back. Weston flushed slightly and hurried back to his seat at the top of the bleachers. Rene leaned forward and whispered something to him. He shook his head violently, but didn't look up. Alex gestured to one of the students, Liz Brauer. "Your turn."

Liz smiled and walked out onto the floor. There was a sound like a soft breeze, and Liz was gone, leaving behind a pile of clothes. Laura leaned forward, eyes wide. Suddenly, a small black kitten pawed it's way out of the pile.

"Excellent as always, Miss Brauer," Alex said. Turning to the other students, he nodded to one. "Miss Plum, if you please?" The kitten was already scampering toward the girls' locker room. Amy stepped down to the floor and picked up Liz's clothing. Suddenly, she disappeared, appearing across the floor near the locker room. "Showoff," Alex muttered, but his expression was pleased.

Laura shook her head in amazement as Liz and Amy came out of the locker room together. They sat down with Cal and Jacob. Cal grinned and whispered something to Liz, who turned bright red.

"Now then, Miss Larson?" Alex called. A slight, pretty girl stood up. Laura knew who she was, of course, but she couldn't seem to remember anything about her. She found herself wondering if the girl was even in her class.

Laura's mind drifted as she remembered that she needed to stop by the commissary on the way back to her apartment. Suddenly, she looked down. Her book-bag was gone. She looked about, then looked toward Alex. He was smiling at her. Turning to the students, she noticed they were all looking at her as well.

"Missing something?" Alex asked. Suddenly, Laura noticed the girl standing next to him, holding her book-bag. She gasped. She hadn't even realized the girl was there, yet she had to have been the entire time.

"That was..." Laura trailed off.

"Whiteout," Alex said, smiling that smug, all-knowing smile of his.

"Amazing," Laura muttered.

"Isn't it?" He took the bag from the girl and walked over to Laura. She snatched it from him and clutched it in her lap. Not that it did any good before. He cocked his head and gazed at her. "Care to make me pay?" he asked.

"What?" Laura asked, looking up at him in surprise.

"We could put on a little demonstration. Like in the old days."

"I don't think..."

"I understand if you're hesitant. You've been behind a desk for so long now." He was goading her, and she knew it. Even so, she couldn't resist.

"You're on," Laura said, setting her book-bag aside and standing up. The students were cheering now. Seeing two teachers spar was a rare treat, especially this early in the semester. Standing up, Laura stretched, then took off her glasses and set them down on her bag. Alex grinned and walked out onto the gym floor.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Any time," she said.

But he was already coming at her.

=========================================

CHAPTER TWELVE
Sweat and Tears
09 October 2005

August 8, 1985

"With the number of incidents with foreign Aberrants increasing, I really think this is the only way." Coleman said, handing his recommendation report to Pryce.

"Madness," Pryce said, tossing the unread sheaf of papers onto his desk.

"Sir..." Coleman began.

"I will not play my students against one another like gladiators in a coliseum," Pryce growled.

"Sir, so far the students have only trained against traditional forces. With more countries fielding Aberrant forces, we need to take measures to make sure our agents are not left unprepared in the field." Coleman removed his glasses and cleaned them on his sleeve. At the age of thirty-three, he was the third man to hold the position of assistant director of the Moebius Project. And he was determined to his job to the best of his abilities. Sometimes that meant giving your immortal superior news he did not want to hear.

"The risks are too high, Mark."

"Sir, this is no different than the sparring that children do every day in martial-arts classes around the world."

"Except that in those classes, the worst that can happen is a misplaced kick may break a bone." Pryce turned and stared at his aide. "If one of our students makes a mistake, people can die."

"We will take every precaution to make sure nothing like that happens, sir."

"I want you to oversee the class personally."

"Then we have your approval to move ahead?"

"I don't see that it makes much difference. Do what needs to be done." Pryce turned back to the window, signaling the end of the discussion.

"Yes sir," Coleman whispered, backing quietly out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 6, 2017

Laura stepped back and raised her hands. A shockwave rippled out, slamming into Alex and throwing him to the ground with a crack. Pushing himself to his feet, he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and winked at her.

Raising his hand, he gestured casually. The empty bleachers on the other side of the gym ripped themselves from their mounting bolts and flew through the air toward her.

Laura extended her arms and pushed. The bleachers twisted slightly and halted in mid-air between the two teachers. Closing her fist on empty air, she watched the bleachers crumple into a ball of twisted aluminum and steel. Wrenching her hand, she spun it back towards Alex. She knew his abilities as well as she knew her own - knew he could cushion most impacts. She couldn't do him any real harm. But it was certainly fun to try.

Still smiling, the blonde man floated up above the floor, twisting to avoid the hurtling ball of metal. It slammed into the far wall and dropped to the ground with a heavy clang.

"Don't make this too easy," Alex taunted as he floated toward her, body stiffly upright, arms crossed like some demonic red djinn. Another gesture, and Laura found herself flying backwards as if slapped by a gigantic hand. "And never underestimate a telekinetic," Alex laughed.

She slammed into the ground and skidded to a halt just short of the wall. Smiling herself, she slapped her open palm onto the floor. The floor rippled outward toward Alex. When the shockwave reached him, he suddenly dropped out of the air and hit the ground with far more force than seemed natural for someone of his size.

"Who is underestimating whom?" she asked, floating into the air. Control of gravity was a difficult ability to master, but could be frighteningly effective when used properly. Sparring with Alex was more fun than she had remembered.

Alex stood somewhat shakily and glared across at her. As she watched him extend his hand toward her, Laura suddenly found she couldn't breathe. Desperately, she clawed at him from a distance. He flew into the air, then slammed into the ground - hard. She felt the grip on her throat tighten. Once more, she reduced the gravity around him, then increased it instantly. He slammed into the ground again. Her vision grew dim at the corners. Lifting him up once more, she prepared to slam him into the ground again. If she could knock him unconscious, she might have a chance.

And then she could breath again. Alex dropped slowly to the ground, and Laura found herself slowly falling, unable to make herself rise. She felt a moment of panic as she realized she no longer had control of her Aberrant abilities.

"Enough!" a voiced roared. Laura turned to see James Hammond standing in the doorway, eyes blazing white-hot with stolen power. He had drained both herself and Alex. "This class is over," he announced. As the students began to gather their things, he strode over to where Laura stood. "I want to see both of you in my office. Now."

. . . . .

"I should fire you both on the spot. What the hell were you thinking?" Laura winced as Hammond slapped his open palms on his desk with a reverberating smack.

"We were trying to give a sparring demonstration to the students," Alex said, rubbing the back of his head. They had come directly to Hammond's office, stopping only by the infirmary long enough for Dr. Zendrake to patch up their few open wounds.

"Which brings me back to 'what the hell were you thinking?'" Hammond growled. "You know the rules - all sparring matches are to be supervised by no fewer than two teachers."

"We are teachers," Alex muttered.

"You were participants. You know damned well you can't supervise your own match!" He shook his head angrily. "And that was no sparring match, damn you! Sparring matches do not cause thousands of dollars worth of damage to the gymnasium and nearly cripple two of my best teachers! If I hadn't stepped in when I did..."

"James..." Laura began.

"And you!" he said, rounding on Laura. "I expect this from him, but you should know better!" He sat back in his high-backed chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"I'm sorry, James," Laura said. Alex nodded in agreement, suddenly cowed by his former teacher's sudden change from anger to disappointment. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Look, I don't want to take this to Pryce," Hammond finally said. Laura said nothing, only glancing at Alex and wondering if her face were as pale as his own. "If you two pay for the damages out of your own pockets, and promise me that nothing like this will ever happen again, I won't write up an action report."

"Thank you, James," Alex murmured gratefully.

"And I fully expect both of you to be in that gymnasium every Saturday, helping with the repairs until they meet Coach's approval."

"Yes sir," Laura said, swallowing hard. He had been remarkably lenient with them, considering the nature and degree of their infraction. He could have easily suspended them both - or worse.

"We'll see you tonight?" Alex asked as he walked to the door. Laura stood and joined him.

Hammond waved dismissively. "Maybe. We'll see." He picked up some paperwork and began shuffling through it. Shrugging, Alex left the office and headed down the hallway. Laura started to follow, but turned back to where Hammond sat at his desk, signing some papers.

"I really am sorry, James," she said. Hammond didn't look up from his work. Sighing sadly, Laura stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

=========================================

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Class Action
12 October 2005

July 15, 2010

"I don't think this is going to work," Alex hissed into the headset.

"It will. Just trust me," Laura's voice crackled in his ear.

"We haven't heard from Ro- from Armor Alpha for almost six minutes. She was supposed to report in by now," he whispered.

A huge explosion from inside the complex cut off any response Laura might have had. Alex turned to Meghan and saw his own horror reflected in her expression. "Come on," she urged, and began sliding down the hill toward the parking lot. A huge gout of flame exploded from the roof of the facility, silhouetting her for a brief moment before she disappeared into the brush.

"Damn it," Alex muttered, and began sliding down after her, wishing he could just float over the tree roots that kept snagging his pants. He caught up to her near the entrance to the facility. Shouts were coming from inside, along with the occasional gunshot. The few people exiting the complex paid no attention to the two Aberrants.

"If she's hurt, I'll kill her," Meghan growled. Alex flinched as a huge explosion caused the door in front of them to fly off the hinges, until he realized it was flying away from them, and that the explosion originated with Meghan. Hands still flaming, she stalked inside.

"Damn it," he muttered again, and followed after. The inside of the complex was a mass of flames and rubble. Looking around, he found Meghan climbing through the ruins of a small office.

"Give me a hand," she panted. Alex shrugged and pushed. The rear wall collapsed, revealing the factory floor. Gunfire echoed from the other end of the massive, empty space.

"What the hell?" Alex asked, looking at the shattered fluid suspension tanks along the opposite wall. Meghan ignored him and ran toward the sounds of fighting. Sighing, Alex followed, floating into the air and moving slowly over the wreckage. The air in front of him rippled as a few stray bullets ricocheted off of his telekinetic shield.

"Rowan!" Meghan shouted at her friend's back. Slowly, Rowan turned toward them. She was a fright, a wild-eyed, blood-streaked mess, her hair matted and her uniform torn. In her hands, she held the pulped remains of two soldiers.

Ignoring the weapons fire from behind her, she waved her hand at the tanks along the wall. "They're experimenting on Aberrants," she hissed. Meghan blinked and looked at the tanks, seeing them for the first time. Alex closed his eyes, realizing that Pryce's worst-case scenario had come true.

And then he heard the screams. Opening his eyes, he saw Meghan amidst the squad of soldiers Rowan had been fighting. One of the men was staring in horror at the charred stumps where his arms used to be, while another squealed in agony as he tried to extinguish the flames consuming his face. The few rounds the soldiers managed to fire at her were consumed by the intense heat surrounding her as she moved toward them. The last few screams were cut off as the men and women were incinerated.

"As if we didn't have an international incident already..." Alex muttered to himself. Rowan shot him a look, but said nothing. Her pale, porcelain-like skin was streaked with blood, none of it her own. She walked over to the far wall and began to methodically destroy the canisters, killing whatever genetic abominations were sleeping inside the fluid-filled tanks. Meghan joined her, and after a moment, all of the canisters were shattered and the things inside gasping their last breaths.

"We can go now," Rowan said.

"Not quite," Alex replied. Floating up to a catwalk above their heads, he headed across to the second floor of the offices inside the complex.

"Did you find it?" Laura asked in his ear. He winced and continued on until he got to an office that was nicer than the other. He floated inside.

"Not yet."

"Do they suspect?"

"I doubt it," Alex replied.

"You're probably right. I'm not sure they would have let you live if they knew."

"They'd come for you next," Alex growled, not liking the teasing tone in her voice. He tore away wood paneling on the walls until he found the safe. Another tug, and the door to the safe was ripped away as well.

"Is it there?"

"It's here," Alex said. The folders inside the safe floated up to his outstretched hand.

"Pryce will be pleased," Laura said.

"He'd better be. I don't like keeping this from them." He flipped through the folder.

"You saw how they reacted to this project, and this was just the Germans," she replied calmly. "Imagine how they would feel if they knew the Germans simply stole it from us."

"Not something I'd like to think about," Alex said. Carefully, he tucked the Project Blue documents inside his oversized red leather long-coat.

"Nor I," Laura replied. Alex didn't respond. He just floated out the door, intent on rejoining his friends before he had to face more questions he didn't have answers for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 6, 2017

"Holy crap, did you see that?" Kevin asked, eyes wide.

"Absolutely astonishing," Robin said, shaking her head as they walked into the classroom. She took her usual seat at the front, and Kevin sat down beside her.

"It was like something out of legend," Michael replied, easing into a window seat.

"I wonder what would have happened if Amy hadn't gone for Assistant Director Hammond?" Matt asked, sitting behind Michael.

"They would have killed each other," Kevin said, grinning over his shoulder at his friends.

Matt rolled his eyes. "No way. Roth totally would have taken her."

"Maybe," Michael said. "But if Ms. Clark hadn't been holding back..."

"It sure didn't look like she was holding back to me," Matt shot back.

Kevin started to say something, then stopped when Rene and Weston came into the room. The pair sat down in their usual seats in the back near the door.

"I should have been taking bets," Rene growled.

"And if Hammond had caught you?" Weston asked, pointedly ignoring the conversation that had been occurring when they walked in.

"I'd take some of that action," Kevin said, waggling his eyebrows at Rene. The blue-haired girl scowled and turned to Weston.

"See, some people aren't afraid of that stuffed shirt," she said.

"Do people even say 'stuffed shirt' anymore?" Weston asked, smirking.

"You know, I... just... shut up!" Rene snapped. She glared at Weston, who turned his attention to the door, where Cal and his small cadre were just entering the room.

"Did you see that?" Jacob asked no-one in particular.

"Mind-blowing!" Kevin said. Jacob sat down in the middle of the room, while Amy and Liz sat in the front, with Cal just behind them.

"I'm telling you, if Hammond hadn't come in, Ms. Clark would have won," Jacob said.

"No way," Cal scoffed.

"That's what I said!" Matt agreed.

Michael started to say something, but quieted down when Ms. Mitsumi walked into the room.

"Okay," she said, without waiting for silence, "Everyone who is taking Infiltration Tactics, head to Room 304 now." Weston, Rene, Kevin, Robin and Michael stood up and began gathering their things. "Everyone else will stay here for study hall."

"Is Ms. Clark okay?" Liz asked.

"Both she and Mr. Roth are fine," Meghan said. "Ms. Clarke asked me to take her study hall today, however, since I had a free period." Her tone made it clear that she would answer no further questions on the subject.

The Infiltration Tactics students headed from the room, singly and in pairs. Meghan sincerely hoped Rowan didn't have any trouble with her first class.

. . . . .

Jillian walked in and sat down in the back of the room. This would be her first class here at the Academy, and she wasn't sure how she was going to deal with the problem of class participation. She sank lower in her seat, hoping no-one would notice her. Of course, she was the first one in the room.

Next in was a tall boy with sandy hair and a scruffy goatee, followed by an angry-looking girl with bright blue hair. They sat down in the back, near the door. The girl shot Jillian a glance, but they both left her alone.

The door opened again, and a boy with spiky black hair and dark blue eyes walked in. He dropped his book-bag near the front and sat down at one of the desks there. A few moments later, a stocky boy with short brown hair and a tall, thin girl with glasses and lavender hair came in and also sat down in the front. They chatted with the other boy who was there, but their voices were too low for Jillian to make out what they were saying.

Looking back toward the door, she saw a tall boy with wavy, dark-brown hair streaked with blonde highlights. He sat down in the middle of the classroom. Suddenly, he turned around and extended his hand. "Hi," he said, "I'm Michael." His smile was honest and friendly. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Jillian nodded nervously, then broke eye contact. The boy waited for a moment, then withdrew his had, his smile fading to a neutral expression. Without another word, he opened a text book and began reading. Jillian hoped he didn't hate her too much. She wished she could explain that it was for his own protection.

Then a tall woman with short black hair walked in, her eyes taking in the class as she did. Jillian knew this must be the teacher, Ms. Garry. Ms. Mitsumi had talked about her a lot when she was explaining the class to Jillian. Ms. Garry was writing something on a notepad she held in her hand. Finally, she looked up.

"We seem to be missing a couple of people," the teacher said. Jillian looked around, wondering who was missing. Suddenly, the shadows in the back corner near where she was sitting shifted, and a pair of red eyes appeared, glowing like hot coals floating in a murky grey liquid. Jillian almost screamed right then and there. "Oh good," Ms. Garry said, writing something else on the notepad. "So where's our last student?"

"I'm here," a voice came from the hall. A tall, muscular boy walked in, his wavy blonde hair and clear blue eyes arresting Jillian's attention almost immediately. The boy walked straight to the back of the room and sat down between Jillian and the shadow. As he did so, the bell rang.

"Mister Prentiss, I presume?" Ms. Garry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone calls me Ian," the boy said. His comment might have been sarcastic or disrespectful, except his tone was completely flat. A soft murmur ran through the classroom. Apparently the name was known to the other students, and not in a good way.

"Very well, Ian," Ms. Garry said, writing on her notepad. She looked up at the class, her eyes roaming from face to face. She paused extra long on Jillian's, then moved on. "I am Rowan Garry, and I will be teaching you Alpha-level Infiltration Tactics this semester."

Jillian sighed. She hoped this wasn't a mistake. Not that she had much choice, of course.

=========================================

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thinking Man's Game
13 October 2005

May 15, 2017

"It's pretty clear that we need to be teaching infiltration tactics as a course, and not just as a part of combat training." Roth said, looking across at Hammond.

"And what would you have me do, Alex? Everyone is already pulling triple duty in the classroom." Hammond snapped.

"So we just abandon our responsibility to the students?" Roth asked, his tone sarcastic.

"If you're implying that-" Hammond began, but Pryce cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Peace, gentlemen," he said, gazing out his window at the green lawns of the campus. A jet roared overhead, low, as it landed at the nearby airbase. Turning around, he looked at the two fuming men. "What is your recommendation, Alex?"

"I can teach the course," Roth said immediately.

"What do you think, James?"

"I think Alex is overworked as it is," Hammond rejoined, casting a sharp glance at the neatly-dressed Roth.

"I agree," Pryce said. Roth started to protest, but stopped when Pryce continued, "but I also agree that we need to teach infiltration as a separate subject."

"So who will teach it?" Hammond asked.

"I'm recalling Rowan Garry," Pryce said. His eyes flickered to Hammond briefly as the other man took in a deep breath. Even after all these years, he still cared about her.

"Rowan in the classroom?" Roth asked, eyes widening. "Are you sure?"

"Are you questioning my decision, Alex?" Pryce's tone was mild, but his words were steel.

"No, sir," Roth said, instantly respectful. Pryce nodded, then stood. He walked to his office door and opened it. Hammond and Roth glanced at each other, then stood to leave. As they were stepping out the door, Pryce followed them into the outer office, closing the door to the private office behind him.

"Are you going somewhere, sir?" Hammond asked. Pryce pulled a coat and hat from a rack near the hall door. Slipping into the coat, he suddenly seemed like a man from another time, the styles of both the hat and the coat nearly sixty years out of date.

"I'm going to visit Joseph," Pryce said softly. Roth looked confused, but Hammond nodded solemnly. Pryce didn't speak to either man as he stepped into the hall, leaving them alone with the secretary in the outer office.

A few moments passed in silence before Hammond followed, stepping into the hallway and then walking toward the elevator leading down to the Academy levels.

"Who is Joseph?" Roth asked, hurrying to catch up.

"His son," Hammond said, pushing the down button to summon the elevator.

"He has a son? How come we haven't met the kid?"

"Pryce likes to keep his personal life private," Hammond said as the elevator doors opened.

"So how come you know about him?" Roth asked.

"Because I was with him when he had to send Joseph away," Hammond replied, stepping inside.

"Away?" Roth asked, confused.

"Joseph is 72 now. Pryce was forced to put him in a nursing facility last year." Hammond smiled sadly at Roth's shocked expression as the elevator doors closed between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 6, 2017


"I'd like each of you to introduce yourselves, as well as your abilities. It will help us know where we stand as we begin this class," Rowan said. As she spoke, she shifted to her ceramic form, her skin becoming smooth, shiny and unnaturally pale as she did so. "I'm an Armor Alpha," she finished.

A few of the students appeared interested, but most seemed bored with her already. Not good. She suddenly found herself wishing for a flashy ability like Meghan's. Turning to her right, she gestured at the tall girl with the glasses. "You first," Rowan said.

The tall girl blinked a few times, then slowly stood up. "I'm, uh, Robin." She turned and waved shyly at the other students. "I'm a, um, Alchemy Beta." The scruffy boy in the back returned her wave, but no-one else seemed phased. Rowan wondered if she could get their attention by killing one of them. She had almost decided which one she would use as an example when a boy in the middle of the classroom stood up.

"Michael, Melee Alpha," he said, as Robin hurriedly sat down. He was solidly built, with dark, wavy hair streaked with blonde highlights. Unlike the girl, his attention was focused completely on Rowan. She nodded to him, and he sat down.

Gesturing to a boy in the front, she said, "Next?"

The stocky, dark-haired boy stood up and grinned. "I'm Kevin. Or Gaia Alpha. Whatever." He sat down again before Rowan could nod to him, so she moved on to the other boy in the front.

"Dave. I'm, uh..." he paused here, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Go on," Rowan said.

"I'mferalbeta," he said, hurriedly pronouncing his classification as one word. He turned red as a girl on the back row snickered. Eyes narrowed, Rowan gestured to the girl. She stood slowly, stretched, and then grinned at Rowan.

"Rene, Chaos Alpha," the girl said, her blue-dyed hair bobbing as she spoke. Rowan nodded, and the girl sat down.

The boy next to her stood up without prompting and said, "Weston." He paused for a moment, then said, "Aero Alpha." He sat down without further ado, so Rowan gestured to the girl on the other side of him.

Silence. The auburn-haired girl gazed at Rowan with wide, terrified eyes, but she said nothing. Sighing, Rowan looked at the rest of the class. "She's Jillian, Sonic Alpha. She doesn't speak." Turning her gaze back on the girl, she said, "I expect full participation, Miss Carver. Even if you have to get up here and write it out on the chalkboard in longhand." The girl nodded mutely, her eyes still wide.

Suddenly, Rowan found herself staring at girl in the center of the classroom. Everyone else was watching the girl as well, eyes drawn to her as if by magnets. The girl smiled shyly. "Sandra, Whiteout Beta," she said. The girl had clear sea-green eyes and short, honey-colored hair. Why hadn't Rowan noticed her before? She wished she could focus, but she couldn't take her eyes off the girl.

And then she could think again. Rowan turned away, remembering what she had read. The girl could focus attention on or away from herself at will. Looking back at the girl, she knew now why she had been so focused. The students seemed confused, but no-one said anything.

"Uhm, you," Rowan said, gesturing at the sandy-haired boy in the back. The boy stood. "Ian, Chrono Alpha." Again, a few shocked whispers from the students, but since the boy didn't seem to mind, Rowan decided to remain quiet. She nodded at Ian, and he sat down.

Turning to the darkened corner of the room next to Ian, Rowan gestured. The shadows slowly coalesced into something human in shape, then solidified into a figure, then a boy with a bowed head. He had long black hair, with long bangs that covered his face. A pair of glowing eyes opened behind the bangs as he looked up. "Gendou, Shadow Alpha," he said, his voice low, hoarse and sibilant. Rowan nodded, and the boy collapsed back into a shapeless shadow, his eyes burning as the watched her.

"I think that's everyone," Rowan said. Let's begin, shall we?

. . . . .

"You're at the front gate," Rowan said, leaning against her desk, facing the class. "How do you get past the guards?" A few hands were tentatively raised. She pointed at one. "Kevin?"

"I use my feminine wiles," he said, grinning. A few students laughed, but Rowan waved them to silence.

"Good. That might just work. But what if the guard is a sensory adept? Or worse, what if he's a telepath?"

"I, uh..." Kevin paused in confusion, "I would-"

"Too late," Rowan cut him off. "The telepath has alerted the sniper on the roof who has just put a bullet in your brain."

"Harsh," Dave muttered.

"What would you do, Mister Havel?" Rowan asked, turning to the boy.

"Not go in the front door, for one," he said. Rowan nodded, so he continued. "I'd find a back way in, or scale the wall at a less heavily-guarded location."

"Good. What if you can't find a hole in the security?" She looked around the classroom, then focused on Weston's glowering expression. "Mister Sokol?"

"There are too many what-ifs in this scenario," Weston said. "We'd be dead a hundred times over without proper intelligence going in."

"Very astute," Rowan replied, smiling. "So assuming we know what we do - that the gate guard is a telepath and the walls are well-guarded on all sides, what would you do?"

"This isn't a job for one person," Weston admitted.

"No?"

"No. We would need several team members to do this. One to distract the guard, one to take the guard out and one to get inside undetected."

"And you don't think that can be done by one person?"

"No, I don't." The boy was adamant.

"And yet that was exactly my job for many years," Rowan said. Weston raised an eyebrow. Rowan went on, "In the case we're discussing, I distracted the guard with my 'feminine wiles' and disabled him, then I took his uniform and key-card and made my way inside."

"I thought the guard was a telepath," Weston said, his tone skeptical.

"He wasn't thinking with his brain, boy," Rowan grinned. A few of the students giggled nervously.

"So why wouldn't he fall for Kevin?" The boy was damnably persistent.

"Because Kevin isn't a woman, and the guard will pick up on that."

"Not necessarily," Weston said, eyes narrowing. Rowan sighed. And she had been worried that Kevin would be the class troublemaker.

"Look," she growled, "most telepaths can only read surface thoughts. If you can keep your mind off of the fact that you're a spy for more than a few seconds, you can fool the guard. But you can't do that while also trying to remember how to act like a woman as well. Unless Kevin intends to spend the next several years exclusively as a woman, I don't think he can pull it off."

"Yeah, I, uh, no," Kevin said, waving off the suggestion with both hands.

"Ah," was all Weston said. His eyes were moving back and forth as he processed what she had said. Troublemaker, perhaps - but also the best student she had.

"Look, if I'm approaching the guard, I'm free to be thinking about the night I've had, how cute the guard is, that kind of thing. The guard brushes past my mind, sees those thoughts, and accepts them. With Kevin, the telepath might find stray traces that reveal that Kevin isn't a woman, like the amount of concentration he's spending trying to walk in heels."

"I see." Suddenly, Weston's thoughtful look changed into a smirk. "I'd put Kevin in flats."

"Clever," Rowan muttered flatly, but she was still impressed with how quickly he grasped the tactical elements of the concepts she was presenting. She was also pleased with the way he attempted to integrate team strengths into his plans. He might be a little too dependant on others to make a viable field agent, but he'd be an astonishing asset as a field lead.

. . . . .

"You like the teacher," Rene teased as they headed for the gymnasium for their last period training class.

"I like the class. And yeah, Ms. Garry is cool."

"You like the tea-cher," Rene laughed, her tone sing-song. Weston glared at her, but said nothing. He stepped into the gym and looked around for Mr. Roth, but the training instructor wasn't there. Rene pushed past him and headed for the top of the bleachers. Shrugging, Weston followed.

"Attention," a familiar voice called. Weston turned, eyes widening. "Professor Roth is unavailable, so I will be teaching this period." More students were filtering in, and taking seats, but all eyes were on the substitute.

"Oh crap," Rene muttered as she watched their new teacher walk toward them.

Hammond's eyes narrowed as he stepped towards the bleachers. The bell rang just as he stopped in front of them. "Shall we begin?" he asked, smiling thinly.

=========================================

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Deadman's Switch
15 October 2005

July 18, 2017

"So you finally found the leak?" Alex asked, leaning back in his chair.

"We did." Laura was shuffling through a stack of papers on her desk.

"Pryce was pleased?"

"Not particularly."

"Really?" Alex uncrossed his long legs and leaned forward, a smile forming on his lips.

"No. He said that if we had one leak, there were likely more."

"True. So who was it?" Alex's smile grew wider by a fraction.

There was a long pause as Laura pulled a folder from the stack of papers and began reading the contents. After several minutes, she set the documents aside with a sigh. "It was Jason Harris."

"What?" Eyes narrowing in confusion, Alex cocked his head to one side like a bird. "Are you serious?"

"Quite," Laura said. "Pryce was just as surprised as you are."

"Harris was one of the good guys. He had a conscience. I can't see him selling top secret documents to the Germans. Especially about Project Blue."

"We believe he was acting out of conscience, actually." Laura pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose as she looked up at Alex. "He accepted no payment for his treason. It's why it took us so long to track him down in the first place."

"Damn. So what is Pryce going to do? He can't very well have him arrested."

"No. Pryce said he would have the matter taken care of by the end of the week." Laura shook her head sadly.

Alex winced. "Oh." He curled his lip in disgust, but said nothing more as Laura signed a few more documents and dropped them into her outbox. Suddenly, she pulled a folder out of her desk and tossed it into Alex's lap. "What's this?" he asked.

"The reason I called this meeting," she said, not looking up. Alex waited a moment, but she didn't continue. Sighing, he opened the folder and flipped through the information. As he did so, his eyes grew wider.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Pryce says that the students coming next semester show remarkable promise."

"But starting Project Blue up again? It's been shut down since the end of the Cold War in the late eighties."

"I'm sure Pryce has his reasons."

"Is this why he has me teaching Abilities Familiarization next semester?"

"I can't say."

"Can't? Or won't?" Alex snapped. Laura looked up at him, her face expressionless.

"I would think you would be a bit more pleased?"

"By what? This?" Alex held up the folder and shook it angrily. "He wants me to be the director, damn it."

"I know. I recommended you."

"For God's sake, Laura, why?" he gasped.

"Because if Pryce is determined to start up Project Blue again, it would be better if it were being run by someone who actually gives a damn about the subjects."

"I don't know if I can do this," Alex whispered, sagging back into his chair.

"You can and you will," Laura said, adjusting her glasses as she began writing again.

He scowled. "How do you know?"

"Because you won't trust anyone else to do it." Silence fell between them, broken only by the scratch of a pen on paper and the occasional whisper of papers sliding against one another. Finally, Alex stood, and without another word, he left Laura's office.

Looking up at the door as it closed, Laura allowed herself a sad smile. After a moment, she returned to her work without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 6, 2017

Hammond stood and watched the students shift nervously in their seats. He was a handsome man, with light-brown hair running to grey at the temples, clear blue eyes, a square face with a cleft chin, and a muscular body with wide shoulders.

Slowly, his eyes roamed over the students, who were desperately trying to avoid his attention without seeming too obvious about it. Mostly this resulted in lots of furtive looks and nervous smiles in his direction.

"First, we are going to run through a few basic ability checks. Later, Ms. Garry will be joining us, and you will have an opportunity to engage in simple sparring exercises under our supervision." His eyes narrowed as he ran his gaze across the bleachers. "Class will run late, and as this is the last class of the day, no one will be excused." A mild groan rippled across the students.

Nodding, Hammond smiled, but the thin, tight-lipped expression failed to reach his eyes. Turning to a boy in the middle of the class, he gestured with his index and middle fingers. "Mister Prentiss?"

Ian slowly stood and walked toward the teacher. A soft murmur ran through the gathered students, until a sharp look from Hammond silenced them. The boy stepped onto the gym floor. Slowly, he turned to face the students.

"You may begin," Hammond said. Ian nodded once, then closed his eyes. He stood there for several seconds, head bowed, hands folded behind his back. Suddenly, his form blurred, and then there were two of him standing there. Hammond glanced down at his watch and smiled. The new Ian glanced at the teacher, shrugged, and headed back to his seat in the bleachers. The original walked over to Hammond. One Ian sat down, while the other peered over his teacher's shoulder at the watch. Suddenly, the one standing with Hammond disappeared.

"Thirteen seconds," Hammond said to the one in the bleachers.

"It never changes," the boy replied, coloring slightly.

"You did well," was all Hammond said.

"What was that?" a boy asked.

Hammond glanced over at him. "You had a question, Kevin?"

"What kind of ability was that?" Kevin asked.

"Ian has the ability to travel back in time exactly thirteen seconds," Hammond explained. "So for thirteen seconds after he does so, two Ians exist. Thirteen seconds after the second Ian appears, the first Ian disappears."

"Why?" Kevin looked confused.

"So he can travel back here and become that Ian," Hammond sighed, gesturing to the Ian in the bleachers.

"Wait, so he can time-travel?" Kevin queried.

"He can back-step thirteen seconds," Hammond confirmed.

"Cool," Kevin said, shooting Ian a thumbs up. Ian smiled wanly, but said nothing.

"Mister Javitz, why don't you be next?" Hammond asked, gesturing to Jacob. Jacob grinned and stood. Cal clapped him on the back as he walked toward Hammond. "Feeling good today?" the teacher asked.

"Always," Jacob said.

"Excellent. You may begin." Hammond stood back and crossed his arms expectantly.

Jacob instantly leapt into the air, fading into nearly invisible transparency as he did so. He floated about the room like a ghost, moving around and through objects with ease. Finally, he swooped low, slowly becoming more visible and opaque as he neared the floor. His feet touched the ground with soft thump, which caused him to frown slightly.

"You have excellent control, Jacob," Hammond said.

"I can usually land more quietly," Jacob responded.

I would prefer you phase in above the floor rather than below it," his teacher retorted.

"Yes sir," Jacob said, still frowning in contemplation. He walked slowly back to his seat, ignoring the happy chatter from Cal, Liz and Amy.

"Am I interrupting?" Rowan asked from the doorway. Hammond immediately turned his attention to her.

"Not at all. Your timing is perfect." His smile was genuine as he extended a welcoming hand to her.

"Good," she said, walking toward him. "Let's get started." Her smile was genuine as well, though it was far less friendly - and directed at the students.

=========================================

 

[Gendou]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Birds of a Feather
16 October 2005

November 20, 2013

"How did this happen?" Pryce turned away from his office window and stared at Roth and Hammond.

"It was an accident," Roth said, closing his eyes.

"I never thought he did it on purpose, Alex." Pryce sighed and turned back to the window. "What happened?"

"Ian and Raquel were down in one of the practice shacks, and-"

"Practice shacks?" Pryce's voice was flat.

"The, uh, soundproof booths on the level five. For the students taking instrument lessons to practice in so they don't disturb anyone else." Roth was flustered by the interruption.

"Ah."

"Anyway, they were down there, apparently, uhm, getting physical, and he was touching her when-"

"Why did he attempt to back-step?" Pryce asked.

"We don't know, sir," Hammond interjected, leaning forward in his seat. "The boy is in shock. Doctor Zendrake is with him now, but I don't know how much he can tell us."

"He'll have to be removed from the student body," Roth said. "Until we get a better grasp on what happened."

"Do what you think is best," Pryce said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. Roth nodded, then waited. When Pryce said nothing more, he quietly stood and left the room.

When they were alone, Pryce turned to Hammond. "How bad was it, James?"

"There was blood everywhere, sir."

"Was she in pain?"

"We don't know. They found the boy wandering the corridors of level five covered in blood. They followed the trail back to the practice shack and found what was left of the girl inside."

"Jesus." Pryce bowed his head, shaking it sadly.

"I don't know how this happened, sir. Ian knew that his ability has a catastrophic effect on other biological organisms. He knew."

"Did he do it on purpose?" Pryce asked, looking up at Hammond.

"No. No, I can't believe that, no sir." Hammond was adamant.

"You were his advisor."

"Yes sir. I know this boy. He couldn't do something like that. Besides, he loved Raquel."

"Did he just lose control of his abilities then?" Pryce sat down in his seat and steepled his fingers.

"I don't know, sir." Hammond rubbed his temples slowly. "That's why he needs to be isolated. So we can figure this out."

"I want you to handle this personally, James."

"I wouldn't want it any other way, sir."

"I know." Pryce nodded once, and Hammond rose quietly and left the room, closing the door behind him. Pryce sighed sadly and picked up the phone. He needed to call Raquel Levinson's family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 6, 2017

Standing beside Hammond, Rowan looked over the bleachers with a critical eye. "Who first?" she asked.

"Mister Levesque, I think," Hammond replied.

"Good. I choose..." she paused here, one eye narrowed as she scanned the students, "I choose Weston."

"Sokol?" Hammond didn't seem surprised. "Good choice." He gestured, and Michael and Weston began to make their way down from the bleachers.

Hammond took Michael aside. "Can you blunt your weapons?"

"Yes sir," Michael affirmed.

"Excellent." Hammond fished a pair of goggles from his coat pocket. "Wear these to protect your eyes." He glanced back to see Rowan handing a similar pair to Weston. "If you get in trouble, or you need a break, just announce that you want to yield. I'll step in."

"Yes sir," Michael replied.

"Go to it, then," Hammond said, clapping the boy on the shoulder. As Michael walked toward Weston, Hammond joined Rowan on the side of the gym where the bleachers had been so recently and forcibly removed. "Is Weston ready?"

"As ready as he'll ever be," Rowan said.

"Good." Looking toward the boys, Hammond raised his hand. Michael and Weston poised expectantly. "And go!" Hammond shouted, dropping his hand like a pole-axe.

The boys leapt at one another.

. . . . .

It was a close fight. Michael had engaged Weston at close range early on, his right hand forming a katana and his left becoming a rather large axe. Spinning left, he brought the katana low, attempting to sweep Weston off his feet. Except he was no longer there.

Michael had just looked up to see Weston floating into the air when the first whirlwind struck his body. He rolled right as the winds buffeted him and came up under his opponent, only to find Weston moving away at a fair clip.

A shockwave of air pounded Michael a moment later. Dodging towards the bleachers, he put the other students at his back, preventing Weston from using any of his more destructive abilities. Closing rapidly with his target, he heard a loud crack as Weston's fist flashed past his head. Rolling into the first blow, he avoided the follow-up strike, which created an equally loud crack as it passed him.

Vacuum punches. Weston was removing the air around his fist to allow his strikes to move faster. Michael was within ten feet of Weston now, and the other boy was backpedaling, trying to put distance between them.

And then Weston stumbled, his foot sliding on a piece of debris from the earlier match between Roth and Clark. Falling backwards, he managed to catch himself on an air bubble just before he hit the ground. Suddenly, Michael was kneeling on his opponent's chest, the axe and the katana scissored around Weston's throat.

"I yield," Weston said. Michael got up and extended his right hand to Weston. The katana was gone, and only the hand remained. Weston grabbed it and Michael pulled him to his feet.

"Good, both of you." Hammond said, walking over to join them.

"If Weston could have used his lightning, I would have been dead long before," Michael admitted.

"Weston's abilities are not a sledgehammer," Rowan said, joining them. "He has to learn how to disable as well as to kill. Precision counts. You aren't always in an operational theater where collateral damage doesn't matter."

"Mister Roth said something similar earlier today," Weston acknowledged.

"He would know," Hammond said, nodding. "He had similar difficulties learning to limit his abilities when he was your age."

"That was fun," Weston said, grinning at Michael.

"Yeah," Michael agreed, pulling off his goggles and handing them back to Hammond. Weston did the same, and the two boys walked back to the bleachers together, engaged in animated conversation.

"Who next?" Rowan asked.

"I have a few ideas," Hammond said, glancing at the bleachers. He gestured to Cal. "Mister Murdoch," he said.

Cal looked surprised. "Me?" he asked.

"Yes, Mister Murdoch," Hammond sighed. Cal stood up and walked over to where Hammond stood. Hammond examined the boy for a moment, then leaned forward. "Can you generate today?" he whispered.

"I think so," Cal said, his tone confident. "At least some."

"Do you feel up to sparring, then?" Hammond asked.

"I do," Cal said, glancing nervously back at the crowded bleachers. Hammond suddenly realized his error: the boy couldn't say no without losing face. Hammond cursed himself for not having approached the boy in a less public manner. Nothing to do for it now, though.

"Very good," Hammond replied, smiling encouragingly. He left the boy and walked over to Rowan. "We need to go easy on him."

Rowan nodded, instantly understanding. "How about Evan?" she whispered.

"No. His problem is control, not power. He could kill Cal."

"Meg?"

"Maybe, but she doesn't have an offensive ability."

Rowan scanned the group, then smiled. "Wyndi?"

Hammond smiled. "Perfect."

"Beta versus Beta, then."

. . . . .

Cal opened with a small blasts of water, moving at high velocity. They crashed into Wyndi's air shield and spattered. Ducking low, the boy approached at a run, dodging and weaving. He'd seen what an Aero could do, and even if Wyndi was a Beta, she wasn't to be underestimated.

"Stay still," Wyndi hissed. Tiny vortexes were forming around her and whirling off in all directions. A few of the students moved higher in the bleachers to avoid them, as she wasn't controlling them well. Cal dropped to one knee and slid through her air shield, catching her off-guard with the physical attack. She gasped as he tackled her, carrying her to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. She hadn't even had time to put up an air-bubble to cushion herself.

"Yield?" Cal asked, pinning her arms with his hands. Wyndi nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. Cal hurriedly stood up and offered his hand, but she just lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

"Unorthodox, Mister Murdoch," Hammond said as he came up behind the boy. He glanced down at Wyndi. "Are you hurt, Miss Vogel?" Wyndi shook her head, but made no move to get up. Meg Pasternak and Fred Yates came down from the bleachers. Meg helped Wyndi up, while Fred shot Cal a hate-filled look, her eyes blazing with fury.

"b*****d," she hissed, then turned and joined Meg in helping Wyndi back to the bleachers. A moment later, the goggles Wyndi had been wearing were hurtling toward Cal's head. Hammond reached out and snatched them from the air, still looking at Cal. Rowan shared a look with Hammond, then followed the girls.

"What?" Cal asked, removing his own goggles and looking at Hammond in confusion.

"That could have been handled better," his teacher replied.

"I thought I was supposed to get her to yield."

"You are, and you did. I can't say I expected you to only use your abilities as a distraction, however."

"That's about all they're good for," Cal grumbled.

"Practice. You're gaining more control every week, Calvin. You'll be an Alpha by next semester if you don't hit a roadblock." Hammond sighed. Many Betas found they couldn't advance past a certain level of control. He sincerely hoped Cal was not one of them. He was too important to the Movement for that to happen.

Rowan came back and joined them. "She'll be okay. She was just shaken up."

"What happened?" Hammond asked.

"Apparently she was assaulted by an anti-Aberrant activist the last time she visited her parents."

"Bigots," spat Cal, then sobered, glancing at the bleachers. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's not your fault," Rowan said hurriedly. "She didn't report it, and even if she had, I wouldn't have thought something like this would affect her so badly."

"Have her see the doctor when we're through. She may need counseling," Hammond said, watching the sobbing girl as her friends comforted her.

"I will," Rowan said. She glanced at the uneasy students. "I think they've had enough for today."

"I agree," Hammond said. He stepped toward the bleachers, folded behind his back in a military posture. "Class is dismissed," he said. He barely raised his voice, but it still rang through the large gymnasium. The students immediately began gathering their things. Cal handed his goggles to Hammond and hurried to catch up with Liz.

"You'll be at dinner tonight?" Rowan asked as she and Hammond watched the students filtering out of the gym.

"I think so," Hammond said.

"Good," Rowan smiled and squeezed Hammond's upper arm as she walked away. He felt a thrill run through his body. He watched her as she made her way to where Wyndi and her friends sat. Confident the matter was being taken care of, he turned and headed out the door opposite the one the students were using.

He had one other thing to take care of before dinner.

=========================================

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Of Dinner, Dancing and Fish
19 October 2005

October 8th, 2011

"Who called it in?" Pryce glanced over the dossier in front of him.

"Her parents, surprisingly enough," Kathy said, shaking her head sadly.

"Damn," Pryce replied, not looking up.

"I know." It was not a common occurrence for parents to call the hotline about their own children. Most calls came from neighbors, teachers, friends and other family members. Parents almost never turned in their own.

"How is she?"

"Sedated, for now. It took me a couple of tries, though."

"Really?"

"Really. Instead of a pair of syringes, I now have one left shoe and a rainbow trout."

"Trout?"

"She manifested during a temper-tantrum she was throwing because her father was leaving on a fishing trip. I expect it has something to do with that."

"If her subconscious controls her abilities, then perhaps she can learn to control it." Pryce's eyes glittered with anticipation.

"Possibly. But it's equally possible that her abilities are so difficult to control that she can't handle it any other way than subconsciously."

"That would be a shame," Pryce said. "Do we have any idea about how her abilities work?"

"None. She seems to be able to alter objects at a molecular level, though she can apparently alter the mass of an object as well. When she manifested, she turned her father's pick-up truck into a rather large pile of fish."

"Were they alive?"

"Quite dead, sir. We don't think she can create living organisms."

"So we know what she can do, but not how she can do it."

"Essentially," Kathy replied.

"You'll be looking after her?"

"As much as possible. Hammond has expressed an inter-"

"No, I want you to handle this one, Doctor."

"I see." Kathy was taken aback by the sharp tone in Pryce's voice.

"We'll bring on whatever extra staff you need, but I want you to personally oversee this girl's progress."

"As you wish," Kathy said, standing to leave.

"One more thing - have you classified her abilities yet?" Pryce looked up from where he sat at his desk.

"Yes sir. We've been calling her Chaos Alpha."

"I like that."

"I thought you would, sir." Kathy nodded once more and stepped into the outer office, closing the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 6th, 2017

"Man, I hope I get the chance to spar on Friday," Kevin said, punching the air as he and Robin walked to their lockers.

"I doubt that's something I have to worry about," Robin replied sourly.

"Aw, you can turn them into cola or something," laughed Kevin.

"It's not funny," Robin growled at the books in her arms. She glanced up as Rene and Weston walked by, then blushed when Weston looked back at her. Kevin looked at Weston, then at Robin, a confused look on his face.

Waiting until after Weston and Rene had turned the corner, he said, "Are you two-"

"No!" Robin gasped, her face coloring an even brighter scarlet.

"But you want to," Kevin said, his confused look becoming a wide smile. "You totally want to."

"I do not!" Robin whispered frantically.

"Are you going to ask him to the dance?"

"What?"

"Girls can ask boys, can't they?"

"Of course, but-"

"So are you going to ask him?" Kevin's face was eager.

"It's not like that!" Robin wailed softly.

"I'll go with you," Kevin said, grinning. "I can ask Rene at the same time."

"Kevin, no!"

"Aw, come on," Kevin urged.

"I don't want to ask him right now," Robin pleaded.

"But you do want to ask him?" He leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially.

"I... I don't know. Maybe?" She sighed and hugged her books tighter.

"Just do it!"

"I'll think about it."

. . . . .

"It's hard to get off site much these days," Meghan said, sipping her wine and looking around. The Beach Walk restaurant was one of the nicer places in the area, though you paid well for the atmosphere. Still, she was glad for an excuse to get off the base and get dressed up. Glancing at her reflection in the window, she was pleased with the way the dark-blue, floor-length, form-fitting, off-the-shoulder dress made her look.

"Isn't that the truth," Laura replied, shaking her head. Her long hair was down tonight, and the pale-green dress she wore was far more flattering to her figure than her usual suits.

"Is Alex usually this late?" Rowan asked, glancing at her watch. Her short hair was brushed back from her forehead, and her short black dress was cut just high enough to be modest.

"He says he's only fashionably late," Laura said, rubbing her temples. Meghan wondered briefly if Laura had seen the doctor about her contact prescription yet. She wore them so infrequently that her problems with them usually only cropped up when they were out like this, and that was only once every few months.

"He needs a woman to set him straight," Rowan muttered, glaring at Laura.

Laura stopped rubbing her temple and looked at Rowan in mild confusion. "Don't look at me. We're co-workers and friends, that's all."

"Right." Laughing softly, Rowan refilled her glass. Meghan was glad they had taken the shuttle into town from Eglin. She didn't want to have to worry about who was driving tonight. "Is James fashionably late too?" Rowan continued.

"No, he's usually early," Meghan replied. She glanced at Laura, but the other woman wouldn't meet her gaze.

"I hope nothing happened to him," Rowan said.

"I'm sure he's fine," Laura interjected, still not looking at Meghan. Meghan wondered if Laura's reluctance had anything to do with the rumors she had heard about Hammond shutting down Alex's class this afternoon.

She was about to ask when she saw James and Alex come in together. James looked mildly annoyed about something, but Alex just waved to the women and headed straight for the table. Pulling out a chair beside Laura, the blonde man sat down. He was, as always, perfectly attired. The dark-red suit coat and pants offset his similarly-colored tie and rose-tinted shirt.

James finished talking to the waitress and joined them. He glanced nervously at Rowan, but sat down next to her nonetheless. "I'm sorry we're late," he said.

"What happened?" Laura asked.

"Alex's car apparently broke down, so I had to come back and pick him up," Hammond growled. Meghan shot a glance at Alex. She knew he had two cars, though Hammond had no way of knowing that. Alex ignored her glance, innocently helping himself to a glass of wine.

"Did it?" Laura asked, giving Alex are far more intense stare than Meghan had bothered with. Alex didn't react even a little bit.

Hammond carefully unfolded his napkin and laid it in his lap before looking up.
"Yes, which was rather strange, as he could have simply driven the other one."

Alex choked on his wine. "How did you-"

"I make it a point to keep tabs on my people. Next time you want a ride, just ask." Hammond didn't even crack a smile as he spoke.

Meghan giggled behind her hand at the shocked expression on Alex's face.

"Classic," Rowan laughed, and Laura joined her. Soon Alex was grinning as well. Only Hammond remained soberly quiet, though Meghan thought she saw a twinkle in his eye.

"It's been a while since we've all been together," Hammond said, opening his menu.

"That would have been, what, North Korea in '11?" Alex asked.

"I think so," Laura replied, nodding.

"Six years," Rowan said, glancing at her friends. Everyone fell quiet as they mulled over their own memories.

Finally, Alex spoke. "At least we're together now," he said, raising his glass.

"Here here," Meghan said, touching her glass to the edge of his. Rowan and Laura joined them, and after a moment, Hammond lifted his ice-water.

"You're not drinking, James?" Rowan asked.

"Not anymore," Hammond replied. He was quiet for a moment. "Not since..." He trailed off suddenly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Right," Rowan said softly, touching his arm to comfort him. "I'm sorry." Meghan was surprised when Hammond didn't pull away. He didn't like to be touched, especially by other Aberrants.

"It's in the past now," Hammond rasped, taking a quick drink from his water. Everyone fell into another uncomfortable silence.

"So, what's good?" Alex asked quickly as he opened his menu, breaking the silence once again. Laura shot him a grateful look as he spoke.

"Everything looks wonderful," she said, opening her own menu.

"Can't come to Florida without having seafood, I guess," Rowan chuckled as she perused the meager selection of beef and chicken.

"Why would you want something else when the gulf is less than 100 yards away?" Alex asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"Maybe I'm in the mood for chicken," Rowan said.

"Bah. I'm having the Signature Tuna," Alex said, setting his menu on the table.

Laura folded her own menu. "I think I'll have the snapper," she said. Turning to Meghan, "What are you having?"

"The shrimp," Meghan said. She hadn't even picked up her menu.

"You always have the shrimp," Laura said.

"We've been here, what, once before? That's not always," Meghan shot back. "Besides, she shrimp is soooo good." She sighed as she recalled the delicious cheese-and-vegetable stuffed-shrimp the restaurant served.

"I'm going to have the duck," Rowan said.

Alex groaned. "You're in Florida, at a seafood restaurant overlooking the beach."

"I want the duck," she replied stubbornly.

"Leave her alone, Alex," Hammond murmured without looking up from his menu. Finally, he set it aside as just as the waitress walked up.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

"Yes," Hammond said before anyone else could respond. "He's having the tuna," he said, gesturing to Alex. "She's having the duck, she's having shrimp," nodding to Rowan and Meghan in turn. "And she's having the snapper," finally waving to Laura.

"And what will you have?" the waitress asked.

"I'll have the crab," Hammond replied.

"Will this all be one check?" she asked.

"Yes, bring the check to me."

The waitress smiled and left as Meghan exchanged glances with Laura and Alex. This was something of a surprise, as Hammond was notoriously tight-fisted with his wallet.

"Thank you, James," Alex said, smiling. Laura and Meghan murmured thanks as well.

"I'm just glad we're all here and in one piece," Hammond said, seeming flustered by the gratitude.

"So am I," Rowan agreed. A thin smile crept across her face. "As long as we're all here, though... what exactly happened in Abilities Familiarization this afternoon?"

Laura and Alex both became pale as Hammond cracked his first smile of the evening.

=========================================

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Silenced Heavens
21 October 2005

February 30, 2011

"Someone explain this to me again: why are we sitting here in the dark?" Alex asked as he tugged his red trench-coat close about himself. The hillside they were sitting beside provided little defense against the icy wind that cut through the thin layer of scrub covering the otherwise stark ground.

"Because apparently North Korea is as good a place to get frostbite as any other," Meghan responded, her teeth chattering as she huddling close to Laura's back. Laura was hunched over a laptop computer, examining a map displayed on the screen.

"Both of you be quiet," hissed Rowan. She was sitting higher up on the ridge, her ceramic form impervious to both sensors and the cold. Turning her back on them, she continued to scan the distant structure with her binoculars. Meghan and Alex fell silent, but not without exchanging mutinous glances with one another.

"I don't see a way around it," Laura finally said, closing the laptop. "We have to go in by force."

"You're insane!" Alex snapped, staring at the woman. "Not only does Kim Jong-chol think enough of this facility to station an entire battalion to guard it, but he also has two squads of Aberrant elites here as well!"

"So?" Laura blinked at Alex, her face expressionless.

"Damn it, it's suicide," Alex muttered. "Even assuming we could take on half the North Korean army by ourselves - which is hardly a given, I might add - we have no idea what the capabilities of the Aberrants inside are."

"Don't worry," Laura said. "I have that under control." She stretched, arching her back, causing Meghan to grumble and press herself tighter against the other woman. More than anything, Meghan hated the cold.

"If we're going in, we'd best do it now," Rowan said, sliding down beside Alex and handing him her binoculars.

"Why?" Laura asked, leaning back against Meghan.

"Because the guards on the outer wall are changing shifts now. If we catch them between shifts, we have a definite advantage."

"Agreed," Laura said, standing up slowly and wincing as blood rushed back into her legs. Meghan muttered something under her breath and stood up as well.

"Can I light up yet?" she asked, shivering slightly as a breeze ruffled her hair.

"Not until we're closer to the facility," Rowan said. Meghan looked to Alex for help, but the blonde man just shrugged helplessly.

"Let's go," Laura said.

. . . . .

Getting over the wall had been the easy part - Alex had floated himself and Rowan over, while Laura did the same for Meghan. Now they had to get inside.

"Any bright ideas?" Alex asked, examining the massive armored doors critically.

"Yep," Meghan said. Her fingers began to glow white hot as she plunged them into the thick steel. Slowly, she began to work her way down, runnels of glowing liquid metal dripping away as she cut a four-foot by four-foot square in the armor. Finally, she stepped away from it. "Alex?"

"My pleasure," he replied, smiling. There was a shrieking, grinding sound as the inch-thick slab of metal was pushed through the door and out the other side, leaving a neatly-cut hole in the door itself. Alex bowed at the waist, gesturing towards the door in a sweeping manner. "After you."

"Why thank you," Meghan said. She disappeared through the hole. A second later, the chatter of automatic gunfire came from inside the building. Three seconds later there were horrible screams. Five seconds later there was silence. Meghan ducked her head back through the hole. "All clear," she said, smiling.

"Good job," Laura said, floating through the hole. Alex followed her, while Rowan brought up the rear. An alarm began blaring from deep inside the facility, but none of them paid it any mind.

Two guards confronted them as they turned down a long corridor. They fired just as Laura raised her hand. The bullets from their weapons were suddenly moving slowly, and the two soldiers were contorting, bending toward a point somewhere between them. As the bullets began to sail back toward the two men, they crumpled together into a crackling, grinding ball of meat, metal and bone as the gravitational forces pulled them together. Dropping her hand, Laura let the pulpy mass drop with a wet thud to the floor as she walked past it.

Around the next corner, they found another pair of heavy doors. This time, Alex simply crumpled them with a few telekinetic blows, and then they were in the heart of the facility, on a cat-walk high in the air.

A massive structure, the metal ceiling rose above them several stories, while the main floor rested a hundred feet beneath them. Along each wall, and in the center, transparent tanks filled with bubbling liquid were lined up, waiting.

"Damn," muttered Alex. It was eerily similar to the German facility they had destroyed last year. Rowan started to say something, but was cut off as gunfire echoed down below.

"Come on," Laura said, diving off the catwalk. Rowan followed, plummeting toward the ground until Laura's abilities arrested her fall. Meghan and Alex joined them, floating down slowly until they reached the main floor.

Almost immediately, Rowan broke into a run and headed for the sounds of the fighting. The others followed quickly. Then they all stopped short, staring. "My god," Rowan whispered. Laura smiled, but said nothing.

Two squads of soldiers stood flanking a massive man covered in thick scales and dressed in a tight brown jumpsuit. Around him lay several still forms, similarly garbed. He was facing a figure that stood in a darkened corner, swathed in shadows, outlined by flaming white light from his eyes.

"You can't steal mine," the scale-covered Aberrant hissed, his voice higher than one might have expected from a man of his size. His English was heavily accented, but understandable. "My comrades were only Betas. I am Alpha." He laughed, a sickening, chortling sound that rattled deep in his throat.

"But what are they together?" Hammond growled, stepping out of the corner. One hand lit up with fire, while the other whipped up a whirlwind. Igniting the air in the whirlwind, he sent it toward the scaly man. The man stood his ground while the soldiers on either side of him scattered. One man didn't run fast enough and was caught in the maelstrom. He was lifted, wailing, into the air, buffeted by the flaming winds as they scoured the flesh from his bones. When the winds dissipated, a charred skeleton dropped to the ground in its wake.

The huge Aberrant laughed at that. "Weaklings, all of you. I will crush the interloper myself." He took a step forward and swung at Hammond, moving with surprising speed and grace. Hammond dodged, his movements fluid as he allowed the strikes to pass him.

As the soldiers regrouped away from the two combatants, Rowan dropped among them from above, having been carried there by Alex's telekinesis. Her bone-white hands moved like lightning, striking here and there in rapid succession. One palm-strike collapsed a man's rib-cage, while a knife-hand blow decapitated another.

The soldiers fell back, shouting to one another in their Korean. A few tried to fire at Rowan, but the ricochets only wounded their fellows. And then Alex was there, flinging the men into one another, shattering skulls and snapping bones. Meghan was moving at the outside edge of the group, picking off those who tried to run. After the first few attempts ended in gurgling shrieks, most of the soldiers decided that they'd rather take their chances with Rowan.

Hammond, meanwhile, was still dodging blows from his huge opponent. Suddenly, one of the strikes connected, sending him flying backwards into the far wall. Picking himself up, Hammond shook himself, then closed his eyes. White flames of energy still leaked from between his lids as he raised his hands.

"Again, interloper?" the scaly man rasped, chuckling evilly. Hammond didn't answer. Instead, a pulsing energy beam shot out from his hands and slammed into the massive Aberrant. The monster shrugged it off. "Is that all you have?" he hissed.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter. I don't need to kill you," Hammond panted, dropping to his knees. Draining that many Aberrants and then using their abilities had left him fatigued.

"Why is that?" the enemy Aberrant laughed, licking his lips as he approached the downed warrior.

"Because she's going to kill you," Hammond said, nodding past his opponent. The armored Aberrant whirled in time to see Laura's smile. And then he began to contract, his exodermal shell straining under the gravitic pressure that nearly bent him double. He gibbered in agony as his scales cracked and gave way, his pain-filled howls finally tapering off into silence as his internal organs were crushed between the bony plates of his hide. "Damn," growled Hammond, pushing himself to his feet. "It took you long enough."

"Sorry," Laura said, shrugging apologetically. She looked over her shoulder to where Alex and Rowan were mopping up the last of the guards. "Almost done."

"Yeah," Hammond said. He looked around. "The Germans must have made copies of the Project Blue documents."

"We knew they must have," Laura said.

"Still, I'd hoped. Did you hear him?" he asked, nodding toward the oozing wreckage of the scaly Aberrant. Hammond's eyes had returned to normal now. The fallen North Korean Betas would have had their abilities back, had any of them survived the confrontation. Hammond had ensured their demise, however. He hated surprises.

"Yes. He referred to himself as an Alpha, and the others as Betas."

"They're using our terminology, Laura. We have to assume they know everything."

"But only the documents for Project Blue were taken," she whispered.

"That doesn't mean that the spy didn't tell them more."

"God," she gasped. "What if the Koreans know about-"

"They don't," Hammond replied flatly. "They can't. Only four people know about that, and two of them are standing right here."

"Can you imagine if they did know?" she asked. She heard cracking and smashing behind her as Meghan and Rowan began systematically destroying the vivitanks lining the room.

"They would undoubtedly try to alert the others," Hammond said flatly.

"And then?" Laura looked into Hammond's eyes, fear betrayed there.

"And then we would be forced to act a little more hastily than I would like."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 7, 2017

"Cal is such a b*****d," Fred growled to Wyndi as they sat down at their desks.

"He didn't know, Fred," Wyndi said. Meg nodded, but still looked perturbed.

"It doesn't matter! He knew that the sparring match was supposed to be about abilities, and since he couldn't beat you fairly, he cheated."

"Assistant Director Hammond didn't think it was cheating," Meg commented.

"That's because Cal is his pet and everyone knows it," Fred huffed. She brushed her dark-blonde bangs out of her eyes and glared across the room at the boy in question. If he noticed, he didn't let on. He was too busy laughing at something Jacob was saying.

"I don't think he's that bad," Wyndi said, glancing over at Cal.

"Wynd!" Fred sighed with exasperation, "You forgive people too quickly. That's why you're always getting hurt."

"I don't like holding grudges," Wyndi replied softly. She pulled a dark blue ribbon from her book bag and tied her long blonde hair back in soft ponytail. "It makes my stomach hurt."

"You're hopeless!" Fred groaned, rolling her eyes. But a moment later, she smiled fondly at her friend. She had been protecting Wyndi from the world for the last six years, ever since they had been assigned to the same dorm when they first arrived at the Academy.

"I know," Wyndi said, smiling back. The three girls sat in silence for a few moments.

Meg suddenly giggled, her short, light-red hair bobbing as she did. "So, has anyone asked you to the dance yet?"

. . . . .

"Are you okay?" Rene asked, peering down at Weston, who was sitting at his desk with his head buried in his arms.

"I'm fine," he groaned, his voice muffled by his sleeves.

"You don't look fine," Rene said skeptically. Weston just waved her off with one hand while keeping the other pressed against his temple.

"What's wrong with him?" Michael asked, turning around in his chair.

"I have no idea," Rene said, still staring at Weston, mixed concern and curiosity on her face.

"He probably over-exerted himself yesterday," Ian said.

"What?" Rene turned to the blonde boy, eyes narrowing.

"He probably just used his abilities for too long yesterday without warming up," Ian explained. "That always gives me a migraine."

"Could be, but I've never had that happen," Michael replied, shrugging.

"What do you do for it?" Rene directed the question to Ian, but looked back to Weston as she spoke.

"Drink lots of water, mostly."

"Using your abilities dehydrates you?" Michael asked.

"It seems to," Ian said. Rene said nothing, but dug around in her backpack until she came up with a bottle of warm soda.

"That won't help hi-" Ian began, trailing off as the liquid inside turned transparent. Beads of condensation formed on the outside of the bottle. "Okay then," he finished lamely.

Rene nudged the now-cold bottle of water into Weston's hand. "Drink this," she whispered. Weston looked up and nodded gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. His expression suddenly became alarmed, and he quickly spit the liquid back into the bottle. "What?" Rene gasped.

"It was fishy!" Weston moaned, burying his head in his arms again.

. . . . .

"You know," Marty said, nibbling on the pastry he'd grabbed from the cafeteria, "these really aren't half bad."

"It smells like floor wax," Dave grumbled.

"That's the artificial sweetener," Marty chuckled, taking another bite of the frosting-covered bun.

"I don't know how you can eat that stuff," his friend replied.

"I don't smell things the way you do. It tastes good to me."

Dave didn't respond as he sat down at his desk. Marty sat beside him, finishing off his pastry in relative silence. A moment later, Adam sat down behind them.

"Did you hear?" he asked, grinning.

"Hear what?" Marty asked around the last mouthful of his breakfast.

"We're getting another sparring lesson in AbFam today," Adam replied, still smiling toothily.

"AbFam?" Dave asked.

"Abilities Familiarization," Marty replied.

"Since they're letting Betas spar, maybe we'll get a chance now," Adam said.

"Can you imagine if they put us up against the Alphas?" Marty asked.

"No way they would do that," Dave said, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Evan said, sitting down beside Adam behind Marty, "because we might make one of their precious wittle Alphas look bad, and they can't have that."

"You realize this isn't 'us against them,' right?" Dave glared at Evan.

"It is because the Academy says that it is," Evan retorted. "Every policy in place here is Alpha-centric. The only reason they keep Betas around is become some of them might be lucky enough to become Alphas."

"You're crazy," Dave said, rolling his eyes and turning toward the front of the room. Miss Mitsumi had just come in and was erasing the chalkboard. A few more students came in and sat down just as the bell rang.

"Okay then," Miss Mitsumi said, turning to the class and smiling. "On Monday, we were discussing your summer reading lists. Today, I want to see your reports."

The class groaned as one and began digging through their belongings for the requested papers. Yet another day of classes had begun at the Academy.

=========================================

CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tense Past
22 October 2005

November 28, 1998

The Czech Aberrant narrowed his eyes and lashed out, the long, thin blades on the tips of his fingers drawing a bloody track across James' chest. Hissing in pain, James leapt back and swept his hand outward. A burst of flames enveloped his opponent. The Aberrant shrieked in agony and fell backwards over the railing, his arms spinning like windmills as he plunged to the lobby floor some five stories below. A wet thud cut his screams short.

Backing away from James, the remaining Aberrant agent shook her head. "You won't take me," she snarled, her accented English making it clear she had learned the language in London. James smiled, reaching out for her with his will, draining her abilities.

"I won't have to," he said, moving toward her. She raised her hands, her face suddenly exhibiting confusion when she couldn't use her abilities. James took a long step forward and landed a sharp blow to the side of her neck with his hand, dropping her like a sack of wet sand. Touching his ear-piece, he said, "Hammond here. Four Alpha-Tangos neutralized."

"Good work." Coleman's voice came over the ear-piece. "Did you locate the doctor yet?"

"No sir. I'm meeting Geiger down on the third floor, and we'll head for the detention area together."

"We need him alive, James," Coleman said.

"Yes sir."

. . . . .

Raising his hands, Erich fired off a burst of microwave energy at the guard. The man gurgled slightly and collapsed, his internal organs liquefied inside his torso. Suddenly, Erich's ear-piece buzzed. "Magnetron Alpha, come in." The voice was that of Assistant Director Coleman.

Touching his ear-piece, Erich responded, "Geiger here."

"Drain Alpha will be at your location inside of five minutes. Have you located the cell-block yet?" Coleman's voice was strong, even over the sound of the alarm blaring in Erich's other ear.

The boy looked up and saw three guards running towards him. "Yes, sir. I believe I have."

"Eliminate as much of the opposition as you can before Hammond arrives."

"Yes sir." Erich raised his hands and aimed them at the two outside guards. A soft humming rang inside his head as the two men fell to the floor, writhing in agony as the microwave radiation emanating from his hands cooked them inside their armor. The guard in the center fired a burst from his weapon, but it went wide. The man froze, his eyes wide and sightless. The extraneous pulses from the microwaves that had killed his comrades had cooked his corneas, glazing them white. He was completely blind.

Erich hesitated as he raised his hands again. He hated killing, though it was largely all his abilities were good for. It was what he had been trained to do. But he still hated it - even if he was very, very good at it. The humming inside his head increased as the invisible radiation from his hands heated the guard's brain to the boiling point.

As the man collapsed, Erich strode past him and around the corner into the cell-block. Inside the two-hundred foot length of the cell-block, detention cells lined the walls. All were empty, save one toward the end. Erich walked down and locked eyes with the man inside.

"Get me out of here!" the man hissed, his eyes franticly darting from side to side, as if he expected the guards to attack at any moment. Erich looked around, trying to find the switch or button that would release the door.

"Let me do it," Hammond said, coming up behind him. Erich stepped aside, allowing Hammond to touch the door. A crackle of electricity, and the door popped.

"Ran into an Electro?" Erich asked as they helped the doctor out of his cell.

"Yeah," Hammond replied. He shook a little, his steps slowing.

"Withdrawal?" the boy queried. Hammond raised his hand. A tiny puff of flame appeared, then vanished.

"Going, going, gone," he muttered. Erich glanced at the older man, noting that the white glow that had been emanating from his eyes had dissipated, revealing the whites with their pale blue irises.

"Let's hurry," he said. As they rounded the corner, a roar like thunder caught his attention. The boy turned to see a woman standing behind them, lightning raging around her. He raised his hands, but a bolt of electricity arced out and struck him in the chest, flinging him backwards. He tried to scream, but nothing came out.

As everything faded to black, he heard the woman laughing. "You should have killed me," she said to Hammond.

"I know," Hammond replied. Erich closed his eyes for the last time as the sound of thunder roared in his ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 7, 2017


"I don't have time to think about that," Dave said, turning to stare at Marty. Marty returned the stare, his eyes wide, a pop-tart clutched between his lips.

Removing the pop-tart, Marty said, "Look, just consider it, okay?"

"Damn it, the dance isn't until the end of the month, Marty!" Dave shook his head as he deposited some books into his locker.

"By which time all the best girls will already have been asked! We need to plan now."

"Fine," Dave said, rolling his eyes.

Marty grinned triumphantly and took a bite out of the breakfast treat. "Who are you going to ask?" he queried, his mouth full.

"I already told you I don't know. How about you?"

"Fred," Marty said dreamily, smiling.

"Fred?" Dave turned and looked at where Fred and her two friends were standing, chatting about something. "Really?"

"Don't stare!" Marty hissed, grabbing Dave's arm and dragging him away from his locker. Dave rolled his eyes, but went along with his friend. Pulling him into an empty classroom, Marty said, "I don't know what she'll say, but I have to try."

Dave's eyes narrowed. "You want me to ask one of her friends out so she'll say yes to you, don't you?"

Marty smiled innocently. "I never would have thought of such a thing, but thank you for offering, my friend." Now he pushed Dave back out into the hallway. Looking over Dave's shoulder, he pointed at the three girls. "So, which one are you asking out?"

. . . . .

"We have to stop meeting like this," the boy whispered, stroking the girl's long, dark hair.

"Why?" She arched her back, rubbing her shoulders against his hand.

"It's not right," he said, but he didn't move his hand away.

"I'm not giving you up," she murmured, laying her head against his chest. She could hear his heart race as she did so, and she smiled to herself.

"I can't do this." His voice was filled with anguish.

"It's not like you're seeing anyone else," she said, looking up at him. Her dark eyes were pleading.

"But you are," Weston sighed, laying his head back against the wall of the practice shack. His guitar lay against the opposite wall, untouched.

"It's not... he's not..." she started, then trailed off. She was silent for a moment. Then: "He's not you!" Liz whispered, wrapping her arms around Weston tightly. He hesitated briefly, then embraced her, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I really should walk away," he said, holding her tight.

"But you won't," she said into his chest.

"No," he agreed sadly, "No, I won't." They held each other in silence for the next several minutes, waiting for the bell to ring.

. . . . .

Jillian sighed miserably and nibbled at her cold pizza. Once again, she was sitting by herself at lunch. Not that she had anyone to blame but herself. She wasn't exactly a sparkling conversationalist. Shaking her head, she took another tiny bite. But what else could she do?

A shadow fell across her tray from behind her. She didn't look up. "May I join you?" a voice asked. She gestured to the seat across from her. A strangely-familiar boy sat down where she indicated. He had long, black hair that hung limply over his face. The long, black leather sherwani he wore had a high Nehru-style collar that covered the lower half of his face. And to top it all off, he was wearing opaque black sunglasses. Indoors. Underground.

And he seemed very, very familiar.

The boy didn't try to speak with her further. He just sat across from her, watching her. She wanted to ask him why he was staring, but she couldn't. She tried to focus her attention on her lunch, but the way he sat, perfectly still, gloved hands folded on the table in front of him unnerved her. Finally, she set down her soda and gave the boy the most annoyed look she could muster.

He just stared at her, his eyes unseen behind his solid black glasses. Was he asleep? Irritated, she reached up and grabbed his glasses. As they came away from his face, she gasped. The glasses faded and vanished, revealing a pair of glowing red eyes. Now she knew where she had seen the boy before.

"I apologize," Gendou said, slowly losing his form. His coat and gloves faded into amorphous black shadow, his limbs and head slowly joining the shapeless mass. Only his eyes remained the same. Jillian shook her head, still in shock. Gendou's red eyes bored into her. "I did not mean to disturb you," he continued, his tone hollow, but still apologetic, "I simply wished to see if I might be able to fit in better. I see that this is not the case."

Jillian stared, then smiled. He was so awkward. She shook her head vigorously, trying to convey that she didn't mind. But the shadow-boy was already moving away, floating like a black mist over the floor and through the door without opening it.

Sighing, Jillian poked her food. Damn. She suddenly realized that if she was so desperate for contact that she missed the company of someone like him that she was in far more dire straits than she had previously thought. She really needed to figure out how to make friends without actually having to talk to them.

. . . . .

"We have too much at stake to rush things now," Hobson Murdoch hissed to Laura.

"Calm down," she said quietly, her eyes cold. "Hammond has everything under control."

"You don't know that," Murdoch said, raising his voice slightly.

"I know that if you don't calm down, you're going to draw attention to yourself." She glanced across the cafe and smiled reassuringly at their waitress, who was looking at her with concern.

"Who cares what the mundanes think?" Murdoch muttered petulantly, but his voice was softer now.

"I care. And as long as they outnumber us, you should too." Laura sipped her coffee.

"You still don't know that Pryce isn't already onto you."

"I'm the head of his intelligence division, Hobs. Everything he sees goes through me. He knows precisely what I want him to know and nothing more."

"You underestimate the old man," Murdoch said, smirking.

"No, but you underestimate me and my devotion to the Movement." Her tone had taken on a slightly angry edge.

Murdoch was instantly apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said, spreading his hands palms up. "I didn't mean to question your devotion." Laura noticed he said nothing about his underestimating her. Still, she smiled.

"It's nothing," she said, patting his open hand. He squeezed it, and she felt a momentary thrill run up her spine. Jerking her hand away, she gave him a warning look. "Hobs, Sue would-"

"Sue isn't here," Murdoch said, but he made no move to reestablish physical contact. There had been a mutual attraction between them ever since his days as her English professor. He was largely the reason she had chosen to teach English Literature in the first place.

"Even so," Laura whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse. The waitress was suddenly at her elbow, and Laura found she had never been so grateful for prompt service in a restaurant.

"Can I get you anything else?" the woman asked, smiling at Laura.

"No, thank you." Laura looked into Murdoch's smoldering brown eyes. "I think we're done here."

=========================================

 

[Gendou]

CHAPTER TWENTY
White Shadows
23 October 2005

March 16, 2012

Everyone was looking at her. It was what she had wanted, had desired. She was the center of attention. And now she wanted nothing more than for everyone to just stop staring. Why had she volunteered to give her report first? Her hands began to shake, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Stop staring at me! she screamed inside her head. Slowly, the eyes drifted away from her.

Suddenly, the teacher stood and walked up to the front of the classroom. "Who wants to give their oral report?" she asked.

Sandra blinked at the woman in surprise. "Ms. Grisham, I wasn-" she began, but was cut off when one of the boys in her class stood up and began reading his report to the class. Sandra stared at him, then walked up the teacher. "Ms. Grisham," she said, tugging on the woman's hand. The woman pulled away gently, but did not speak to Sandra.

Now it was getting strange. Why would no-one notice her? She wanted to scream again, but she just felt tired. Shivering slightly, she sat down at her desk and laid her head on it. In a moment, the little girl was fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was dark when she woke up. Rubbing her eyes, Sandra walked out into the hallway. It was quiet, dark and empty. Sniffling softly, she walked to the exit. She pushed on the handle, but the door was locked.

"Hello?" she called. No response came except an echo. "Hello?" she called again, more loudly but more tentatively. Still no response. Shivering more out of apprehension than cold, she walked to the cafeteria. An exit sign glowed over one of the doors. A fire escape. She ran to the door and pushed on it. It opened, and she stumbled out into the parking lot. Looking around, she realized it was night and the lot was empty.

Why hadn't anyone looked for her? She sat down on the asphalt and hugged her knees to her chest. Where were her parents? This had all happened when she had wished people would stop staring at her. She would never make a wish like that again.

She had been sitting alone with her thoughts for almost half an hour when a dark blue van pulled up. The side door opened, and Sandra stood, tensing to run. Then her mother appeared, looking frightened. "Oh god, sweetie, where have you been?"

Sandra ran to her mother and embraced her. "I've been here! I've been here!" she sobbed, over and over again. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Sandra?" a voice asked. The little girl turned and looked at the woman standing next to her. The stranger wasn't tall, but she had a presence that made Sandra want to listen to whatever she had to say. The woman smiled kindly. "Sandra, my name is Doctor Zendrake. I'd like to run a few tests on you. Is that okay?"

Sandra nodded shyly. The woman pulled out a tiny blue-and-white cylinder.

"Hold out your finger, honey," the woman said. "This will only hurt a little bit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 7, 2017

"You don't seem surprised," Coleman said, leaning back in his chair.

"Nothing surprises me anymore," Pryce muttered.

"This needs to be dealt with quickly, Ephraim."

"Patience, old friend." Pryce steepled his fingers on his desk. "She doesn't publicly advocate the Movement here at the Academy. At least not to the students." He paused, eyes narrowed. "We have more of a threat to the students through the Murdoch boy than through Laura."

"She and James are still teachers, and they can have as much sway through what they don't say as through what they do say."

"I'm not disagreeing, Mark. I'm simply pointing out that now is not the time to act."

"I hope you don't wait too long, Ephraim." Mark Coleman stood shakily, gripping his cane. He was sixty-five now, and feeling every year deep in his bones.

"I will move when the time is right, I promise you that," Pryce said. Coleman just nodded, then walked to the door and opened it.

"Good luck," he said, turning back toward the room momentarily.

"Thank you," Pryce replied. Coleman stepped through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

. . . . .

"How was lunch?" Hammond asked, looking up from his desk.

"It was crowded and noisy. I do not understand why they look forward to it." Gendou slid up the wall and rested in a darkened corner at the back of the room, his eyes burning intently.

"You have to learn to socialize, Gen," Hammond said, frowning.

"I understand. I am doing my best." The hollow, rasping voice was apologetic.

Hammond waved his hand dismissively. "That's not in question, son." He sighed and set down his pencil. "I'm just worried that we kept you away from the other kids for too long."

"They are frightened of me," Gendou said softly.

"Are you any less afraid of them?" Hammond asked. Gendou didn't respond. Standing, Hammond walked toward the corner where the shadow-mist floated against the ceiling. "You have to become comfortable with them, Gendou," he murmured.

"They are frightened of me," Gendou repeated.

"They don't know you. Any more than you know them." Hammond began pacing back and forth. "I'm going to assign you two new projects."

"What are they?"

"The first is that I want you to participate in Abilities Familiarization today. I'll let Alex know ahead of time, and I'll try to be there myself."

"You want me to spar?" Gendou's tone was dubious.

"I want you to get to know your fellow students, and I want them to get to know you. Abilities class is the best opportunity to do just that."

"Very well. What is the second project?"

"I want you to ask someone to the dance," Hammond said.

"A girl?" The dubious tone had redoubled.

"Would you rather ask a boy?" Hammond asked, genuinely curious. The red eyes narrowed, but no response was forthcoming. Hammond sighed in frustration. Sexuality was one of the most confusing aspects of Gendou's nature. He had discorporated before reaching puberty, so the issue had never arisen. The boy understood the technical aspects, of course - he wasn't uneducated in the matter - he simply had no sexual experience, and as far as Hammond could tell, no sexual desire either.

"Why do you require this of me?" The voice was hollow, almost metallic, and very haunting.

"Because I believe this is the best way for you to gain skills in socialization. It will also require you to practice maintaining your physical form for extended periods of time, which is never a bad thing."

"Surely there is another way," Gendou said.

"We've tried other ways," Hammond replied. "Now we're going to try this."

"Very well." The tone was calm. One thing Hammond admired about his young ward was the fact that the boy was never sullen about doing what he was told to do. He might question you once or twice about it, but once it was clear you would not relent, he would do what he was told without question.

"Do you think you can maintain solidity for the next few hours?" Hammond asked.

"Certainly," the boy replied. Slowly, the mist drifted down from the ceiling, molding itself into a fully-clothed Gendou from the feet up. Sunglasses covered his glowing red eyes; and a high round collar covered the lower half of his face, allowing him to speak without having to worry about moving his mouth.

"Good," Hammond said, sitting back down at his desk and resuming work on his papers.

Gendou waited a few moments more before walking to the door. He paused at it, then slowly reached for the doorknob and opened it. Behind him, Hammond smiled.

. . . . .

"I'm not saying they're right, Meghan. Just that they have a point." Rowan took a sip from her milkshake and looked out across the rooftops to the habitat complexes.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Meghan said, shaking her head. She popped a french fry in her mouth. "Aberrant Superiority is a ridiculous idea. We're, what, less than one-tenth of one percent of the population? And because we have special abilities, we should tell the other ninety-nine point nine percent what to do?"

"It's not that," Rowan said. "I just think that Aberrants should be in control of Aberrant destiny, that's all."

"How are we not, Ro? I mean, who runs this facility? Who is in every high-ranking position in this place? The only human I can think of who's even in charge of a department is Doctor Zendrake, and she's been here forever."

"But who gives Pryce his orders, hm?" Rowan looked down at the parking lot four stories below. "The NSA? The Pentagon? The President? They're all humans."

"So what do you want? For Aberrants to have their own country?" Meghan stared at her friend in scornful disbelief.

"That might not be a bad idea," Rowan murmured.

"I can't believe this," Meghan groaned. "You're too smart to believe that."

"What?" Rowan turned angrily to Meghan, "So now James is stupid? And Laura?" She scowled. "They're two of the smartest people I know."

"No, no!" Meghan said, waving her hands in surrender, "I just meant-" she broke off, paused a moment, then sighed, "Oh, I don't know what I meant." She hunched forward and stared at her feet. "I just think they're misguided," she finally said.

"Maybe," Rowan whispered, leaning back to look at the clouds.

. . . . .

"Hey Liz, wait up!" Cal ran to catch up with his girlfriend. She turned and smiled at him, waiting for him to join her. "I missed you at lunch. Where have you been?"

"Oh, studying," Liz said, still smiling. "How about you?"

"We had a free period after lunch, so me and Jacob played some one-on-one in the gym." He grinned and leaned forward give her a quick kiss. She turned her head at the last minute, so his kiss landed on her cheek.

"Did you have fun?" she asked, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, we did," he said. "I wish you and Amy had been there to cheer us on, though."

"I'm sorry. Maybe next time?" Liz's dark eyes sparkled as she spoke. Cal wondered briefly where the hair ribbon she'd been wearing first period had disappeared to, but the thought vanished as Jacob joined them.

"Hey man," Jacob said, punching Cal in the arm. Cal elbowed his friend, but addressed Liz: "Yeah, next time for sure. And bring Amy so she can cheer for Jacob. He'll need it."

"What the hell? I kicked your a**," Jacob scoffed.

"Dream on, Alpha-boy," Cal smirked, dodging a playful swat from Jacob.

"Oh, you want go there, squirt-gun?" Jacob asked, grinning evilly. Cal's eyes narrowed, but he was laughing as he wrapped his arms around Jacob's waist and tried to trip him backwards. Liz rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving the boys to their rough-housing.

. . . . .

"Only Alpha and Beta students are eligible to attend the Academy at this time. We have almost two hundred students right now, with almost a full quarter being Alpha students ranging in age from eight to eighteen," Laura said. "Why is the difference so great?"

"Because so few Alphas survive their manifestation," Weston said.

Laura nodded. "That's correct. Fewer than thirty percent of Alphas survive their initial manifestation. Even so, the number of Alphas in the Academy is disproportionate to the number of Betas. Why?"

"The majority of Aberrants are Deltas and Gammas," Amy replied.

"What is another name for Deltas and Gammas?" Laura asked.

"Latents." Amy was smiling.

"Good. So why is that significant?"

"It's estimated that 80% of the Aberrant population are latents," Amy said. "Of the 20% that manifest, three-quarters are Betas."
"Exactly!" Laura said, smiling. "So when we consider that, we realize that the number of Alphas in the student population is actually disproportionately higher than in the general population? Why?"

"Not all Betas attend the Academy," Michael said, "but all Alphas are required to by law."

"Correct. Which law?" She looked around the classroom. No-one responded. "Anyone?"

"The Cranston-Hawkins Amendment to the Mandatory Aberrant Education Act requires only Alpha-class Aberrants to attend the Academy," a voice whispered from the center of the room.

Laura blinked at Sandra, then nodded. "Yes, that's correct. Prior to 1986, all Aberrants were required to attend the Academy. When they changed the law, the school ended up with a lot of unused space. That's why Gamma and Delta dormitories are currently closed."

"Do you think they'll ever reopen them?" Evan asked.

"The Aberrant percentage of the population is growing every year," Laura said. "At some point, we will probably need the space, yes."

"With more and more Aberrants being born, do you think it's safe to say that Aberrants are the next stage in human evolution?" Cal asked. His smile made it clear that he knew exactly what he was asking.

Laura cleared her throat and shot Cal a glare. "I don't believe that is relevant to this discussion, Cal," she said quickly. Moving on before he could speak, she said, "Does anyone else have anything to add?"

=========================================

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Fire and Ice
26 October 2005

June 8, 2017

"Exchange students?" Hammond raised an eyebrow as he flipped through the folder in front of him.

"It will only be for a short time," Pryce said, steepling his fingers.

"We do a lot of classified work here. How did you get the government to agree to have foreign nationals here?"

"I explained to them that it was in the best interests of the United States and her allies that we engage in some small degree of joint training. They refused to consider team-based exercises, but they are allowing several students from other countries to visit our facilities."

"And these lists?" Hammond held up a sheaf of papers.

"All rejected, for one reason or another."

"So who is coming?"

"One student from each participating nation. I tabbed the pages in yellow. Next semester, a group of our students from the Academy will tour the facilities for those nations."

"It sounds like we got the better end of the bargain," Hammond commented dryly.

"We have the upper hand when it comes to Aberrant research. We always have."

Hammond stopped and stared at one name on the yellow-tabbed list. "German?"

"Is there a problem?"

"I'm surprised you're inviting a German student here, especially after-"

"The theft of the documents was unofficial. It never happened, and you know it." Pryce glared across at his assistant.

"Yes, sir," Hammond whispered.

Pryce straightened in his seat. "Look over the names. The Israeli student is of especial interest to me."

"Chanan Harel," Hammond read aloud. "Seraphic Alpha?"

"She has an especially intriguing combination of abilities that I would like to see in action."

"So you want the exchange students included in Abilities Familiarization?"

"As much as possible, at least for the Alphas." Pryce stood and turned to face the window. "I'll leave those details up to you."

"Very good, sir," Hammond said, smiling as he read over the dossiers in front of him. "When will they be arriving?"

"The middle of September," Pryce replied.

"Good. That should be enough time, then." Standing up quickly, Hammond quietly let himself out of the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 7th, 2017

This isn't right, Marty thought to himself, wincing as another projectile ricocheted off his armored body. Why did Hammond stick me up here like this?

Across from him, Fred was grabbing another fist-full of ball-bearings and squeezing them out of her fist, firing them like a machine-gun. Archer Beta is a hell of a lot more useful than Armor Beta. He shielded his eyes with his hand. And a hell of a lot less embarrassing.

As an Armor Beta, Marty could create a thick, rock-like living armor around himself. The problem was that doing so doubled his weight but not his strength, making any kind of movement tiring in the extreme. He had chased Fred around for a little bit at first, but she was too smart to let him get close enough to touch her.

So he was pretty much doomed to waiting Fred out. Which could be a while, as it seemed she was only getting warmed up. Her ability allowed her to fire projectiles from her fists by squeezing her fingers around them and accelerating them out from between her fingers through the hole in her fist. It looked awkward to Marty, but it seemed to be effective. Besides, it's not like he had any place to talk.

"That's enough," Roth said, nodding to Fred. She dropped her hands and let the ball-bearings filter back into the bucket Roth had provided her.

Hammond came over to where Marty was standing. "How are you?"

"That sucked," Marty growled, finally relaxing and allowing his body to return to normal.

"The more time you spend in your armored form, the more muscle you'll build up. I was disappointed to see you give up and just stand there."

"What was I supposed to do? Keep chasing her?" Marty felt like he wanted to cry. How was he supposed to ask Fred out now?

"Yes, absolutely. Even if you had no chance of catching her, you should have kept trying. At worst you would have gotten some exercise. At best you would have tired her out to the point that she slipped up." Hammond sighed and shook his head.

"This is the most useless ability ever," Marty muttered. "It's not even worth the effort."

"In the field, you could draw enemy fire and keep them from injuring or killing a weaker teammate." Hammond reached down and tipped the boy's chin up so he was looking into Hammond's eyes. "You may think that Alphas are superior somehow, but we aren't. We just have different levels of talent. My abilities don't make be bulletproof, and what won't even scratch you could kill me dead." He gestured toward the students on the bleachers. "Knowing your abilities could save the lives of any one of them. Is that worth the effort to you?"

Marty felt his face heat up. He hadn't meant it that way. Why did Hammond have to assume he was only thinking about himself? Seeing that Hammond was still waiting for an answer, Marty nodded in silent agreement.

"Good," Hammond said, clapping the boy on the back. "Go on, sit down."

Walking up to where Dave sat in the bleachers, Marty glanced over and saw that Fred was already sitting down with her friends. She made eye-contact with him, then turned to one of her friends and whispered something. The three girls giggled madly, and Marty felt his face heat up again. Damn Hammond. This was so embarrassing.

. . . . .

"He's the first person I could actually spar with," Fred giggled.

Meg nodded and looked at the boy. He blushed and looked away. "Not being able to kill him must be nice," she said.

"You could always fix him up if she did hurt him," Wyndi laughed. She glanced at where the boy sat with his friend, head ducked down. "He's really kind-of cute," she said, examining him critically, "in that super-emo Jason Behr kind-of way."

"Hands off," Fred announced, "he's mine."

Meg giggled. "Do you think he'll ask you to the dance?"

"He'd better," Fred said, turning to look down at the floor where Assistant Director Hammond and Professor Roth had just finished discussing which would be the next two students to spar. "He'd better, or I might just have to ask him myself."

. . . . .

"I still think we need to give Evan a chance to spar," Alex said.

"Not until he learns to control his abilities better. He may only be a Beta, but he's still an Electro. Even if he can only generate electricity on touch, he can still stop a heart or disrupt synapses with his hands." Hammond looked over the students as he spoke.

"Fine. Who then?"

"The Voss boy?"

"Against Kevin? Adam's only a beta," Alex countered.

"He has far better control over his abilities than Reilly." He eyed the boy in question. He was whispering something to the Zendrake girl, who was shaking her head in annoyance.

"Even so..." Alex shook his head.

"What about Gendou?" Hammond turned and looked at Alex, his pale blue eyes meeting Alex's dark blue ones.

"What about him?" Alex was confused.

"I want him to spar today," Hammond explained.

"Against who?" Alex glanced around the room, trying to locate the shadow-boy.

"Voss?" Hammond was looking up above the bleachers to a spot in the support beams.

Alex tracked Hammond's line-of-sight back until he spotted it: a dark figure, hunched down and sitting on one of the rafters. Gendou had maintained human form just as he had been asked. That didn't mean he intended to sit with the other students. "Again, Voss is a Beta. He might be able to cut through Kurohisa's defenses with his light beams for a short period of time, but he's not going to be able to keep it up. His abilities just aren't consistent yet."

Hammond sighed, but deferred to Alex's greater experience with the students. "Fine, who do you want to see Gendou spar with?" he asked in exasperation.

"How about Matt?"

"We don't have enough metal here," Hammond pointed out.

Alex nodded thoughtfully, running his eyes over the students slowly. "Weston?" he asked, glancing at the boy where he sat chatting with his usual companion.

"Close," Hammond said, an evil grin spreading slowly across his face. "What about Nicolae?"

"Rene?"

"I want to see her in action against my boy," Hammond said. Alex glanced at his old teacher, feeling a familiar chill run down his spine. He had seen this same look on Hammond's face the day he had put Laura up against Curtis. From what Alex had heard, the physical therapy had gone well, and Curtis could walk without crutches now.

"If you're sure," Alex said, putting as much of a warning tone into his voice as he dared.

"I'm sure," Hammond said, ignoring the tone.

"Fine."

. . . . .

Rene shivered slightly as she felt the glowing eyes pass over her body. She wondered what was going through her opponent's mind. She hadn't expected to be chosen for sparring, and certainly not against a completely unknown opponent. She fingered the paperclips in her pockets. They were all she had, along with the .5 pencil leads Weston had given her before she left the stands.

They would have to be enough.

She heard Hammond shout something, and then her opponent came apart like a bucket of water being poured onto the floor. Only his glowing red eyes remained, part of an inky pool of blackness that was slithering toward her. A pair of thin, whip-like tendrils emerged from the puddle and lashed out at her.

Rolling to one side to avoid the blow, Rene pulled out one of the pencil leads. Exerting her will on it, she flicked it at the puddle. A ping-pong ball was rapidly batted away, the advancing enemy hardly slowing. She dodged two more tendril-strikes, and then he was there. Rising out of the solid blackness on the floor, the vaguely humanoid form reached for her.

Tensing, she dodged, but one tendril wrapped itself around her ankle. Even through her thick cargo pants and heavy military boots, the tendril burned like ice. Gasping in pain, she was distracted enough to allow it to yank her off-balance, throwing her to the floor and knocking the breath out of her. Rolling over onto her back, she pulled out a paperclip and tossed it. It bounced off, not even having the good manners to change forms before being useless.

Scrambling backwards, Rene pulled out another paperclip. The glowing eyes were staring down at her. She felt a sudden, unreasoning terror that the blackness was going to swallow her alive and she would never be heard from again. Exerting her will on the clip, she flung it at the shadow-demon in front of her.

Mid-way between Rene and her target, the paperclip burst into a brilliant white-hot blaze.

. . . . .

The boiling paperclip of energy struck Gendou hard, eliciting an inhuman wailing from the shadow. He was not used to pain, and this hurt quite a lot. Few things could injure him - intense flames, concentrated sunlight and high-level microwaves were among those few. This felt like none of them. It was raw, unmitigated anti-shadow, and it was the most horrific thing the shadow-boy had ever experienced.

Dissipating around the wound, he retreated back into himself, diving into the floor and the cool, welcoming shadows therein. Though the shadows instantly healed his wounds, he sat there in the darkness for a long time afterward, shivering with remembered pain.

Briefly, he wondered why the girl would hate him so much as to wish to cause him so much pain. But he knew that such self-pitying thoughts served no-one. Instead, he would need to focus on how he would defeat her next time. Even if the thought of facing her even once more made him want to dive deep into the earth and never return to the human world again.

. . . . .

"Where... where is he?" Rene gasped.

"He's gone," Alex said, patting her back. Her blue-dyed hair was damp with sweat, and she panting hard. He wondered if it was exertion, nervousness or fear that caused her to do that.

"I won?" she asked, looking around for the first time.

"Quite handily," Alex grinned. He glanced back at where Hammond stood, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Really? Rene blinked, then suddenly regained her composure. "I knew I would," she said, glaring at Alex as if he were to blame for her moment of weakness.

"I know," Alex replied, still grinning. The girl had potential, especially if she could take on Hammond's immortal pet without breaking a sweat. Or much of a sweat, anyway.

Rene turned and walked back up to the bleachers while Hammond joined Alex.

"She's impressive," Hammond admitted, a rueful smirk on his face.

"Oh, very," Alex said, turning his grin to Hammond.

"What exactly did she do to him?" Hammond asked.

"No idea," Alex returned. The bell rang, and the students all stood up to leave. "I have no idea," he finished lamely, watching the students file out the gymnasium doors.

=========================================

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
An Ill Wind
27 October 2005

January 15, 2009

This high above the city, the wind was cold enough freeze a man inside of a minute. Fortunately, she wasn't a man. Slowly, she moved her hands from one crevice to the one above it, methodically scaling the side of the building.

Here, alone, she knew this was her calling. This was the way it was meant to be. One hand after the other, pulling herself up. Carrying her own weight using only her own strength. This was life. This was her life.

The upper stories of the Park Tower in downtown Chicago were some of the most expensive luxury apartments in the city, with security to match. Fortunately, said security would be no match for her.

Earlier in the day, she had checked into the Park Hyatt as a guest and made her way to the 18th floor. From there she located a service elevator to the next floor, the 19th. Waiting until after dark, she located a window and began her climb.

And now, almost two and a half hours later, she had reached the 63rd floor. Lifting her head over the edge of the sill, she gazed inside at the decadent interior. She wonder briefly what it might be like to live in such splendor.

Then she remembered her purpose in being her. Sliding a diamond-edged blade from her belt, she began to carefully cut the edge of the glass. Due to the sway of the building at this height, there were no alarm sensors on the window itself, as the vibration of the wind would be enough to set it off. After about twenty minutes, she had cut away the edge of the pane. Gently, gently, she tapped the rectangle of glass with the base of her palm.

The glass fell to the carpeted floor inside without a sound. Anyone standing in the room, however, would have felt the temperature drop almost sixty degrees in just a few minutes. Condensation instantly coated the inside of the glass, making it impossible to see. Slowly, she slipped in through the hole she had made. Gripping the pane, she adjusted it and slid it back into place, then carefully caulked it with a silicone base she had carried for just that purpose. Instantly, the room began to warm up again.

On the wall above the window, a camera swept blindly past her, the lens focused on the far side of the room. The motion sensor atop the device couldn't track her, and so the camera didn't attempt to lock onto her. Waiting until it was at the far end of its tracking arc, she sprinted for the hallway. Another camera, another wide tracking arc, another motion sensor that couldn't see her.

All of the security devices in the building seemed to be aimed at preventing an intruder from entering through the front door. Whoever had designed the system had assumed that being so high up in the air would prevent anyone from coming in through the windows.

That assumption would cost the resident of this apartment dearly.

Stepping past the camera in the hall, she moved from the adjoining hall into the bedroom. A steady snore rose from the bed, occasionally interrupted by a cough or a pause in breathing. Padding over to the bed and looking down, she saw a short, chubby man in his late sixties, with a graying comb-over and thick jowls. Next to him lay a young woman, blond and in her mid-twenties. Clearly not his wife.

Silently, she removed the diamond-edged blade from her belt. Bone-white fingers flexed around the handle as she leaned forward and gripped the man by the front of his sleeveless tee-shirt.

"Wake up," Rowan hissed. The man sputtered and coughed, then blinked groggily at her.

"Who are you?" he asked in confusion - confusion which rapidly morphed into fear as he saw the long-bladed knife in her other hand.

"I have a message for you," Rowan breathed softly. The man nodded quickly, clearly terrified. "Senator Daley is extremely disappointed in you," she went on.

The man's eyes widened in horror as the words sunk in. "No! No!" he whispered, turning a fear-filled gaze on his bed-partner as she rolled over. He turned back to stare at Rowan. "Please!"

"You should have thought about that before you ordered Judge Getzendanner killed," she murmured.

"But I did it for him! I thought it was what he wanted!" the man whimpered. A sharp scent assailed Rowan's nostrils and she realized the man had just wet himself.

"You did it to protect your own interests, Ryan," Rowan said, smiling. She raised the knife, poised.

"Don't kill me!" he shrieked. The woman next to him stirred, eyes fluttering open.

"What's happ-" she began, the gagged as the knife embedded itself in her throat. Blood sprayed across the wall above the bed and soaked the woman's silk slip.

Ryan wailed and grabbed the knife, trying to pull it free. It came loose with a wet slurping sound, sending a gout of blood arcing across the front of his white tee-shirt. Wild-eyed, gripping the knife, covered in blood... he looked exactly the part of the crazed murderer.

Without another word, Rowan turned and left the room. She allowed herself a smile as she slipped out the front door, her armored skin fading away, her skin-tone becoming a natural color. Stepping into the elevator, she shook her head. This had been one of her easiest missions to date.

By the time she reached the lobby, the police had already arrived. Turning, she re-entered a different elevator and headed up to her hotel room. She would order room service tonight and expense it all. Hammond owed her that much for the favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 7, 2017

"You're angry," Hammond said. A black tendril whipped out, decapitating the practice dummy. Fading into the floor, Gendou emerged as a mist, enveloping the dummy. Solidifying suddenly, he flexed his entire body, displacing the dummy explosively. Hammond kicked one of the larger pieces back towards the target.

"I am not. I will not pretend that losing was a pleasant experience, however." Gendou moved on to the next dummy, his form fluid as he swirled around it, a thousand sharp-edged blades of darkness turned inward against the target.

"I see," Hammond said. "Were you embarrassed?" He nodded with approval as the shadow-boy fell away from the target, allowing it to collapse into a pile of rubble. The boy had disappeared all afternoon, and only now, after dark, had he returned to the gymnasium to practice.

"Embarrassed? No, I was not." Gendou floated to the next dummy in line, countless tendrils waving out from his amorphous body, each one tipped with a blade. Whisper-silent, they struck the practice dummy simultaneously and with such force that the dummy simply became a cloud of dust and debris.

"Then why are you so intent on not losing next time? Hammond asked.

Two red eyes glowed from within the dark cloud of shadow. "I simply do not enjoy pain," Gendou said matter-of-factly, before moving on to destroy the last practice dummy.

. . . . .

"This is ridiculous," Cal muttered.

"Your abilities are what you make of them," Hobson replied, raising an eyebrow. "If you want your abilities to be ridiculous, by all means, let's stop practicing now."

"That's not what I meant," Cal said softly. "I just... being a Beta sucks."

Hobson reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a box of toothpicks. "Do you know why I carry these every where?" he asked. Cal nodded slowly. Hobson pulled a toothpick out of the box and held it up. It began to smoke, and then burst into flames. "I can generate heat, but not flame."

He waved his fingers over the flaming toothpick, which exploded into a fireball, illuminating his face in the dark room. "I can't generate flames like your teacher, Miss Mitsumi. I can, however, control flames." He rolled the fireball around in the palm of his hand before closing his hand tight, extinguishing it. "Because of that, I must always carry around tinder of one sort or another." He looked hard at his son. "Does that mean I suck?"

"No, Dad, I didn't mean to-" Cal looked distinctly miserable.

"I'm a Pyro Beta, Calvin," Hobson said. "That's nothing to be ashamed of." He wrapped his arm around his son's shoulder. "The only difference between Alphas and Betas is that Betas have to depend on their wits more than their abilities." He smiled grimly. "Work smarter, not harder. You don't have to overpower your opponent. All you have to do is defeat them."

"I know that, Dad, but when I tried to do that in class the other day, Hammond seemed upset."

"Assistant Director Hammond," Hobson said, stressing the other man's title, "does not necessarily understand the best way to train Betas." Seeing the discouragement in Cal's eyes, Hobson sighed. "Why don't we try a different exercise," he said. He led Cal into the kitchen, then opened the freezer. Reaching into the ice tray, he pulled out an ice cube. "What is this?"

"Ice," Cal said, his tone making it clear he thought his old man had lost his marbles.

"But what is it? Fundamentally?"

"Chemicals?"

"Less fundamentally," Hobson said, smiling. At Cal's confused look, he sighed in exasperation. "It's water, son."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Water."

"Yeah."

"You can generate water, Calvin."

"Yeah? And?"

"You can generate ice."

"What? How?" Cal blinked in shock.

"A little concentration and a meditation trick my old Abilities teacher taught me..."

. . . . .

"You're sure you're alright?" Weston's concern was tangible.

"I'm fine. Really." Rene crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her friend. "Stop bugging me."

"It's just... you really seemed like you were wigging out there," he said.

"I was fine. I beat him, didn't I?"

"And how!" Weston laughed enthusiastically. "You sent him packing!"

"So why the concern?" Rene narrowed her eyes and looked askance at the boy.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just making sure."

"Stop worrying about me," she said, snorting in derision as she looked away to the ceiling. Suddenly, her head came around, an evil grin forming on her lips. "Hey, you never did tell me who you were seeing in the girls dorms."

"Hey, you're right, I didn't!" Weston said. Rene waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"And?"

"And what? I didn't tell you, and I'm not going to."

"Don't make me kick your a**, Sokol. I will so do it."

"Bring it, b***h," Weston sneered.

Rene laughed scornfully. "Oh, it's on now, ********," she scoffed. Picking up a wireless controller, she tossed it at him. "You pick."

"Soul Edge V," he said.

"What? That's so old!"

"It only came out like two years ago!" Weston gaped.

"Soul Edge VI is so much better," Rene averred.

"No way. Give me the old-school classics," he grinned.

"Ugh. You probably still play Soul Calibur IV on the Playstation 3!" she mocked.

"Not that old-school!" he muttered as she picked up her own controller.

. . . . .

"I didn't tell them they could bring teachers," Pryce said, glaring at Laura from across his desk.

"They didn't ask. They just assigned them, sir," she murmured.

"All of them? It's a conspiracy."

"Possibly," Laura said. "It's more likely that they simply decided it was too dangerous to send a single student to the facilities alone."

"One or two might decide that independently, but all of them? Someone has been whispering in their ears, Laura."

"Perhaps," she admitted.

"Find out who," he said, nodding. "I want to know before those planes land on Monday."

"Did you see the name of the German teacher?" she asked.

"I did. It can't be a coincidence."

"Should I warn him?"

"No, don't mention it. It may be nothing." Pryce steepled his fingers. "If it is something, no amount of warning will help."

"Four exchange students, four teachers," Laura said softly. "This place will be crowded."

Pryce knew she wasn't talking about the amount of physical space, as much of the facility was still closed down after the student population drops in the mid-eighties. "I know. It's only for a month."

"I hope we last that long." She sighed and stood up. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Laura," Pryce said. She left the inner office, closing the door behind her. Pryce's secretary had long since gone home, and the ancient young man was the only one left behind as Laura turned off the lights in the outer office and stepped into the corridor.

=========================================

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Fifth Ace
28 October 2005

March 30, 2001

"I hate mid-terms," Meghan muttered, tossing her book-bag into her locker and slamming the door closed.

"I offered to help you study for them," Laura said, carefully placing her own books inside her locker and closing the door gently.

"If I'd known they were going to be this difficult..." Meghan moaned. She shook her head, then looked across the hall to where Alex was talking to Nora James. He looked up, and seeing her looking at him, winked. Blushing, Meghan turned back to Laura.

"He still hasn't asked you to the Spring dance?" Laura asked.

"No. I don't think he's going to," Meghan sighed. "I wish he would. God, he's so hot."

"I guess," Laura said, disinterested.

"Are you coming over tonight? We rented Chocolat." Meghan giggled. "Johnny Depp is almost as hot as Alex." She put the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon.

"I can't," Laura said, coloring faintly. "I have to help Professor Murdoch with a project tonight."

Meghan groaned. "You help him out all the time, though. Can't he do his own work?" When Laura didn't answer, Meghan sighed. "I wish Ro would get back soon."

"Is she in the hospital again?" Laura asked, concerned.

Meghan nodded. "I swear, she's in the hospital more than she's in class. I wish we could visit her."

"Me too. I hope she doesn't have what Erich had," Laura whispered. Three years ago, a boy in their class had gone to the hospital and hadn't returned. Prior to his death, he had been in the hospital almost as often as Rowan.

"Oh god, me too," Meghan murmured, looking horrified.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Did Ro ever mention what it is?"

"I asked her once. She said she didn't know, and she didn't want to talk about it." Meghan looked from side to side, making sure they were alone. "But I've heard rumors."

"Rumors?" Laura's tone was skeptical.

"That she isn't sick. That's it's a conspiracy."

"And who is behind this conspiracy?"

"Coleman, of course!" Meghan tilted her head and held up a finger. "It goes all the way to the top."

"To the director." Laura's disbelief made the words a flat statement.

"To the President!"

"And what is the purpose of this conspiracy?" Laura asked.

"They're experimenting on students!" Meghan hissed.

Laura giggled, eliciting a look of outrage from her friend. "Meghan, there have been rumors about experiments for as long as the Academy has been around."

Meghan stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "You don't have to laugh, Laura. I just think if there are so many rumors, maybe there's something to them."

"Right," Laura said, still giggling, "and little green men landed at Roswell."

"They were grey," Meghan insisted, then blushed.

"You are so gullible," Laura laughed.

Meghan's eyes narrowed, a wicked glint appearing in them. "And you... are so ticklish!" She dove for Laura's ribs, her fingers wiggling.

Squealing and laughing, Laura dodged away, then ran down the hallway, Meghan in hot pursuit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 8, 2017

Fred snapped the fingerless gloves into place. She hated wearing them, but one look at the bare palm of her right hand was enough to convince her to put them on. She had manifested during a math test, embedding a pencil two inches deep into the chalkboard above her teacher's head. The act had earned her the category of Archer.

Her hand had taken months to heal properly afterward, and there was still some residual stiffness along the scar that neatly crossed the palm of her hand, cutting her lifeline in half, something which had horrified her rather superstitious mother.

Tucking her dark blonde hair behind her ear, she examined herself critically in the mirror. The gloves always added an unwanted 'biker chic' vibe to her dress, which ended up as jeans and a sweatshirt more often than not. She couldn't pull off long skirts like Wyndi or cute shorts like Meg. No, the androgynous dress was appropriate for the girl with the androgynous name.

Sighing discontentedly, she opened the door to her dorm and stepped out into the hall.

. . . . .

Meghan was surprised. She hadn't expected so many of the high-school teachers to show up. Even some of the teachers from the lower grades had made it. Apparently Hammond's mandatory meeting was more mandatory than his usual mandatory meetings. And this one was particularly early, and on a Friday morning no less.

"Some of you may already know," Hammond began, then waited for the conversations around the room to die down. "Some of you may already know that we will be having guests at the Academy next week." No surprise was evident on any of the faces in the room. It was common for senators and other politicians to be given the five-cent tour when they asked to see what their constituents' money was being spent on.

"For the first time," Hammond went on, "we will be hosting students from some of the international programmes run by allied nations." Now the surprise was beginning to show. Murmurs ran through the room, silenced by a glare from Hammond. "We will extend to them every courtesy, and we will treat their students as our own," he said.

"What about classified research?" Hicks asked, her dark eyes narrowed. She and Hammond didn't get along well.

"There is nothing classified at the Academy level that we are not willing to share with our allies," Hammond responded. The previously silenced murmurs returned in force, now clearly outraged by this lack of respect for their work. "This comes directly from Director Pryce," he finished.

At the mention of Pryce's name, most of the grumbling teachers fell silent. Only a few continued to whisper in hushed tones to one another. Hammond ignored them, opting instead to simply continue talking over them. "Alex Roth will be holding a double Abilities Familiarization session today during 5th period, so anyone with 6th period classes at the high school level are free to either join us in the gymnasium or leave early.

This seemed to calm many of the teachers down, much to Meghan's relief. The last thing the school needed was to have one of the many factional rifts in the faculty split wide open while they had visitors on campus.

"I believe that will be all, unless there are any questions," Hammond said. With no questions raised, Hammond quickly dismissed the teachers back to their classrooms without another word.

. . . . .

"Hey Amy," Cal called, walking over to the tall blonde, "have you seen Liz anywhere?"

"Uhm, I don't know." Amy managed to look both guilty and nervous at the same time, prompting Cal to raise an eyebrow.

"Well if you see her, let her know I'm looking for her, will you?" he asked. Amy was hiding something, but he had neither the time nor the patience to figure out what it was.

"Okay," Amy said, smiling guiltily. Cal shook his head and headed down the corridor to where his locker was located. Opening it up, he reached for his English and History texts when he felt a guilty start. Maybe it was contagious.

At the bottom of the locker sat his violin case. Already, a thin film of dust had covered the side facing upwards. He had promised his mother that he was faithfully practicing every day, and he hadn't considered it a lie - after all, he fully intended to eventually. But now he saw it for what it was. And he hated lying to his mother.

Checking his watch, he realized he had at least another 45 minutes before homeroom. Most of the teachers had been called into a meeting early this morning, so classes were supposed to be a bit behind. Sighing in frustration, he picked up the violin and headed for the elevator. Well, at least no-one was likely to see him down in the practice shacks at this time of morning.

. . . . .

"Did you hear?" Kevin asked Robin excitedly.

"Hear what?" the girl asked.

"We're having a special session of AbFam today."

"Where did you hear that?"

He grinned. "Your mom!"

"Kevin, grow up." Robin rolled her eyes.

"No, I mean it! Your mom told me that AbFam is a double session today, and..." he paused, as if building up excitement, "we're holding it outside!" His grin, impossibly, became even wider. He nodded to her, as if urging her to express the excitement she was no doubt feeling at the news.

Robin took a deep breath. "So?"

"What do you mean, 'So?'" Kevin snapped, outraged. "Outside, I can actually use my abilities."

"Nifty," Robin yawned.

"Bah," Kevin muttered. "You're no fun."

"I'm sorry, I just can't get excited about AbFam like you do," Robin sighed. "It really sucks not being able to participate no matter what."

Kevin blinked, then frowned. "I'm sorry. I hadn't really thought about it like that." He shrugged. "Honestly, I'd love to have an ability like yours. At least I'd get better grades in chemistry. My abilities, well... let's just say they don't give out A's in earthquakes, thorny-brambles and impromptu gender-bending."

Robin giggled. "Okay, you have a point. Still, it would be nice to have an ability that actually does something."

"You turned that grape juice into wine when we were in 8th grade," Kevin pointed out.

"And my mom hasn't let me have Welch's since," Robin muttered.

"I don't blame her. I mean, seriously - red wine with fish?" He rolled his eyes in mock astonishment.

"They were fish-sticks, moron," Robin said, but she was laughing. Kevin grinned.

. . . . .

Cal stepped off the elevator into the eerie silence of the fifth level. Near the bottom of the underground facility, most of the level was shut down. Even the overhead lights were kept dimmed, giving the expanses of empty corridor an eerie feel.

Walking down toward the practice shacks, Cal was surprised to see light coming out from under the door to one of them. He'd been sure he would be alone. A muffled sound of voices came from inside. As much as the school liked to pretend the booths were sound-proofed, they were anything but.

The shacks were, he knew, a favorite make-out spot for many students. Cal himself eschewed them for the simple pleasures of his own bedroom, one of the many benefits of living with his parents in one of the habitat complexes rather than in the dormitories where the vast majority of the students lived.

He pondered throwing the door open and surprising whoever was inside, but he decided against it. He wasn't twelve anymore. Still, he left the door to his own shack open so he could see who had been in the closed room when they left. They would be forced to walk past his door to get to the elevators, and he knew Liz and Amy would revel in the gossip.

Opening up the violin case, he pulled out some dog-eared sheet music and propped it up on the music stand. After carefully rosining the bow, he pulled out the violin, propped it up, and began playing. He played through the first two songs on his list, then skipped to the sixth.

He was half-way through it when he saw a tall figure walk past the open door. Weston Sokol. Cal grinned. The second one would have to be Rene. The two were inseparable, though no-one had ever proved they were dating. Liz would love this. He stopped playing and leaned back in the bench, the better to see the door.

Rather than the tall, blue-haired figured he had expected to see, a short, dark-haired one hurried past in the dimly-lit corridor outside his door. An all-too familiar figure. Cal stood up in shock, barely noticing as his violin crashed to the floor at his feet.

"Liz?" he called, his voice sounding small and empty to his ears. The figure turned toward him in slow motion pleasedontbeher pleasedontbeher pleasedontbeher, revealing a pale face, dark eyes wide with shock.

"Cal?" Liz gasped, and Cal felt his entire world spiral out from underneath him.

=========================================

 

[Gendou]

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Dew Fall
29 October 2005

March 30, 2001

The twenty-first century. Rowan sighed. It certainly wasn't all it was cracked up to be, that's for sure. Looking around, she gazed down at the lab below her. One more elimination and she'd be done for the week. If she was lucky, she could make it back home and spend at least part of the weekend with her friends.

She wasn't sure when she'd begun to think of the Academy as home, but it very much was her home. Even if she hated the place sometimes.

Silently, she dropped to the floor below, twisting in the air and landing on feet and hands like a cat. The scientist didn't even look up. Rowan slipped up behind the man.

"Doctor Peters?" she asked, her voice low but clear in the small confines of the laboratory. The man jumped and turned to face her, eyes wide.

"How did you get in here?" the man asked. Rowan examined his face and badge. It was Peters. Lashing out, she sliced his throat with her fingertips, severing veins, arteries and trachea in one swift and deadly motion. Peters gagged and fell to the floor, eyes bulging in panic and pain.

Stepping past his still-writhing body, Rowan found what she had come for: the prototype for the XM-22 Self-Contained Directed Energy Weapon. Coleman had made it clear that the weapon could not be allowed to develop. Unlike bullets and other conventional weapons, DEWs could not be stopped by most Aberrant abilities. Elemental and telekinetic shields could not stop a powerful DEW. Even Rowan's armored skin could be damaged by a sufficiently powerful burst of energy. Such a shift in the power balance could not be allowed to stand.

Picking up the prototype, she carefully planted the explosives around the lab. The combination EMP and C4 explosive would guarantee that the computers and remaining components were rendered inert. That, combined with the death of the primary researcher for the project, would set the DEW program back at least fifteen years.

Trudging through the snow, she glanced back to take in the glow from the burning lab. Fire trucks had just arrived on the scene, and she expected the fire to be out in a few minutes. There hadn't been a lot of flammable material in the facilities.

Sighing to herself, she hefted the XM-22 rifle in one hand. She'd done all she'd been asked. Hopefully she'd be back at the Academy and sleeping in her own bed by tonight. Hopefully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 8, 2017

"Cal, wait!" Liz cried as Cal pushed past her. He stormed down the hallway, his face a mask of hurt and anger. "Please, don't go!" she pleaded as he stabbed the elevator call button with his finger. The doors opened and he stepped inside. She started to follow, but froze outside when she saw the look on his face.

He was still glaring at her, pure unadulterated hatred in his eyes, as the elevator doors closed between them.

. . . . .

"So what is there to do around here on the weekends?" Dave asked, sitting down next to Marty.

Marty chewed on his bagel thoughtfully, finally swallowing before answering. "Not a lot. I mean, our campus is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on all four sides by an Air Force base. It's not like there are a lot of places to go."

"So we're stuck here?" Dave appeared perturbed by the thought.

"Not exactly. Some of the upperclassmen are allowed to have cars, though you have to maintain certain expectations of discipline and grades in order to qualify."

"Damn."

"Yeah. The base does run a bus to the mall on Saturdays though, so if you absolutely have to get out, you can at least go to the mall. Oh, and several local churches pick up kids here at the facility on Sundays, though there aren't too many who take advantage of it."

"Yeah, not really my thing."

"I didn't figure it was." Marty grinned as he spoke, finishing off his bagel in a single bite.

"So basically we can either go to the mall once a week or make friends with someone who has car privileges?" Dave asked.

"Yep."

"That sucks."

"You're telling me," Marty sighed.

. . . . .

Weston sat down and leaned back across the bleachers, laying his lanky frame across several rows. Sighing, he tilted his head back and looked up at Rene. "'lo."

"Where have you been?" Rene asked angrily. She picked up her book-bag and began stuffing her things into it with more force than was necessary. "I've been waiting here for almost an hour."

"I'm sorry," Weston said, his tone flat.

"Where the hell were you?" Rene lowered her voice so it wouldn't carry across the nearly-empty gymnasium. Only a few other students were here, most of them doing morning exercises or practicing their abilities.

"I was busy," he said, yawning and closing his eyes.

"Doing what?" Rene's hiss nearly became a shriek of frustration.

"Nothing," Weston muttered, eyes still closed.

Rene looked like she was about to say something else, but just then a canny look came into her eyes. "You were with your mystery girl, weren't you?"

"Why would you say that?" Weston asked, opening one eye and examining her critically.

"You were!" Rene laughed. Weston scowled, but didn't deny the accusation.

"Look, it's not-" he began, then broke off as an angry shout echoed through the gymnasium. All heads turned to find the source of the outburst.

"SOKOL!" Cal Murdoch roared, storming toward the bleachers. Weston's eyes widened as he sat up straight. "YOU b*****d!" Cal snarled.

"Cal, I didn't-" Weston's words were cut off as a wild punch was thrown at his face. He stumbled backwards as Cal's fist clipped his chin. Wincing, Weston threw up his hands defensively. "I don't want to fight you, man!"

"Too ******** bad!" Cal hissed, his eyes blazing with righteous fury. He stepped back and closed his fists, then flung them out towards his opponent. Weston staggered as twin bursts of water slammed into him with the force of a pair of fire hoses. He was thrown backwards into the bleachers with a crunch.

"Damn it, Cal!" Weston growled, picking himself up. A whirlwind formed around his feet, rising to surround him with a wall of air. "You can't win this."

"Really?" Cal asked, tilting his head down and glaring at Weston from under his brow. A thin smile began to form on his lips, and he raised his hands again.

"Really," Weston replied, throwing out his own hands. A ball of compressed air rocketed toward Cal - and missed as Cal rocked away on a jet of water.

From his position near the rafters, Cal laughed bitterly. "You are going to pay!" He flung an open palm at Weston. A series of glittering shards exploded from his hand, crashing into the air shield surrounding the Aero Alpha.

Weston suddenly cried out in pain - one of the shards had gotten through the shield. Looking down, he saw a six-inch long spike of ice embedded half-way into his shoulder. The spike rapidly melted as the hot flow of Weston's blood ate away at it in steaming pulses. Gasping against the hurt, Weston raised his hands and let loose with a massive burst of lightning. The arc struck Cal's chest - and immediately shorted out as it encountered his water shield.

"Weston! Are you okay?" Rene screamed. She turned on Cal, concentrating her will on him. He laughed and raised his hands to fire another burst of ice-shards at her. Instead, he collapsed, screaming and clawing at his face. Rene immediately ran to Weston's side and helped him from the gymnasium, guiding him toward the doctor's office.

. . . . .

"We should have seen it coming," Laura sighed, reading over the report.

"No-one could have foreseen Cal choosing today to practice his violin." Her spy shook his head and shrugged.

"I know. And it seems he's working at an Alpha level now, at least temporarily."

"Hobson will be pleased," the spy said.

"I'm less concerned about Hobson's pleasure and more concerned about the potential outcome of this little tussle. There was already bad blood between the Alpha and Beta students."

"I thought that was intentional."

"It is, to some extent. But an incident like this can set off a chain reaction. Particularly when it's perceived that two all-powerful Alphas ganged up on a helpless Beta."

"Cal was actually winning until the Nicolae girl stepped in."

"What did she do to him exactly?" Laura asked.

"She turned his fillings into tiny eels."

"That doesn't sound terribly painful."

"No, I think it was more disconcerting than anything." The spy sighed.

"I imagine it would be." Laura shuddered as she imagined a mouth full of squirming, writhing eels.

"So what's my next assignment?" her spy asked.

"I need you to remain where you are."

"You're going to make me ask someone to the dance, aren't you?" His tone was resigned.

"One must keep up appearances," Laura said, laughing.

"I suppose so," the spy replied, rising from his chair. Laura stood and came around the desk, wrapping her arms around the man.

"What if the students saw us now?" she asked, smiling into his chest.

"They would no doubt be scandalized," the spy said, kissing her on the top of her head. She tilted her head back, and he kissed her on the lips. After a few all-too short moments she broke away.

"You should go. Class is starting soon." Laura sighed.

"Okay," he said, giving her one last longing look. As he stepped out of her office, he ducked his head back in and said, "I hope I get a good grade on that English exam, teacher."

"I always grade fairly," she laughed.

"I'm doomed!" Ian Prentiss moaned, shaking his head in mock anguish as he left the room.

=========================================

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Fallout
10 November 2005

August 15th, 2017

"So he'll be the perpetual student?" Alex asked skeptically.

"Not exactly," Laura said. "I mean, he's almost 22 now. We can only pull this off for so long."

"How will you explain him entering the school now?"

"The usual, of course. We'll plant a few different rumors about him."

"Such as?"

"That he's being held back. That he has a history of mental health issues and was in the psych ward. That he killed another student."

Alex winced. "That's a little to close to the truth for comfort," he muttered.

"Regardless," Laura said, waving her hand dismissively, "the rumors will at once keep the students from asking too many questions and at the same time allow Ian to get close to the students we need him to keep an eye on."

"You know," Alex said, a sly grin crossing his lips, "there are rumors about you two."

"There are always rumors concerning liaisons between superiors and their subordinates. They have about as much substance as the rumors about you and I." She didn't look up from her paperwork as she spoke.

"Except that I'm not your subordinate," Alex replied, his tone amused.

"Even so," she replied.

"Besides," Alex said, smirking, "I thought you liked older men." Laura didn't respond, eliciting a scowl from Alex. He'd hoped to get some kind of rise out of her with his last comment. Sighing, he went on, "So you're sending him in the first week?"

"That's the plan. We'll have him join classes a little after the rest of the students."

"When is Pryce ordering him back?"

"As soon as he completes the operation he's involved with now," Laura replied. "I was told it wouldn't be more than a week from now."

"Plenty of time for him to familiarize himself with his new classmates," Alex said, nodding.

"Exactly."

"So who is in on the secret?"

"The teachers will have to be, since most of them will remember him graduating back in '14," she replied.

"Should we hold a meeting?"

"That would be best. I'm certainly not sending out a memo on the matter."

Alex chuckled. "Remember when the memo about Forsythe's grading experiments got leaked to the students? I thought the kids were going to lynch him."

"Precisely why I don't want any of this put down on paper," Laura growled.

"Why?" His smile grew wider. "Don't want to be lynched?"

"I'm not afraid of the students, Alex, but once the genie has been let out of the bottle, is damnably hard to stuff him back in again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 8, 2017

"Suspended?" Hobson Murdoch growled, his fists clenching and unclenching spastically as he stared across the desk at Hammond.

"I don't see that we have much of a choice here, Hobson. He tried to kill two other students. In front of witnesses. Be thankful we're not having him expelled."

"Don't you think you're overstating things?" Susan Murdoch asked, grey eyes wide with shock. "Cal would never try to hurt anyone."

"Tell that to the boy who just got six stitches in the infirmary," Alex Roth muttered, earning a disapproving glare from Hobson.

"I want to talk to Pryce," Hobson said.

"Director Pryce agrees with my decision," Hammond replied. "In fact, he suggested a much stiffer penalty than a one-week suspension."

Hobson grumbled under his breath at that bit of news. "How will Cal keep up with his classmates?" he finally asked.

"We'll send notes over by courier. The punishment is meant to remove him from the other students, not from a learning environment." Hammond drew in a deep breath. "There's always psychiatric solitary, if you-"

"No!" Hobson hissed. "I'm not letting you treat my son like a lunatic."

"He tried to kill someone, Hobson," Roth pointed out.

"You have yet to prove any kind of intent," Hobson shot back.

"Spoken like a true lawyer," Roth retorted, rolling his eyes.

"At least I have a useful degree," Hobson snapped.

"Both of you, control yourselves," Hammond said. He didn't raise his voice, but his calm, cold tone made it clear that he would brook no further disputes between the two men. Hobson sniffed and turned away from Roth, but said nothing more. Roth just shook his head and looked annoyed. Turning to Susan, Hammond continued, "We will send over notes and lesson plans for Cal so he can keep up with the other students."

"Thank you, James," Susan said, smiling sadly.

"I sincerely hope we don't see any further fallout from this situation," Hammond said.

. . . . .

"I heard he skewered Weston with a six-foot-long icicle," Marty said.

"Stupid, that would have killed him," Adam scoffed.

"He's an Alpha, though," Marty pointed out.

"Alpha's aren't all that great," Evan muttered.

"I hope Weston's okay," Dave said. The others nodded. Weston was well-liked the group because he lacked the superior attitude common to many Alphas. At least that was the perception among the boys. Cal, on the other hand, was seen as having an Alpha's superiority complex with Beta abilities - a bad combination in the eyes of the boys.

"So does that mean Cal's an Alpha now?" Marty asked.

"If the rumors are true? Probably," Dave replied. "But all I've heard are rumors, so it's hard to say what really happened."

"I don't know what's more annoying," Evan said, "Cal Murdoch becoming an Alpha, or him kicking Weston's a** in a stand-up fight."

"They both suck," Adam replied.

Evan checked his watch. "Almost time for class," he said, looking around. Most of the students were seated, but Ms. Mitsumi still hadn't shown up, which was odd given her penchant for early arrivals.

"Maybe we get a free day today because of the fight," Marty said hopefully. The other boys glared at him, but they were all secretly hoping the same thing.

. . . . .

"How did he find out?" Amy asked, wrapping her arms around Liz. They would both get demerits for missing first period, but neither of them would be able to pay much attention anyway. So she comforted her friend in the privacy of one of the practice shacks.

"I don't know," Liz sobbed into her friend's shoulder. "He was just waiting down here for us."

"I talked to him this morning. He didn't seem to suspect a thing," Amy replied, thinking back on her own conversation and wondering if she hadn't accidentally given away her friend's secret.

"He'll never speak to me again!" Liz moaned.

"I thought you liked Weston though," Amy replied, confused.

"I do! But I love Cal too! I just... I don't know what I was thinking," Liz whispered. "When I would spend time with Cal, he was all I wanted. But then when I was alone with Weston, all I could think about was him. It doesn't make sense."

"You can't have them both," Amy reminded her.

"I know! I know! But I just couldn't decide. And I couldn't bear to hurt Cal. And now they both probably hate me!" Liz burst into a fresh spasm of choked sobs.

"I don't think they hate you," Amy said.

"You didn't see the way Cal looked at me, Amy. It was like... like I was something disgusting, that he couldn't bear to look at." She drew a shuddering breath and calmed herself.

"Maybe not," Amy murmured, but her tone made it clear that she was unsure of her own words.

"He hates me," Liz said, shaking her head. "And I'm sure Weston does too."

"But he knew about Cal," Amy said.

"But Cal tried to kill him!"

"That's not your fault!"

"But it is! If I had just told Cal when I first started seeing Weston... or if I hadn't gotten together with Weston in the first place... or..." She trailed off miserably, her eyes flooding with tears again.

"You can't blame yourself," Amy whispered into Liz's dark hair. "It's not your fault." Liz just sobbed into Amy's chest, and Amy, unsure of what so say, just held her in silence.

. . . . .

"What were you thinking?" Doctor Zendrake asked as she examined the inside of Cal's mouth.

"I wasn't," Cal sighed. After the adrenaline rush of combat and breaking past his Beta barriers had passed, he found himself alternating between extreme rage at Liz and Weston and extreme shame for his reaction to his rage. Unable to settle on one or the other, he see-sawed back and forth.

"You'll need to see a dentist soon," the doctor said, shaking her head. "These temporary fillings will only last a week or two at best."

"My dad is taking me to our dentist tomorrow," Cal replied.

"Good. I'm still curious as to how she managed to turn three fillings into nearly sixty eels."

Cal shuddered at the memory of the eels filling his mouth, wriggling and squirming and sliding down his throat as he tried desperately to spit them out. "I don't know," he said.

"Considering she could have done far worse to you, I'd consider yourself lucky."

Shuddering again, Cal shook his head. Easy for her to say. She hadn't lived through the experience. "Right," was all he said.

"You'll still need to take a psychological evaluation before you can return to class at the end of the suspension," Doctor Zendrake said.

"I know," Cal said. He looked at the doctor. "How is Weston?"

"He's recovering. You didn't hit anything critical, though you came within an inch of his left lung."

"I'm so sorry," Cal whispered.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," she said.

"I know." He tried to imagine facing Weston, but his hurt and rage were still too fresh. He didn't know what he might do or say if he were faced the other boy right then.

"Well, I'll see you back here in a week, then," Doctor Zendrake said, finishing her checkup. Cal buttoned his shirt and grabbed his book-bag. Drawing in his breath, he prepared himself for the walk home and the inevitable confrontation with his parents.

. . . . .

"You know Murdoch will shout this to the high heavens," Coleman said.

"I'm well aware of that," Pryce replied.

"His son becoming an Alpha is a dream come true for him - and for the movement."

"Indeed."

"I'm relieved that Hammond talked you into the lesser punishment," Coleman added.

"Are you now?" Pryce raised a curious eyebrow.

"The last thing we needed was for Murdoch to use the boy as a martyr."

"The safety of the students should come first," Pryce said.

"Perhaps. But we must all bow to that which is greater than ourselves, Ephraim."

"Even so, I fail to see how Murdoch benefits from having his son and heir separated from the other students at the Academy. The boy has leadership potential, but he'll never learn to wield it properly outside of this institution."

"There are others who can lead. Murdoch's son is more useful as a symbol than as a leader."

Pryce steepled his fingers and stared across the desk at his oldest friend. "Perhaps to the movement as a whole. But despite his many flaws, Hobson loves the boy as much as any father can."

"Something which can always be used to our advantage, eh?" Coleman sighed, his lips forming a bitter sneer.

"Personal honor is hardly something to be concerned with when one is speaking about the fate of mankind," Pryce responded flatly.

"So you've reminded me on many occasions, Ephraim."

=========================================

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A Figmentation Of Your Imaginement
18 October 2005

December 15, 2016

Ian examined himself critically in the mirror above the sink. A shoulder-length lion's mane of gold and brown cascaded about his face, while a dark-blond goatee encircled his lips. Piercing ice-blue eyes and a gold hoop in each ear gave him an exotic, almost pirate-like air. Smirking, he grabbed his black leather jacket from the back of a chair, shrugging it on as he slipped out the door.

His small apartment was set well off any of the main roads here in Porto Alegre, one of the largest cities in Southern Brazil. Designed for the student on a budget, the sink, bed, desk and chair all occupied a space about twelve feet by ten feet. The toilet and shower were shared with others on his floor, which meant getting up early if one wanted to get a warm shower in the morning. There wasn't such a thing as a hot shower, at least not on the third floor.

Hands in his pockets, he stepped out of the small tenement and walked down the alleyway to the street. It was a pleasant morning, so he would walk to the university computing center. After all, today was the day. He had been in place for almost two months now, and this would be the first - and possibly last - chance he had to complete both of his mission objectives in one fell swoop. If he failed at one of them, it would make completing it almost impossible at a future date.

A lot was riding on his performance today.

The guard at the front desk waved him in, smiling. Ian nodded, murmuring a brief greeting in Portuguese. Pulling his ID card from his jacket pocket, he swiped it through the scanner. The doors to the supercomputer lab opened.

From the time of its opening in 1992, National Center for Supercomputing (or CESUP) was at the bleeding edge of large-platform computing in South America. From the Cray YMP they brought online during the first months of operation to the Cray X1E they had installed three years ago, this was the premier computer operations center in Brazil.

And for the last four months, it had been Ian's place of employment - one of the longest undercover operations he had ever attempted. Of course, considering his objective, it was not surprising it would take him this long. Stepping up onto the main platform, he felt the floor creak under his weight. Cooling pipes for the hot-running supercomputers ran under the floor panels here, left loose for easy access to both the coolant tubes and to the power and data cables strung loosely among them.

Stepping through the glass-walled, climate-controlled chamber, Ian glanced over at his co-workers. Kenji Hashimoto was a brilliant application engineer from Japan. He was studying at the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul, of which CESUP was a part. Next to him sat Andre Salgado, an interface specialist and also a student at the university.

"Hey guys," Ian said, walking up behind the two.

"Hey Ian," Andre said, nodding. Kenji ignored the exchange, his eyes narrowed as he absorbed the scrolling screens of code on the monitor in front of him. Ian stepped back from the pair, then turned and walked toward the door. He waited by it, counting softly to himself. Andre cast him an odd look, but said nothing. Kenji continued to ignore both of them.

When he reached twenty, Ian walked back toward his two companions. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on their shoulders and backstepped. His vision swam, and then he was standing by the doors, looking at his own back, the chairs, walls and ceilings around him covered in gore.

"We need to move fast," he said.

"I know," Ian responded, wiping the remains of Andre and Kenji off of his face. He glanced at his watch. "Eleven seconds."

Ian ignored himself, instead focusing on the task at hand. His fingers flipped the latches off the removable drive and slid the case into his hand.

"Seven seconds," his other self shouted. An alarm began sounding. Someone had been watching on the security cameras. Fortunately, they could only see one of the two Ians. Unfortunately, they would soon be sending men to investigate.

Cursing, Ian slid the drive into his coat pocket and ran for the rear exit. "Hold them off," he shouted.

"Only for the next three seconds," his other self retorted. Then the lab doors flew open and his other self was thrown backwards in a hail of automatic gunfire. Wincing, Ian dove through the emergency exit and began running. The other Ian's body would be disappearing in moments.

He ducked behind a dumpster and waited. And waited. Nothing. No running feet, no pursuing guards. They must have thought him dead. How they would explain the disappearance of his body to themselves he had no idea, but the fact that no-one seemed to be looking for him spoke volumes about the human mind's ability to rationalize almost anything.

Pulling the collar of his coat up, he tucked his hands in his pockets and wandered away from the computing center. He had an hour before he had to be at the rendezvous site. Plenty of time to wander off campus and find his way there. Plenty of time.

As he rounded the corner of the building, a short, red-headed girl slammed into him, books and papers flying. She babbled apologies as she scrambled for the scattering pages. Ian sighed and stooped to help her. She adjusted her glasses and smiled shyly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back in the most reassuring manner he could muster. Together they managed to collect all of the lost papers and return them to some semblance of order in her folders.

"Thank you," the girl whispered shyly. Her English was unaccented, which surprised Ian.

"You're welcome," he said. She hurried away toward the quad, glancing back once and blushing when she caught him watching her leave. Shaking his head, Ian grinned and headed for the rendezvous. He suddenly found himself wishing he had more time to spend on campus.

It wasn't until he slipped his hand into his pocket that he realized the drive was missing. And by then, the girl had completely and utterly vanished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 8, 2017

"I heard you were late to class this morning," Alex said, grinning at Meghan as they walked toward the back of the gymnasium.

"Did you?" Meghan's sharp glance revealed her annoyance.

"Yeah. So what happened? You're never late."

"Well, I was today." She looked at Alex again, then sighed. "Forsythe wanted to see me before class."

"Oooo-ooooh," Alex cooed, raising one eyebrow.

"Don't even start with me, pervert," Meghan growled.

"Fine, what did he want?" Alex asked.

"He wanted to let me know that Cal wouldn't be in class today and to let Rowan know."

"That's it?"

"That's it." She pushed the doors to the gym open and stepped out into the sunlight. She shielded her eyes with her hand and surveyed the area. Most of the students were already waiting beside the field. Apparently news had gotten out that they would be holding outdoor practice today and people wanted good seats.

Some of the new bleachers for the gym were sitting beside the field, and a few of the students were sitting on them, ignoring the fact that they were covered in plastic. The other students either stood around or sat on the grass.

"So who do you want to have fight first?" she asked.

Alex's smile became a wicked grin. "Oh, I know exactly who I want."

. . . . .

'Isn't this the way it always is?' Marty thought to himself as he weathered yet another electrical burst from Evan. 'You're invulnerable, so they turn you into a walking, talking target.' Except that he hadn't done much walking or talking.

He knew he was supposed to put up at least a token resistance, but he just didn't have the heart. He could barely feel the massive shocks Evan was laying down with his punches. The fact is, Marty could have reached out and grabbed Evan... but he didn't. It wasn't worth the effort, since Evan would just dodge.

So Marty stood there and took the 'abuse,' even if he didn't feel the attacks much. Everything in him screamed that he had to at least try, but he just couldn't do it. Trying meant failing. It was better to just not try.

Another electrical burst saturated his armored form, but of course he barely felt it. He wondered if Evan could throw lightning around like other Electros that Marty had seen. Somehow he doubted it. That seemed like the kind of thing reserved for Alphas. There were no Alphas here. Just Betas. Just failures without trying.

Sighing, Marty swung his hand at Evan's head. Evan ducked and grabbed the arm, blasting it with electricity. Still, Marty felt nothing - only a profound sense of dissatisfaction with his own performance. Somehow, though, he doubted he could do better.

What was he going to do, magically become an Alpha? No, that sort of thing only happened to the best and brightest. That wasn't Marty. No, he was just a Beta. All he would ever be was a Beta. All he would ever be was a brick wall for others to pound on. Useless. Useless.

Shuddering, he collapsed to his knees, tears streaming uncontrollably from his eyes. He just wanted to die. He wished desperately he could die. Curling up, he found he couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't stop crying. Couldn't do anything. Helpless. So helpless.

. . . . .

As Marty and Evan walked back to the bleachers, Meghan nudged Alex with her elbow. "That was cruel," she murmured.

"Hammond may only rate Evan as a Beta because he can't throw thunderbolts around like Jupiter, but that static field he throws up is deadly. The neurological effects from the field are fairly unpredictable, but by and large they've proven to be detrimental to his opponents." A smile formed on Alex's lips.

"The Castillo boy looked like he wanted to kill himself."

"Severe depression," he said, grinning. "Definitely a side-effect of the static field."

"It's not funny, Alex," Meghan snapped.

"It's hilarious. People underestimate these kids, put them in little boxes and say, 'This is the power you have, this is all you can do.' And time and again they come up with ways expand their abilities." Alex shook his head, smiling.

"I guess..." Meghan said hesitantly.

"Who next?" Alex asked.

"Let's get serious next," Meghan said, nodding.

. . . . .

The boulder narrowly missed Michael's head as he ducked and rolled. Spinning in place, he sliced at vines that rose to entangle him, his hands morphing into a variety of bladed weapons as he moved. Fluidly, he slipped between a pair of rising stone spires and moved toward his target.

The red-headed girl before him narrowed her eyes and flung out her hands. Fist-sized stones rose from the ground and hurled themselves at Michael. He deflected them with his blades and continued his zig-zagging run at the girl. Ten meters. Six. Four. At two meters, he leapt into the air and twisted his body, his hands becoming scythe-like engines of destruction as he rotated.

One meter from his target, he stopped. Vines had entangled legs, and now he hung there in midair. He chopped at the vines, but a froze at the feeling of cold stone against his throat.

"You lose," the girl said softly. "Cut the vines and I crush your throat."

"I can cut your legs out from under you," Michael hissed.

"And die the next instant," Alex said, coming up behind the girl. "Sorry Michael, the match goes to Kevin."

Michael sighed and rolled to his feet as the vines released him. Kevin shifted from his female form to the more familiar male form, then stuck out his hand. Michael took it and shook it firmly. In the end, a match was just a match.

. . . . .

Alex shook his head critically as Jacob's fist passed through the inky darkness of Gendou's body once more. Jacob's abilities were great, but he lacked imagination. His tactics were limited to a few variations on a single theme: phase out to avoid being hit, phase in to deal damage. It worked well against most opponents, but not against one who was almost as ethereal as Jacob himself. And sadly, the boy lacked the ability to adapt to this new threat.

As for his opponent, Alex couldn't tell if the other boy had a similar lack of imagination or if he was simply playing with Jacob. Only time would tell, of course, but in the interim it was painful to watch his student fail to land even a single blow on Hammond's protege. He fought down the urge to yell out suggestions to Jacob.

Suddenly, Gendou flew at Jacob. Jacob phased out, allowing Gendou to pass through him. But the Kurohisa boy didn't complete the maneuver. Instead, he infused Jacob's form, creating a shadow-self inside of the other boy's body. Jacob twisted and turned, trying desperately to shake Gendou, but the shadow-boy was persistent, staying within the confines of Jacob's phased body.

Finally, in frustration, Jacob dove into the ground, taking Gendou with him. There was stillness for a moment. A breeze ruffled the grass of the field, and then Jacob re-appeared - with Gendou still maintaining his presence inside the his opponent.

Jacob flew over to Alex and began signing desperately. While phased, he could not speak or hear because he couldn't affect or be affected by vibrations in the air. So he and Alex had learned sign-language so he could communicate while phased.

He won't get out of my body, Jacob signed. I can't solidify.

I think that's his purpose, Alex signed back. Gendou's red eyes glared impassively at him from within Jacob's chest.

That's not fair, Jacob signed, his translucent hands jerking angrily.

It's a valid tactic, Alex responded reluctantly. Meghan stepped up beside them, but didn't interrupt.

What am I supposed to do?

If you can't shake him, Alex signed, you'll have to surrender.

Jacob's mouth dropped open. He made a few more attempts at dislodging the shadow-form, but Gendou stuck with him like a swarm of black flies trapped inside a jar. I won't lose! he signed furiously.

I think you already have, Alex signed back. He smiled sadly, then raised his hand and dropped it. "I'm declaring in favor of Gendou, as he currently controls the situation," he said aloud. Gendou immediately flowed out of Jacob's phased body and spiraled into his own semi-human form, little more than a black silhouette with a pair of red glowing eyes.

Jacob solidified instantly and glared at Gendou. Finally, he scoffed aloud and stormed toward the bleachers, dropping into his seat with a muttered comment. Alex didn't say anything to the boy. He knew what a perfectionist Jacob was. Losing would only inspire him to try harder next time. He just hoped that inspiration would be enough.

Gendou watched the other boy walk away, then slowly floated over toward the bleachers himself. He situated himself above and behind them, his attention focused on his fellow students.

"So now what?" Meghan asked, watching the students.

"Should we do Alphas now? Or Betas?" Alex responded.

Rowan stepped up behind them. "Why not both?" she asked. Meghan turned to her friend and smiled.

"They haven't trained for team-based exercises," Alex responded.

"All the better. Throw them out there and see which ones work best together with no training at all." Rowan was very much a sink-or-swim teacher.

"Sounds good to me," Meghan said.

"Alright then," Alex sighed. "Let's do it."

=========================================

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Outside Chance
20 November 2005

March 25, 1998

"You ever wonder why we're out here?" Hobson Murdoch asked, lighting a cigarette with the tip of his finger.

"The thought never crossed my mind," James Hammond replied, peering through the binoculars at the encampment in the valley below.

"I'm just glad to be out of class," Erich Geiger said, grinning. Hobson cuffed the boy playfully in the back of the head.

"Well, I'll be happy to be out of here and back Stateside," Hobson said.

"How are you liking Georgetown?" James asked, looking away from the binoculars and toward his friend.

"It's okay," Hobson replied, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I spend most of my time studying just to keep up with the classes. I really shouldn't have even taken this break."

"Not much of a break," Erich said, looking at the jungle around them.

"You'd be surprised," Hobson retorted, smirking.

"What's your toughest class?" the boy asked.

"Contract law," Hobson replied without hesitation. "Writing, writing and more writing."

"You always liked English," James said, smirking.

"This, my friend, is not English. It is no language known to man or god. It is the law." Hobson chuckled mirthlessly and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"I thought you quit those things," James said, eyeing the cigarette with distaste.

"I did. But when I got to my third year in the law program, it was either start smoking again or take up drinking as a serious hobby." Hobson took another pull, then tapped the ashes against the bottom of his heel as he sat cross-legged on the ground.

Erich stretched and shook his head. "What does Susie think of you smoking again?"

Hobson's eyes widened. "Susie doesn't know, and Susie isn't going to find out."

"She'll find out," James said, smirking. "She always finds out."

"You try hiding stuff from an empath sometime," Hobson growled.

"Not me," Erich said, holding up his hands in surrender.

Like most of the boys his age at the Academy, he'd had a crush on Susie Kennedy, even if she was dating Hobson Murdoch at the time. Hobson was widely considered to be the king of campus during his time at the Academy, despite being 'only' a Beta. His roles as both valedictorian and the public face of the Academy had only cemented that position in the minds of his fellow students.

Susie Kennedy was a sweet-natured and pretty girl who many felt was the perfect foil for the intense and short-tempered Hobson. And indeed, she often managed to keep Hobson's darker impulses in check - even when she was several thousand miles away. In spite of her sugar-sweet disposition, Hobson was still afraid of angering her.

And now, having spent a good deal of time with both Susie and Hobson on and off campus, Erich felt he had a great deal of insight into their relationship. His schoolboy crush on Susie had matured into a respectful friendship, and her return to the Academy as a teacher next semester would definitely be welcome.

"We've got movement," James said, interrupting Erich's thoughts. Hobson quickly stubbed out his cigarette and peered down the mountain, as if he could see without the use of binoculars. James handed his friend the lenses, and Hobson could make out several men loading a deuce-and-a-half with boxes.

"We have to stop that truck," Hobson muttered. James nodded. With Erich in tow, the two men began to slip down the hillside, moving as silently as possible through the brush. Down below, the two-and-a-half ton truck idled, while workers loaded cargo into the back. Guards could be seen here and there, and there were undoubtedly more inside the temporary structures erected around the encampment.

As they reached the bottom, James hung back while Hobson and Erich moved forward. Unless there were enemy Aberrants around, he was most useful to them as a spotter. Nearing the first workers, Erich brushed the side of the truck with his fingers. Instantly, the guards and workmen in the vicinity began shrieking and clutching their heads as massive doses of microwave radiation bombarded them. Using the vehicle's metal frame as an arcing base allowed him to cook the men's brains while avoiding damage himself.

Hobson joined him a moment later, only nearing when it was clear the danger had passed. He had been keeping the fuel inside the vehicle in check, preventing it from exploding violently when the truck had been heated by the microwaves. Swinging around the back, he glanced inside. Most of the boxes had been loaded, while a few others remained stacked beside a tent nearby.

A guard shouted something. They hadn't expected to make a silent retrieval, so Hobson was unsurprised. Erich blasted the guard with a particularly high-intensity burst of radiation, causing the man's flesh to liquefy in a matter of seconds.

As the guard collapsed in a steaming pool of blood, flesh and bone, Hobson had time to retrieve a toothpick from his pocket. He had started carrying them as a young teenager, and the habit had proven useful on more than one occasion. Igniting the sliver of wood, Hobson wielded the fire like a dragon's breath, torching the tents nearby with rolling waves of flame. As the guards emerged sleepily, they found themselves cremated by a massive fireball.

Within a half a minute, the entire encampment was ablaze. Every one of the temporary buildings and tents was burning, and the few surviving guards and workers were being leisurely picked off by Erich. James stepped out of the woods now and walked to the back of the truck. Climbing up into the back, he lifted the top off of one of the crates. Peering inside, he whistled softly.

"Well," he said, "at least now we know why we're here."

"We do?" Erich turned from his final victim and walked over to the truck.

"And why the Secret Service was involved," James said as he nodded, lifting up a bundle of fifty-dollar bills. Hobson had pried the lid from another crate and shook his head at the contents. Inside were printing plates, paper and ink.

"Counterfeiters," he muttered.

"Yeah," James said, tossing the stack of bills back into the box.

"We're out here risking our lives to kill a bunch of counterfeiters." Hobson's tone was angry.

"I'm sure they were very bad men," Erich said, suddenly feeling cold.

"I'm sure they were the worst sort," Hobson growled. Erich knew whey Hobson was so angry. He felt that Aberrants were being used for increasingly petty reasons. Hobson argued that due to the rare and specialized nature of Aberrants that they should be reserved for rare and special occasions. Erich did not disagree.

"Once again we find ourselves playing cops for the Feds," James said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, but now they have us do it on foreign soil. If the Vietnamese government catches us here-" Hobson broke off.

"If they catch us, the United States will simply claim they have no idea that we were here. It's that simple." James scowled as he spoke.

"Ah," Hobson said, his tone falsely light, "the wonderful life of the expendable Aberrant." He glanced over at Erich's worried face. "You see why mundanes shouldn't be allowed to control us?" He sighed. "Aberrants should guide Aberrants. It's only right."

"Come on," James said, clapping his hand to his friend's shoulder. "We only have a few hours to get this truck to the coast for pickup."

"Yeah," Hobson replied. He helped the others finish loading the truck, then climbed into the cab. James got in on the driver's side, while Erich sat in the middle of the bench seat between the two men. As they pulled away, Hobson adjusted his mirror so he could see pillar of black smoke rising high into the sky.

The drive to the coast was made in silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 8, 2017

A sparkling swirl enveloped Adam as he swept his hand up and across his torso. Each tiny spark suddenly flared into brilliance, blinding Weston. He threw his hands up to shield his eyes just as Rene exploded through the blinding light, her hands unleashing a storm of powdered ice directly into Weston's face. Only a last minute gust of wind prevented the tiny ice-crystals from getting in his eyes and freezing them. Even so, the few that brushed the backs of his hands burned like fire.

Using the wind to push himself up and back, Weston retreated from his friend while considering the situation. Rene was using the environment to good advantage, turning handfuls of dirt and clumps of sod into a variety of dangerous elements to be used against her opponents. Adam's abilities were non-lethal, but no less effective, as he could fill a small area with blinding light in the space of a few seconds. Working together, the pair were proving difficult to deal with. Weston was on the defensive, retreating more often than not.

Part of this was due to the fact that he had no idea where his own team-mate was. Dave had taken a handful of dirt converted to steam in the face during the first moments of combat and had retreated in agony. Weston hadn't seen him since. This left him largely to his own devices - something he was used to. What was proving less familiar was the necessity of dealing with more than one target at once. He knew he needed to remove Adam before he could deal with Rene, but the blue-haired girl was protecting her partner with the tenacity of a mother bear.

Sweeping over the field at high-speed, Weston scanned below for his opponents. Rene was using smoke to cover their positions, while Adam continued to light up areas within the smoke, giving Weston plenty of targets - but none of them appeared to be valid. Using the wind to remove the smoke was time-consuming, and Rene could generate more simply by tossing more dust into the air and exerting her will on it.

Of course, things didn't always work the way she wanted. Weston had narrowly escaped injury earlier when a rock hurled in his direction had become a dead fish in midair, smacking wetly against his shirt before plopping into the dirt. He shuddered to think about what might have happened if she had managed to turn it into fire, acid or some other equally deadly substance.

As it stood, however, she appeared to be doing better than usual with her control. He wondered briefly if it was because she was partnered with someone she needed to protect. Or perhaps it was simply because she completely confident in her ability to defeat Weston. Shaking his head, the Aero Alpha pivoted in mid-air and made a dive toward a promising-looking breach in the smoke cover.

Below the smoke cover, He found that his visibility was severely limited - for every square meter of smoke he managed to displace with his winds, two more would fill up. He was on the losing end of the fight. Suddenly, he stumbled into someone. Adam.

Raising his hands, Weston tried to pull an electrical charge out of the air around him. As he did so, however, he found himself faced with a painfully bright light source. His hands went instinctively to his eyes, all thought of casting lightning forgotten. Even through his hands, the light glowed white through his eyelids.

As he tried to turn away from the blinding brilliance, he heard a thud and a cry, and then the light faded. Blinking away the stars flashing before his eyes, he could make out one figure standing over another lying on the ground. Soon, the shapes resolved themselves into Dave standing over an unconscious Adam. Weston rubbed his eyes, then grinned. Dave grinned back, his face a brilliant red from the steam blast Rene had given him earlier.

"I've got him," Dave said, hefting Adam onto his shoulders. "I'll take him over to Professor Roth."

"Thanks," Weston said, nodding. The odds were a little better now with Adam out of the picture. If Dave could rejoin him, they might even turn the tide. Now he just had to find Rene in all this smoke.

. . . . .

The ground around her feet was completely churned up from the earlier battle between Michael and Kevin. Around her lay dirt clods and small rocks, all easily transformed into whatever she needed. Usually.

Since her fight with Gendou, she had discovered that it was easier to simply concentrate on a general concept rather than on a specific desire. Rather than picking up a clump of dirt and thinking, "I want this to turn into a ball of fire," she would simply concentrate on the idea of turning the dirt into something that would harm her opponent.

So far, it had proven to be far more effective than her earlier efforts at creating specific results. It was similar to the game she enjoyed playing with the balls, changing them from one type to another without really caring what she produced. She just hadn't thought it possible to apply that kind of thinking in battle. At least not until her fight against the shadow.

And now? Now it was becoming second nature. Even as she mused, she was exerting her will against the ground around her, generating massive amounts of smoke, fog, steam, dust and other concealing measures. Not that there weren't glitches. The dead minnows at her feet were a testament to that. But overall, she was much better at controlling her abilities than she had been even a few days ago.

Suddenly, the fog before her parted and Weston swept through it, floating a few feet above the ground. Where was Adam? He was supposed to be keeping track of the Aero Alpha while Rene hunted down Dave to make sure he was out of the fight for good.

Ducking down, Rene scooped up a handful of dirt and hurled it at her friend. As the dirt clump came apart in mid-air, she narrowed her eyes and concentrated on it. The dirt became a crackling web of electricity, the sparking mass catching Weston in the legs and knocking him out of the sky. He hit the ground hard, but he quickly recovered, rolling and coming up on his feet. Wincing, he touched his shoulder, so recently wounded.

"So," he said, grinning wickedly, "it is down to you, and it is down to me."

Rene didn't respond except to grab another chunk of soil and throw it at him. This time the chunk became three large tuna fish, which plopped into the dust and rolled to a halt several feet from where Weston stood. He raised an eyebrow, then raised his hands above his head. Rene felt the hair on her arms stand on end as he brought his hands down. Lightning arced out of the sky and slammed into the ground only a few feet from where she stood. Her body went rigid as she was thrown backwards by the force. She skidding along, eventually stopping in a crumpled heap not unlike the tuna she had created.

Weston's abilities were simply too vast and powerful for her to face head-on. She had to hide, but the smoke and fog was gone now, dispersed by Weston's winds. She stood up, brushed herself off. Rene tried to summon more concealment, but she couldn't concentrate. She felt dizzy. Instinctively, she ducked to one side as a loud thunder-crash roared past her left ear. Weston stood before her, his vacuum-enhanced punches barely missing her as she danced backwards. If even one of them managed to connect . . .

She tried to focus on the ground beneath him, tried to turn it to her advantage, but he concentration was broken. She couldn't feel what she needed to do, couldn't bring her will to bear in any meaningful way. She continued to move backwards, trying to avoid his strikes.

And then she stumbled. Tumbling backwards, she landed on her back, arms and legs splayed outward. Weston dropped to his knees beside her, the air around him blazing with energy as his fist flew toward her face. Rene squeezed her eyes shut as the thunder roared in her ears. There would be pain, and hopefully, there would be blessed unconsciousness.

Instead, she felt something poke her nose.

"Beep," Weston said, grinning down at her. She blinked at him, brushed blue-tinted bangs from her eyes. His hand was inches from her face, finger extended to touch her nose.

"What?"

"You didn't think I'd really hit you, did you?" he asked, standing up. He held out his hand to help her to her feet. "That would hurt."

"Yeah, but..." She took his hand and pulled herself up. She hadn't been pulling punches when she fought him. The fact that he hadn't been fighting all-out against her shook her to her core. Just how powerful was he?

"What?" he asked, looking over at her.

"Nothing," she said, smiling weakly. Roth was walking towards them, Ms. Mitsumi and Ms. Garry in tow. On the sidelines, she could see Dave and Adam being tended to by Meg Pasternak. She hoped she hadn't hurt Dave too badly.

"So, looks like Weston and Dave win this round," Roth announced, dipping his head to Weston. Rene nodded in silent agreement. There was no doubt in her mind that she had just been outclassed. Badly.

"Both teams fought very well," Ms. Mitsumi said, smiling at Rene. Rene wanted to smile back, but couldn't bring herself to. She was still trying to recover from what had just happened.

"I agree," Roth said, his blonde head bobbing. "I'm very proud of both of you." He clapped both Rene and Weston on the shoulders, then turned to where Dave and Adam were sitting. Meg gave a thumbs up to the teacher, eliciting a broad smile from the man. "And no permanent harm done, it seems."

"All's well that ends well, Alex?" Ms. Garry asked, her smile taking on a cynical edge.

"I don't know what you mean, Rowan," Roth replied, chuckling darkly. Rene found herself wondering what the teachers would have done if one of the students had been seriously injured during the fight. It was something she had considered, but she assumed that the teachers would stop things before they got out of hand.

Now, however, she wasn't so sure they would have. The thought frightened her almost as much as her realization about Weston.

"Come on," Weston said, leading her by the elbow back to the sidelines. "Let's sit down. You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," she said. Looking up into his eyes, she realized they both knew that was a lie.

=========================================

 

[Gendou]

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Good Enough
28 January 2006

January 9th, 2001

"I'm sorry to hear you won't be returning," Pryce said, steepling his fingers. "Of course, we understand."

"Thank you, sir," Susie replied, crossing her hands serenely across her pregnant belly. Hobson slipped an arm protectively around his wife.

"I'll still remain as an instructor, of course," he said. "We'd hoped to continue living in the habitat."

"That goes without saying," Pryce replied. What also went without saying was that Pryce would prefer to have the Murdoch family where he could keep an eye on them.

"We're grateful for that," Hobson said, dipping his head in acknowledgement. Pryce nodded in return, then folded his hands in front of him, a clear sign that the conversation was finished. Pulling Susie against him, Hobson hustled her out of the office.

Once they were outside and walking toward the habitats, he turned to her. "You're sure you want to stay on campus? We can get an apartment in town..."

"Our baby will go to school here, Hobson," she murmured, stroking her stomach. Hobson nodded, still in shock over the results from the amniocentesis. Their child was an Aberrant. For two Aberrants to have a child was a rare thing. For the child to also be an Aberrant themselves was very nearly unheard of.

"I know, but still..." He left his concerns unvoiced.

"We need to be here," Susie said softly, touching her husband's arm. "We need to be here, not just for our child, but for other, more important reasons." She smiled encouragingly. Hobson nodded, sighing softly as they walked into the lobby of the primary Habitat enclosure. She always knew just what to say. It was one of the many reasons he loved her. It was one of the many reasons he had married her.

But he still couldn't help but wonder if he was damning their child to a life of servitude to the Mundanes by remaining under the watchful, paternal gaze of Ephraim Pryce. He hoped not. He prayed not. Because if he were, he would never forgive himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 9, 2017

"Are you coming to the mall?" Adam asked, picking up his backpack from the bottom bunk.

"Who's driving?" Dave asked, glancing up from his book.

"We're going to take the bus," Marty said.

"No friends with a car?" Dave grinned, looking down on the others from the top bunk.

"Only every other weekend," Adam said, smirking.

"C'mon," Evan urged from the doorway. "They aren't going to wait for us."

Adam tossed the backpack over his shoulder, still gripping the strap as he walked out the door. Marty rolled his eyes and followed.

Dave sighed and rolled off bunk, landing lightly on his feet. He slipped into a pair of loafers next to the door and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.

It was nine in the morning on a Saturday, and most of the student body was sleeping in. As he trudged down the corridor after his friends, he wondered why more people weren't going to the mall. After pondering it, he voiced the question.

"The base makes several runs a day to the mall - usually about one an hour between eight and eight," Adam said.

"That's really nice of them," Dave said, surprised.

"Most people on the base are pretty cool. People who don't like Aberrants usually get reassigned pretty quickly," Marty said.

"You seem to know a lot about it," Dave said.

"Evan's brother works on base," Marty replied. "That's why he can only use the car every other weekend."

"Ah."

The four boys piled into the lift and headed for the upper level of the dorm. The sun was already high in the sky when they stepped outside, and the bus was just pulling up in front of the dorms. A couple of people got off, but most of the crowd was waiting to board. Noting Fred, Wyndi and Meg among those waiting, Marty grinned. "This is going to be fun."

. . . . .

"Do you understand the damage you've done?" Hobson hissed. Cal flinched away from his father's anger. His father had never struck him, but he still feared the man's wrath.

"I wasn't thinking," Cal whispered tightly.

"Damned right," Hobson snapped. He paced backwards and forwards in front of the kitchen table, his eyes blazing. Cal sat with his arms folded on the table, unable to take his eyes off his father. Shaking his head, Hobson stopped pacing and glared at his son. "This will have lasting repercussions, Calvin."

"Oh, Cal," Susie sighed, her fingers fluttering on her chest like a dying dove. "Why?"

"I'm so sorry," Calvin cried, feeling himself on the verge of tears. His father's anger frightened him, but his mother's disappointment shook him to his very core. "I would never do anything to hurt the cause."

"The cause?" Hobson stopped his pacing and whirled on his son. "The cause?" His hands slammed into the table with a crack that made Cal jump. "Is that what you think I'm upset about?" He shook his head in mock disbelief, then narrowed his eyes to glare penetratingly at his only son. "You tried to kill another person, Calvin!"

"I wasn't thinking!" Cal knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

"You must always be thinking, god damn it!" Hobson hissed. "If I'm 'not thinking' when I go to the gas station, I could level a city block. Do you think 'oh, I was upset, I wasn't thinking,' would be a valid defense for something like that?"

Cal wondered if the flames he saw in his father's eyes were only his imagination. "Dad, I..."

"No, you listen to me. You are someone with an amazing talent that only a small percentage of the worldwide population is fortunate enough to share. But along with that talent comes the responsibility to learn how to control your talent, and how to control yourself."

"I'm sorry." Cal broke down, sobbing. He felt his mother's hand stroking his back. He looked up at his parents, their features blurred by the tears in his eyes. "If I could take it back, I would. All of it."

Hobson's expression softened. "I know you would, Cal. But this is life. You don't get to take things back. There are consequences for actions. Real consequences." He turned a chair around and sat down across from Cal, his arms resting on the back of the chair. "I'm taking some time off from work, son."

Cal's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because while you're suspended, and for a little while after, we need to concentrate on your self-control." Hobson's smile became slightly predatory. "We're going to be doing some intensive one-on-one training."

Cal felt a chill run up his back. Consequences indeed. He knew what his father considered to be intensive training. He only hoped he were up to the task. And that he would survive the week.

=========================================

 

[Gendou]

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