The next morning saw me in a chopper, chewing on a half-frozen pop-tart in one hand while trying to light a cancer stick in the other; it was too bad the thing was one of those open door military kind.

Across from me, Doc DeStayne looked on with amusement and saluted me with her coffee. It would be easy to light up from her seat, but no, I had to be buckled in facing the front for some reason. For some reason, in the middle of the night, she had changed her mind about us going to Whateley, setting up some sort of emergency meeting and even calling in the military for a ride. She had more pull than most doctors, that was for sure.

"You okay, Vicky?" Stupid helmets and their built-in mics. I liked her better quiet.

"Not a morning person. And call me Vicky again and die some," Why even bother asking me my opinion if you're going to ignore it?

"Well, at least you won't kill me all the way. Fine, Vic then. Or Victoria, since the male form of your name will raise questions in public."

"Doc, you got a P.H.D. in rubbing things in or what?"

"Of course not, that's simply a hobby," was her reply. a pretty good one, I admit.

Of course, I hadn't had enough coffee or nicotine for the snark. The doc had hustled me into clothes and out the door so fast I couldn't snag a cup, so she was already on thin ice.

"How long is this flight, anyway?" I already knew she wouldn't tell me where we were going.

"It won't be long; a few hours." The Doc answered.

A little more vague than I'd have liked, but the best I'd get probably. This place was pretty hush-hush for a school, even a rumored mutant school. Whatever, it wasn't something I needed to worry about. Somehow I had to figure out how to make people like me, and that was more than enough; I wasn't the most likable fellow in the world.

The ride itself was nice, zooming low over forests and farms, going up to go through or around cities and towns, a few of which I might have recognized, doing a little dance no doubt required by the FAA or whoever was in charge of the not so friendly skies now.

It was kind of like how I'd heard flying over Nam described, come to think of it. I could see the appeal now; too bad my power wasn't flying.

Then again, if it had been, I'd be dead or a coward - which was pretty much the same thing. Nah, it was too soon to give my actual power a pass; maybe not ever. Or maybe I would once I understood just what the hell it was. A voice that tells me how to fight, and more. The little girl thing was beyond weird, and I'm not sure I wanted it to make sense. 

I also wasn't sure how this school would react once I figured out how to change back since I wasn't really school age. The doc had said it wasn't a college or trade school, and that meant I was a bit old.

There was only so much I could look around and thinks about things, and I still couldn't light a cigarette. so I did the next best thing and went back to sleep. It took more effort than I thought, and I had to settle for a light doze that the Doc got more and more pissed off about; a nice bonus.

The change in pitch as we landed snapped me out of it; we were setting down at a small airfield in the middle of nowhere, USA. Nowhere USA had a lot of trees and one thin dirt track that looked way too uneven for the limo that seemed to be waiting for us. At least it was a small limo, minus the little flags and stuff the one yesterday had; nothing like not attracting attention.

I unbuckled and ducked down to leave the chopper before I realizing how stupid I looked; I was probably the last one that needed to duck to leave this bird. Just looking at the doc's grin as she crouched next to me drove that home.

"Just shut it," I told her, even though she couldn't hear me with the helmet off. Her grin widened.

The humorless statue of a guy in military fatigues threw my new bag at me; I plucked it out of the air and gave him a wave; I'd forget that pos yet. I didn't understand why I needed all this crap anyway, I mean, the jeans had pockets, why couldn't I just use those? I hated not having my hands free.

The Doc wiggled her purse at me as I caught up, but didn't say anything, which was good for her. I finally got the chance to light up once the chopper was far enough up, and I wasted no time. I blew smoke rings after it. It was kind of hard since my mouth was smaller.

The Doc golf clapped. "Now, get in the car please."

"One minute," I told her. "It's been all morning, and I know you don't want me blowing smoke in your car. So just be patient."

She fumed a little as her heels cooled, but I couldn't really care less. Maybe next time she'd wake me up with a bit more time to get ready.

She'd given up the heel tapping in favor of waiting out of the dust by the time I finished my last drag; I stubbed the butt out and pocketed it before joining her; this looked like the kind of place people tried to take care of, which meant I didn't want to be the one screwing it up.

There was a mini-fridge, and the good doctor had already grabbed a tea; I opened it up and snagged a water.

It was ice cold and went down easy, and tasted funny.

"It's filtered, bottled water, no fun little additives like you find in most small town water supplies," the doc told me.

I placed the empty in the cup holder. "That's great but I didn't ask."

The Doc grinned again. "No, but the little face you made was adorable. Pretty easy to deduce the cause."

Whatever.

The drive over the river and through the woods wasn't a long one, but there was no house at the end. Instead, after making our way to a small paved road, the driver stopped us in front of some big honking gates. I could feel something was off, here. It was a zing in the air, and a metal taste on the tongue. It started out faint, but got worse in a hurry once the guard checked our papers and let us pass.

As soon as we hit the parking lot, my gut tightened and the voice went from a barely heard whisper to a near shout. 

There were kids all around me, and every single one of them had a story. A story I didn't need to see to hear, it seemed. Shut up, voice - just shut up. You'll get no blood today.

"You alright?" The Doc asked, leaning down at me, blotting out the sun.

"Just peachy. Let's do this."

The Doc stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "No, this is important - tell me."

Fine. "The voice just cranked up to eleven, all at once. There are people here, I know they are kids and know how strong they are, and what they can do. I know what they can do, and I know how to beat them.. and it's a lot to take in, all at once."

The Doc rose back up, blocking my sun, a finger to her lips. "Hm, something to do with the wards, perhaps? You didn't sense it before now?"

What wards? Did she mean actual magical wards? Wait, she did. some poor bastard nearby was an actual mage; I guess you really did learn something new every day, I thought that all the magic talk was just so much BS.

"No, I just sensed you."

"How many do you sense now?" the doc asked, already turning away. 

My next word made her stop. "Hundreds, I think."

She 'hmm'd again, looking back at me. Her voice was so uninterested it had to be practiced. "Impressive range and it explains a few things. Tell me, can you identify which is which? Which person has what powers?"

"Not from here, I can't see them. I just sort of know where they are."

"And what's this voice of yours telling you to do?"

I lit up, a bit to piss off the doc, but mainly to take the edge off. "Beat them, mostly. It's telling me how to bust heads. Not that I need any advice on that or anything."

The Doc leaned down again. "Of course not. Got it under control?"

I nodded. I did, at least for now. In the near future, who could say?

My hand was grabbed, and the Doc started dragging me. "Come along then."

Ten steps in, I realized this was a mistake; there were even more kids here than I thought. How big was this school? I was expecting something smaller. We got within sight range, and yes, these were teens. Teens that were looking at the Doc and I as if we were the odd ones. I took another drag, and that got noticed too. Whatever, they could mind their own business.

There were even students under us. And those kids in that building there... wow. Poor bastards, their powers screwed them over. Was that one a... werewolf? Weird.

The Doc dragged me into a building I assumed held the offices just as I made the rent a cop detail following us at a distance while trying hard not to appear to be following us. 

Once we were inside, the Doc let go of my hand. I took advantage of that by lighting another cancer stick, ignoring the no smoking signs. The stern gazes and dislike was the easier thing to deal with. Sweet crap, even some of the adults around here had powers!

We set off down the hall; the Doc seemed to know where to go. Where to go turned out to be past a hot blonde that all but screamed judgment with the way she was looking down at me. She looked maybe a bit young to be this "Ms. Hartford, assistant Headmistress." the name tag on her desk declared her to be.Our eyes met, and something in my head stirred; I just knew, that I didn't need to do anything special to take her.

Then she looked from me to the Doc, and her sour expression got worse if anything. The Doc just grinned back wider.

"Doctor DeStayne," frost could have gathered on the words.

"Ms. Hartford. Is Mrs. Carson in?"

"Of course she is - the general in your pocket was most insistent."

Arm twisting; I knew it had happened, but this lady seemed to take it personally.

"Well, we are five minutes early - so..."

"Just... go right in. Please." Wow, she was actually grinding her teeth. I wonder what the history between these two was.

"There is no smoking in this building."

I sucked in the remains of my current cigarette - and blew out into the hot blonde's face. She hadn't really given me much cause to like her. To her credit, she took it. "Charming. Victoria, was it?"

Oh, she knew. Or suspected, at least. "Yeah."

"Enjoy your visit." That wasn't a smile - too many teeth showing.

The Doc made a grab for my hand, but I dodged her and opened the door to the office we were clearly going in.

Woof. Inside the office was something I'd been feeling in my skull, but opening the door made the feeling slap me in the face; power, and a lot of it. Experience, and a lot of it. She didn't look that much older than her blonde friend outside, and she looked about as hot, but I knew she was older... much older than she appeared. She was tired and strong. What was the word? 

Unyielding, that was it.

"Doctor DeStayne, a pleasure to see you again." Her name tag thing read 'Mrs. Carson'. Mrs/ Carson did not sound as if it was a pleasure to see the Doc again, but she did at least hide it better.

The Doc, for her part, finally wiped the grin off her face and approached, going right past me and holding out a hand. "Mrs. Carson, so good to see you again."

Mrs. Carson turned to me again, and again something flopped in my head as our eyes met. I couldn't really stop the wince. "And you must be Victoria Smith. I'm pleased to meet you, but wish it was under better circumstances."

"Thanks. Nice to meet you too." She had a firm grip; it wasn't crushing, but she wasn't going easy on me either. Yeah, she knew too. I guess it made sense, seeing as how she was the one clearly in charge here; and not the expected military puppet.

It would save time, which was good. It was very good, but probably not good enough. I made sure the door was shut. 

"Take a seat," Mrs. Carson said. "Would you like anything? Coffee, tea, water... "

"No, thanks." The Doc and I both chorused. 

Then I thought better of it. "Got an ashtray?"

I got a gimlet stare in return. "This is a non-smoking establishment."

Yeah, no. "Right, I get that. But trust me, you're going to want to let me smoke while I'm here; it takes the edge off."

"The edge?" she asked me.

"I assume you know at least a little of what they say I can do. Well, it's kind of like a... voice, and a pressure."

She kept staring at me for a minute before opening a drawer and sliding a battered ashtray across her desk at me.

"So what does this voice tell you, Victoria?"

Damn it that wasn't my name. I lit up and collected my thoughts in the smoke. "I don't know how to sugarcoat this, so I won't/ It tells me how to beat you. All of you - everyone here. It tells me things about you, strengths, weaknesses, what you can do, what you won't think to do... it's not really a voice either, but that's the only way I can describe it. It's more like...."

I groped for the word, and it came. "It's like instinct."

More staring from across the desk. "I see. Doctor DeStayne stated you were like another mutant of some renown; a powers copier."

Then the Doc lied. She had to know it wasn't like that. "It ain't that simple. Like right now, the voice or thing or whatever it is has told me at least 6 ways that I can beat you if we throw down. Nothing certain, but if we go at it. I can pick the powers to best do the job, and they ain't the same, from plan to plan. My thing is taking all your skill, power, and experience into account and coming up with ways to win, and it does that for everybody.

"I see. And this pressure you mentioned - you feel compelled to act on the information your power provides, don't you?"

It felt good to tell the truth, even if I was screwing myself doing it. "Kind of. It's more that being around people who I know can take me in a fight makes me twitchy. The cigs help me relax that some."

"And how many people like that can you feel?"

"All of them, I think. Its hard to say, but there are hundreds of powered people here; some of them are too weak, but some are pretty strong. Maybe even stronger than you."

Mrs. Carson tried to stare me down again. "I see. I do not think Whateley would be a good fit for you, for a variety of reasons. One, we are a high school; neither your apparent age or your biological age are catered to here."

Oh yeah, she knew.

"Second, making allowances for you would mean making allowances for schoolkids based on flimsy logic; we could make a case for your habit being medical, but there will always be some kids who will object and cause problems. I'm not inclined to allow you that crutch in any case, which leads to my third problem, and perhaps the worst."

Well, at least she was admitting it was her.

"The third problem is we don't have and can't spare the facilities and personnel to give you the counseling you need. You're a walking time bomb, Miss Smith, and I don't want you exploding near my students."

Harsh, but fair. I wasn't a kid, and wouldn't fit in here. Beating up a bunch of stupid kids didn't appeal to me either.

The Doc opened her mouth. "That last issue of yours is a pure fabrication; you have Bellows."

"Dr. Bellows is good, but against this? Her power itself seeks conflict," Mrs. Carson countered. "Can you honestly say, at this school, the worst won't happen if I say yes?"

The Doc was silent... but her grin was back. "I can't and you know it. Can you loan us Bellows then, at least?"

"That would be up to Dr. Bellows. I have no problem with him working with Miss Smith, but any patients he takes would be in addition to his work here. You may ask him of course, but I think it best for all parties involved if Miss Smith be escorted off the property as soon as possible to avoid any unpleasantness."

I wanted to object, but I really couldn't. Something could happen while I was here; it wasn't safe for me to be here, for me or the kids.

"Can I just ask him? He's here, right?" Way to sound desperate, Doc.

"No. He's currently busy with patients, and I've already granted you the fair hearing my investors demanded. Please leave."

I was standing up before she finished, but the Doc wasn't quite convinced. "Just five more minutes, Liz. Vic, wait for me outside a bit, and try not to get into trouble?"

Everyone thinking the worst of me was beginning to get old; I had it together, mostly. Mrs. Carson's eyes narrowed and her lips tightened.

"Fine," I stubbed my cigarette out and closed the door. "No hard feelings, Ma'am."

......

Emilia turned to her former principal, unable to hide her glee anymore. "I won this round, you know."

"I've no idea what you mean," Elizabeth Carson replied, looking as if she were sucking on a bucket of lemons. 

"Victor needed access to mutants in order to grow. He could only manage to use powers he has been exposed to; a weakness of what I'm calling 'adaptive mimicry'. No power exposure, no options."

"I knew I shouldn't have allowed you on the grounds," Carson said, voice dripping frost. "So now what, you enroll him in the military option?"

Emilia shrugged, "If he wants it. He's already turned down the military once. But I don't have the resources you do Liz, and I had to protect him somehow. Remember that when you're judging me later. The Omega man isn't someone just anyone can take on after all, and Victor is right in his crosshairs."

"You have a point. But it's time for you to leave."

"See you at the next donor's drive Liz."

"Not if I see you first."

Emilia smiled. "Petty; I like it."

Emilia left with a jaunty extra swing in her step; before the door closed Elizabeth heard her tell her new charge to "Put that down, we're leaving." She counted a full five minutes to the second, a young Charlie Chaplin phased into existence by her side.

"Well?"

"Running all that interference gave me a headache, but I think Miss Smith will be pleased by the results, and I know I'll be happy not to share my tank with her. The things crowded enough already."

Mrs. Carson raised an eyebrow. "That bad? Truly?"

"I had to mask several of our stronger students, or the poor thing would have pinged off them. I THINK the 'if you can't beat them, join them' aspect - and yes, that's a definite aspect of her power - I think it only works inside of a fight, but some of us present might be strong enough to trigger the response anyway. I don't think it's worth the risk, so I spoofed her. She likely did whatever it was she does to get copies of our power, but neither she nor her power realized what I was doing."

The projection bowed, and waddled a little, before staring off into space... in the direction of Hawthorne. "Incidentally, she really is wound as tight as she said she is. I could feel the struggle, but she's holding it like a champ. If I can feel the stress, even when not looking for it, it's strong. She's clearly not in full control."

"I'll talk to Bellows, perhaps we can arrange a deal with ARC. Miss Smith will be close enough if she can be convinced she needs the help."

"You knew somehow."

"I suspected," Elizabeth Carson countered. "The incident in Texas was more public than Miss DeStayne was aware of. Omega Man is just dangerous enough to pose a major threat."

"Who is Omega Man, anyway? He isn't listed in any file I have, even the black ones."

"He wouldn't be. He's a ghost, and an old one. He was iced before you were born. He was unusually skilled at going underground, and it seems he might have kept that knack to present day."

Charlie Chaplin shuddered. "And Smith looks like that? Ewwwwwww."

"Quite."

Charlie Chaplin tipped his hat. "Good luck to her then. Perhaps we can arrange something once Smith gets control. What about DeStayne?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Let her think she's gotten one over on us - on me."

"So she will be more likely to grant concessions in the future when we bring it up? I like the way you think. Also, Elvis has left the building, and I can finally relax."

Charlie Chaplin vanished.

Elizabeth Carson reached down into her desk for the small bottle of bourbon kept within. She offered a silent toast to the young man, a plea for luck - and then went back to wrestling with the budget figures for the quarter.