Virgil Cooper cranked the steering wheel to bring his garbage truck off the main road and onto the gravel driveway leading up to Whateley Academy. The snow had delayed him since the roads were a mess, and he’d lost time helping push a stuck car out of the ditch.

He looked at the imposing entrance gates and swore that each and every time he passed by those freaky gargoyles … their eyes followed the trucks passage - and then their noses twitched when the smell wafted past them.

Coop recalled that day when Cameron had first suggested an arrangement: that he’d empty the garbage bins, in return of a favour, it made Coop’s hair stand on end. This school had made it clear that no smuggling would be tolerated! But having an emaciated kid asking for food … even now - the boy looked like he needed a good ten pounds on him just so there was some meat on his bones.

On principle alone Coop would have fed the kid, but he’d talked to his supervisor: Albert, about the situation. It was Dunwich’s Mayor himself that directed Coop to bring the boy any food he asked for, it was being paid for out of Dunwich’s petty cash - as well, a rotating schedule for something special to be sent was established. Last week Coop’s wife had wrapped up a slice of apple pie, today the mayor slipped in a couple rhubarb muffins along with a note.

A smile drew across the man’s face, this arrangement which had worried him so much, had actually freed up much of his day, he’d been able to get to all of his son’s football and basketball games, he’d even been able to take on being the team’s assistant coach.

As if on cue, Cameron met the garbage truck, the boy waved towards Coop, as the man brought the truck to a stop, hopping up onto the truck’s running board Cameron brandished a huge smile.

~o~O~o~

Samantha Everhart watched from her hiding spot as the garbage truck approached the dumpsters. She had observed the driver hand off a package to a student a couple days ago and after reviewing security tapes, she was shocked to find that this drop had been happening for a number of months.

Elizabeth Carson had tasked the security officer to curtail the drug trafficking on campus, since the start of the school year the amount of illicit drug and alcohol use at the school had been rampant, Sam was given cart-blanc to put a stop to it.

The retired Admiral had discovered that designer drugs were as easy to obtain on campus as candy. However, by tracking down the suppliers for known addicts - she had uncovered an entire distribution network After interrogations she’d found where a concealed manufacturing lab had been established in the tunnels.

That coup had put a major dent in the availability of drugs, and inspired the Admiral to find other dealers … however Whateley Security was presently short staffed with many taking time off to be with family, but she rounded up a few men and they had been staked out for a short time before she witnessed the drop.

Sam Everhart moved silently in the snow, it helped muffle any sound, she came up fast behind the boy, grabbing the bag from out of his hand. She shouted at him: “Don’t Move!”

The kid was surprised and let out, “What? Hey! Thats mine,” and started to turn around.

Sam reached out and grabbed the boys shoulder in a firm grip … it felt like getting hit by a ton of bricks.

Hive began to falter, it sent out warnings and alarms triggered by a critical power failure, emergency protocols were enacted, Sam’s vision alternated between red and normal for only a second before she blacked-out.

Contact had been made - the nanites that comprised Samantha Everhart’s body suddenly became inactive as the energy empowering them instantly discharged. The security officers arm melted away as the nanites lost cohesion, it looked like falling sand coming out of her sleeve. The rest of her body seized up making her fall backwards into the snow, and she lay stiff and unmoving - Hive struggled to stay alive with what little power remained.

Security Officer Coltrain approached from behind the boy who had astonishingly dropped the Admiral so fast he hadn’t seen what he’d done to her. One thing for certain: this kid had hurt one of Whateley’s own - and what ever he had used on Sam had Coltrain scared. The boy was on his knees beside Sam - her arm was disintegrating - he was still attacking her - the kid needed to be stopped before he did more damage!

Coltrain crept up silently in the snow and raised his baton, his strike was aimed at the back of the kids head and Coltrain hit him as hard as he could, it was a satisfying result to see the kid slump to the ground and not make a move.

Doyle Medical Centre

Medics rushed the stretcher carrying one of Securities own into Doyle Centre’s admitting area. The on duty doctor stepped up and asked for details taking note of the pertinent facts, as he began to check for the officers vital signs - he was confused as he couldn’t find anything to help determine this victims condition. He directed she be moved immediately into Trauma Room One, and everyone’s focus shifted into critical mode.

A second stretcher brought in another patient: an unconscious boy, a quick call to Hawthorne Cottage alerted Dr Cho that he was needed at Doyle. The school’s hospital was running with a skeleton staff - two emergencies taxed the limited resources who had volunteered to stay over the holidays.

~o~O~o~

The medical professionals were stymied: Sam was by all means and measure a machine, she didn’t rely upon lungs for oxygen, didn’t have a circulatory system, they couldn’t even tell if she was cold. The level of frustration over the lack of progress was climbing until expressed in a snide comment, “Why bring her here? She should have been taken to a garage!” As hurtful as that thought was - it did spark the notion to check and see if her ‘gas tank’ was empty.

Looking into the retired Admirals staff file, it detailed her food requirements. Once that was sourced and a feeding tube inserted into her stomach, Hive began to make a slow recovery.

~o~O~o~

Dr. Cho was sure he’d seen this boy over at Hawthorne Cottage, but just couldn’t place him.
The doctor had taken scans of the boys head, the blow to the back of his head had cracked his skull and surrounding brain tissue showed a large contusion, undoubtedly why he was unconscious.

The severity of the injury: that it could cause lasting even permanent damage required he contact Child Services, Dr. Cho placed the call to the Child Welfare hotline.

Whateley’s Front Gate: December 20, 2007

The New Hampshire State Trooper cruiser pulled up to the school’s check-point at the front gate, the policeman inside rolled down the window and gave the man in the booth a nod in greeting.

“Howdy Arthur. We got a report that you’ve arrested a couple drug dealers. I’ve come to take them to Berlin.”

“I’ll let Kane Hall know you’re here,” instructed the guard as he hit the switch to open the impressive gates.

Entering security’s reception area Trooper Miller added himself onto the days log, and shook Officer Trews hand in greeting.

“This is your second arrest in as many weeks, you guys trying to clean up this one horse town?” joked the trooper.

“Sam Everhart has been hellbent curtailing the flow of drugs on campus,” supplied the security officer taking a military stance.

“What have you got for me?” inquired the policeman.

“The mule is the garbage man from Dunwich: Virgil Cooper, no priors. He’s been making drops while on campus to a kid who would distribute. They got caught red handed during an exchange.”

“Sounds straight forward enough.”

“The kid pulled something on Sam, she was taken to Doyle, the scuttlebutt is she’s been hurt bad.”

“She going to make it?”

“Don’t know,” an obvious point of worry for the man, “But there’s plenty of security footage going back nearly 3 months. Sam has it all prepared in a report, we’ve also got the intercepted package in evidence lock-up.”

“I’ll load the evidence into my car first, then I can take the prisoners off your hands,” decided Trooper Miller.

When the Trooper returned into Kane Hall he asked, “What do you know about the kid?”

“He’s a bit of a mystery to be honest: doesn’t show up in the system - he isn’t a student here, but Sam was able to uncover camera footage of him receiving two to three shipments a week. We suspect he was planted here to sell drugs,” informed the security officer.

“Got a name?”

“His prints aren’t coming up on any database.”

“Sure sounds like a plant,” the policeman admitted. “Bring in some unknown to do the dirty work,” reasoned the Trooper. “Everything ready for me to take custody?”

“Mr. Cooper is in a cell in the back, haven’t heard a peep out of him. The boy resisted arrest, we have him over at Doyle getting checked over,” responded security officer Trews.

The holding area was silent, resting quietly in the first cell they could see Mr. Cooper; he was sitting on his cot and just barely lifted his head to acknowledge that someone was coming towards him, his gaze then returned to the vacant - dejected look it previously held.

“Mr Cooper; it would seem your in a world of trouble,” spoke Miller while Trews unlocked the cell. The Trooper motioned the man to stand and turn around, after which handcuffs were placed on his wrists.

“From my point of view: it would appear there’s a whole lot of trouble in the world, and this school is up to its neck in it,” remarked Coop.

“I’m sure the Judge will want to hear all about it,” affirmed Trooper Miller.

~o~O~o~

Trooper Miller left Whateley with his prisoner: Virgil Cooper, only after ensuring that the captured boy was secured at the hospital. The attending physician convinced him that the boy shouldn’t be moved, and the policeman agreed on the condition the boy be handcuffed and a guard be posted outside his room.

Leaving the school, the Trooper tried to ignore Mr. Cooper’s pleading questions about the boy’s condition. He only replied that he was in the care of a doctor.

The men didn’t converse on the drive to Berlin, however about five minutes out Mr. Cooper asked: “Why did they arrest Cameron?”

Miller asked, “Who’s Cameron?”

Mr. Cooper tsk’ed, then replied, “What kind of slack-assed school is that anyways? You’re saying they don’t even know his name?”

“You have something for me?”

“Cameron … Burke!”

“Where’d you pick him up from?”

“Lawyer!” was the last word Mr. Cooper would say.

Shuster Hall

The student worker who had to remain at Whateley over break called out: “Ms. Claire! Maintenance just reported that a detentionee failed to show up. They’re worried about him.”

“Who?” asked Claire: the second-in-command administrator, left to ‘hold down the fort’ during the holidays.

“Cameron Burke, Ma’am; goes by Outlook.”

“Can you find out what dorm he’s in? I’ll call to see if they can check up on him.”

“On it,” was said in response to the direction given, a brief interval ensued as records were reviewed on the computer database before calling out: “Ms. Claire! There’s something odd about maintenance’s missing student.”

“What did you find?”

“There’s no record of him having a cottage assignment.”

The proverbial light bulb flashed above Claire’s head, “Ask the guys at maintenance to send someone over to Doyle who knows Outlook, maybe we can get a positive ID on their John Doe.”

~o~O~o~

Within minutes of Security hanging up the phone after talking with State Trooper Miller, they had confirmation from Admin that the youth they’d arrested was named Cameron Burke.

As the name was circulated around the office, one man called out, “I know him!”

Trews sought details.

“He comes in everyday like clockwork and signs into the day’s log,” responded the desk attendant.

“Why would he do that?” questioned Trews.

“He’d said a couple times that Mrs. Carson required it of him, I never questioned why.”

“Maybe she knew he was a bad egg,” stated Officer Trews.

Whateley Academy’s Front Gate: Friday, December 21, 2007.

Two vehicles drove up to the dormant schools front gate, after a brief interaction with the security guard attendant he opened the entrance for them. The vehicles parked in the lot beside Schuster Hall; the first car was one of New Hampshire’s State Police cruisers, followed by one of the MCO’s black four door ‘ghost’ cars which had no visible identification, but still - at a glance, every mutant alive knew exactly who it was.

The two police officers stopped on the walkway, waiting for the MCO agent to join them before they all proceeded into the school’s administration area. Stepping up to the admin counter the lead officer rang the bell, Ms. Claire quickly abandoned the work she was doing at her desk and approached the group asking: “May I help you?”

"We’re here to conduct an investigation into the illegal activities of a student. An Officer Trews notified us of an incident and suggested we could make use of a meeting space, and the possibility of having access to members of the school’s faculty and records,” requested the senior police officer.

“Certainly,” replied Ms. Claire. “Mrs. Shugendo: the dean of students was alerted to your needs. I can show you to our conference room, and let her know you’re here.”

The different organizations representatives had only just taken seats at the table when Mrs. Shugendo entered the room.

“Good Morning, I’m Michiko Shugendo, Whateley’s Dean of Students. I’m afraid that our school is presently running with a skeleton staff. Most students and many staff have left for the holidays. However, our Security department tried to for-warn me regarding your needs. I hope I can be of assistance.”

“Thank you Mrs Shugendo; I am Detective Roberts of the New Hampshire State Police, joining me is deputy Atkins. Observing our inspection and acting as a court appointed advisor is Mrs. Grace Winslow from the MCO.”

“Isn’t having advisors somewhat irregular?”

“It wouldn’t be normally required; but considering that Whateley is not a ‘regular’ school, it was deemed necessary to have some knowledgeable assistance to ensure a thorough investigation is conducted.”

“I must be honest: having the MCO on campus may prove to be very disruptive.”

“That was taken into consideration, and why we have fast tracked our visit - we understood there would be a limited number of students present.”

“Most considerate,” commented Mrs Shugendo, “What sort of records can I get for you?”

“We would like to see anything you have on Cameron Burke: anything that might indicate behaviour problems - has he receiving any counselling, any documentation about being a troublemaker.”

Grace Winslow asked, “Would your file have a copy of his MID, and powers testing results?”

“You’re asking for personal and confidential information, I believe a warrant is required for me to release such details.”

Unfolding a paper, Detective Roberts set it on the table pushing it over to Mrs Shugendo, “Signed by Judge Stone, giving us authority to conduct an unfettered investigation.”

After confirming the document Mrs Shugendo acquiesced, “I need to ensure the safety of our students above all else. Thank you.” Rising from the table she walked to the entrance but announced before exiting, “I’ll get someone working on that information for you.”

The administrator returned to the room a few minutes later, “This is most embarrassing, so far we’ve only uncovered some very incomplete records for him,” admitted a flustered Mrs. Shugendo. Onto the table was placed a paper file folder sporting the name Burke.

“We’ll need to see what you have.”

Mrs Shugendo set out pages neatly in front of herself, reading out, “His application, a copy of his acceptance letter, a letter acknowledging tuition payment, and his student account balance. Plus a curious medical statement originating from Doyle Medical Centre confirming that Cameron Burke is alive.

The administrator held the last document in her hands, it was a notarized and sealed document boldly stamped in red: ‘Personal and Confidential’. Looking at the officers and the agent seated at the table she revealed, “We are not authorized to read this - I would like it noted that the seal is still intact.”

Jotting something into his record Detective Roberts stated, “So noted.”

Continuing; Mrs. Shugendo said, “Lastly, we have Cameron’s admittance form, dated on September 25th. I discovered that his original dormitory assignment was Poe Cottage, but that was crossed out and no other location is indicated.”

“Who would have prepared that admittance form?”

“Ms. Amelia Hartford, she’s our Assistant Headmistress.”

“Is she available for questioning?”

“Sorry - No. She is presently in Venice and mentioned she would be incommunicado.”

“And the Headmistress?” Checking his notes, “Elizabeth Carson.”

“Cabo San Lucas. Her resort told me she was deep sea fishing.”

“Is anyone available who might be familiar with the boy?”

“Stan gave a positive ID of him at Doyle, I believe I saw Stan working in the Crystal Hall a short while ago, I can see about getting him for you.”

“Officer Atkins, please see about finding ‘Stan’”.

~o~O~o~

The firm knock on the door announced Officer Atkins return, he held the door open for a tall but slight man wearing well worn and dirt encrusted coveralls.

“Mr. Stanley Lipscowycz; l.i.p.s.c.o.w.y.c.z.” introduced Atkins.

“Thank you for joining us Mr. Lipscowycz,” spoke Detective Roberts offering his hand.

“Stan is fine,” replied Mr Lipscowycz, wiping his hand on his coveralls before shaking the policeman’s hand.

“Alright Stan,” agreed Detective Roberts. “What can you tell us about a young man named Cameron Burke?” was asked as he offered the man a chair.

“Outlook! Sure enough: boy’s been a great help - gonna miss him,” stated the maintenance man. “When Outlook hadn’t shown up at the shop over the last couple days, we figured something wasn’t right. He’d asked about going home for the holidays, but when I was asked to identify him in Doyle … any word on who laid him up?”

“He’s been working for Maintenance?”

“Not technically, no. He’s been on detention, so it’s not like we paid him or anything.”

“Do you recall when he’d have started ‘helping’ you?”

“Let me see… definitely since the start of October - maybe late September? Mr. Duncan will have time cards for him.”

“How long does detention usually last?”

“Two - three weeks maybe, depends on how the Headmistress felt bout what they’d done.”

“Do you know what Mr. Burke had done - for him to be given three months of detention?”

“We’re not to ask the kids about it. They figure we might get a prejudice against students if we know why … we’re just to assign them some of the nastiest jobs; ‘shake em up a little’ - gives them something to think about.”

“What sort of jobs?”

“Send them down into the sewers mostly - it tends to change a persons view of the world.”

“How would you describe his work habits?”

“Hard worker, dependable, always showed up on time and put in a solid day. We’ve all commented that it’d be great to hire him on.”

“Are you familiar with any of Cameron’s associates?”

“He chummed around with Generator and Shroud some, he was friendly enough - but stuck to himself mostly.” He hemmed a moment before adding, “You might want to talk to Mr Geintz: I know he had talked with the boy some, seemed like a friendly enough relationship.”

“Anything else you can think of Stan?”

“He was alway helpful, didn’t give us any grief … Is Outlook in trouble?”

“I’m afraid so, he’s under arrest in Doyle.”

Stan took the news with a deep sigh. “He didn’t look none too good,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “Anything else you folks need?”

“That should do Stan, Thank you”

The maintenance man stood and gave his ball cap a tug as a farewell gesture.

Grace Winslow asked if Mr. Gientz could be questioned. She hadn’t even finished asking her request when a gentle knock on the open door preceded the entrance of a man dressed in a casual corduroy sports coat and faded jeans.

“Hello; I’m Louis Geintz. You had wanted to speak with me?”

“Thank you for coming Louis,” commented Mrs Shugendo unfazed by his sudden appearance.

“How is it you just happened to appear like that?” wondered Detective Roberts.

“I’m psychic, it would have been more of a surprise around here if I hadn’t shown up,” he remarked getting a laugh from Mrs Shugendo. “I gather you have questions about Outlook?”

“Yes, we’re hoping you might fill in some blanks?”

“I would be most happy to provide you with what I can - but honestly: Outlook is a bit of a mystery to me … I was just visiting him at Doyle after finding out about his condition.”

“Mr. Burke’s awake?”

“No, not yet!”

“But you know the boy?”

“Yes, we’ve had a few conversations when he has stopped by my accommodations.”

“Do you know where he has been staying while at Whateley?”

“I don’t! He never mentioned which cottage he was in.”

Mrs Shugendo was curious and asked the next question. “But Louis, you’re aware of everyone on campus, how can you not know?”

“Outlook has no psychic presence, it makes him one of the most challenging people for me to be aware of - he’s the first person in many a year that I have had to work at building a relationship with … it is both a frustrating and refreshing experience for me.“

MCO agent Winslow asked, “Explain no psychic presence?”

“Imagine not being able to see a person, they are invisible. To a psychic that is Outlook” informed Louis.

“That doesn’t align with the MCO’s information on him; it suggests a high level psychic.”

“He’s not! I tried a couple basic tests on him and found nothing to indicate psychic ability.”

“What are his abilities?” sought Mrs. Winslow.

“I cannot speak to that,” straightforwardly responded Fubar.

“Do you want it on record that you refused to answer a direct question?” needled the MCO agent.

“Yes, I think that would be wise, I don’t see how it is appropriate to ask a Psychic about someone he has no insight into, or an instructor about someone who isn’t one of his students. Also, I am not a powers theorist: so whatever I could give as an answer would be pure speculation.”

“Do you like him?” postulated Detective Atkins.

“I suppose I do: he’s very polite, resourceful and been most helpful,” supplied Louis.

“Is there anything about his character that makes you suspect he takes drugs?” put forward the Police Detective.

“I’m afraid I am unable to give you a good character assessment, my not being able to read his mind leaves me a touch blind - as I mentioned. Outlook has been the first person in a long while I have had to get to know without psychic assistance, it has been frustrating building a relationship … I am in wonder at how people do it,” remarked Louis. “But I don’t believe Cameron was ever impaired or suffering anything like drug withdrawal whenever we’ve talked.”

“Thank you Mr. Geintz, you may go,” granted Detective Roberts, and getting a disapproving stare from MCO agent Winslow after Fubar’s projection derezzed in-front of them.

“That’s it? You’re just going to let him go? That man is one of the most powerful psychic’s on record. He seems to know more about that kid than anybody else at this school!” Disparaged agent Winslow “Abisinthe claims that there are no such things as secrets around him.”

“He told us what he knew - relevant to our investigation, that you have another agenda is not my concern,” stated Detective Roberts. “What did Abisinthe have to say about Mr. Burke?”

“She read the MCO’s file on Outlook and mentioned its chock-full of inconsistencies, she believes he’s a wizard - but doesn’t attend any of her classes” informed the MCO representative. “You’re ignoring how dangerous this mutant is. An MCO alert warned me about how dangerous he is and will be moving to have this case turned over to us … he assaulted a law enforcement officer!” chastised Winslow.

“My investigation will only collect facts relevant to this case, it will not be based upon supposition and unsubstantiated claims,” cautioned Roberts.

“You can be certain Judge Stone is going to hear about this,” warned the MCO rep.

“That is your prerogative, We’re here to find out the boys story - not dissect him - or demonize him,” cautioned Roberts.

Officer Atkins spoke up. “May I suggest we next speak to the arresting officer, I imagine we’ll find her at the schools hospital.”

“I was told she was sent to convalesce at home. We can talk with her over at Kane Hall,”
detailed Mrs. Shugendo.

~o~O~o~

Samantha Everhart was reclined on the couch in her apartment, the clothes she wore only covered the upper portion of her arm, the elbow was visible - with it exposed it revealed she had no appendage below that. The Hive nanites were rebuilding the limb, but the process was taking time.

The Doctors at Doyle weren’t in a position to be of further help, but on doctor’s orders she was sent home and told to take it easy, drink plenty of moonshine and the other materials that the tiny robots needed to rebuild with.

The knock on her door brought her attention from the book she was reading. “Enter,” she called out.

The entourage of four filled her small apartment built into Kane Halls tower, three of her quests were familiar and Hive provided the names: Michiko Shugendo, Dean of Students, Grace Wilson - MCO, Absinthe’s liaise agent - Berlin office. Officer Rupert Atkins: State Trooper, asked for a date at the interdepartmental mixer; August 28th in Berlin. The fourth was not immediately identified so Hive began an analysis: State Police uniform, detective insignia, Roberts name tag.

It was Detective Roberts who began to speak, “Ms. Everhart …”

“Admiral”

“Admiral?”

“It is my rank; I’m retired,” mentioned Sam as she moved over to the kitchen area - the only place that had enough seats. She motioned for her guests to occupy the chairs available.

“Very well: Admiral Everhart. Can you please relate to us the events on December 19th, leading up to your injury and the arrests of Misters Cooper and Burke.”

“Whateley Academy has experienced an increase in illicit drug usage since the start of the current school year. Mrs Carson: the Headmistress, assigned me the task of finding the source of those drugs and curtailing it.

My investigation had already uncovered a drug ring that smuggled raw chemicals onto campus and utilized a lab which had been built in an obscured alcove in the tunnels. I was able to intercept a delivery to a known addict, and through interrogation was able to deconstruct the supply network thereby locating the manufacturing site and those responsible.

From that investigation I had spotted an anomaly in the security records which showed a student receiving packages from a supplier: As many as three times a week a garbage truck would arrive at the school. While the vehicle was onsite: interaction with an unknown courier and possible transfer of drugs was observed during a hand off.

I was unable to determine the scope of distribution network so focused upon that single point source. The individual receiving the shipments did not show up on the schools network: I am now to assume that Cameron Burke is that recipient?” The affirmative nods confirmed the suspicion.

“Without supporting documentation to account for this person to be present on campus” related Everhart after Hive checked the schools database. “The most plausible explanation remains supported by the drug dealing hypothesis.” The updated data filled a few gaps in Hives logic, and the report continued.

“Once the garbage collection schedule was established. I initially tailed the vehicle to personally observed a hand-off, to be followed with attempting to ascertain distribution contacts. While following the suspect the package disappeared and I was unable to determine who he’d handed the parcel to, hence could not establish any contacts or a distribution network.”

Observing that her narrative had proceeded too quickly for the police officers, she paused to let them catch up. “On the next scheduled garbage day, I approached during the transfer to arrest the culprits in the act of receiving contriband. As the person was an unknown entity - I had to assume a hostile situation. I relieved the person … Mr. Burke, of the package in his possession. When he failed to follow directions the situation escalated requiring use of force in making the arrest.”

“Can you describe what happened next?” requested the police detective.

“Upon making physical contact with the perpetrator, I experienced an instantaneous power depletion, emergency measures couldn’t enact in time to prevent critical failure resulting in a system degradation. Once sensory input was lost, I find I am unable to provide further details - until after basic functionality was restored while under the medical centre’s care.”

Roberts confirmed, “My office took possession of the evidence you’d intercepted, I’ve sent the package to the Boston Crime Lab for analysis. The garbage truck driver is waiting arraignment in Berlin, and once the lab boys have some hard facts we will proceed with laying charges. The boy who attacked you is under lock and key in Doyle receiving treatment until cleared for transfer to Berlin.”

“Speak with Officer Trews downstairs, he can provide you copies of video surveillance of the arrest, that area has two cameras trained on the exchange site.”

“Thank you Admiral,” mentioned Roberts. “Officer Atkins, head downstairs and get the footage, meet up with us over at the hospital: I want to talk with the Doctor.”

~o~O~o~

Dr. Cho had been deeply involved in a conversation, and he was disrupted by the knock on the small briefing rooms door. The room was mostly used for conferring with patients, so was private and suited the immediate need. Excusing himself, the doctor opened the door to see what was needed.

“Dr. Cho, reception told us we could find you here, I’m hoping to ask some questions about a patient of yours: Cameron Burke.”

“Then you’d better come in,” directed the physician. “I’m just explaining the situation to Mrs. Caruthers, Child Services sent her in response to my call.”

Standing the lady made introductions, “Sandra Caruthers: New Hampshire Office of Child Protective Services.”

“Detective Roberts, state police,” intoned the detective.

“MCO agent Grace Winslow,” gave the MCO representative.

“I’m glad you’re already here, my first impression is that we’re dealing with a serious case of child abuse. Dr. Cho was just describing the injuries sustained by Cameron Burke,” advised Mrs Caruthers.

“It appears we’re working the same case from different angles, I was not aware the boy was being physically threatened to push drugs.”

“That adds a dimension I was not aware of,” admitted Mrs Caruthers. “When I’m finished here, would it be possible to visit his room?”

“That could be a problem.”

“Oh! Why is that?”

“We haven’t been able to confirm his billet as yet,” commented Mrs. Shugendo. “So far we’ve only uncovered some very incomplete records for him.”

“I’ll need to have copies of what you have,” directed Mrs. Caruthers. She then asked, “Am I correct in understanding that Whateley tracks the food students consume?”

“Absolutely, as part of the ongoing research being conducted on mutation, the dietary needs of individuals are monitored - the scientists working here use that data as a tool to help evaluate and categorize power classifications. I’m told it’s useful to help establish power ratings, and honestly, it’s also very handy for monitoring costs and keeping the shelves stocked.”

“I would be very interested in seeing Mr. Burke’s dietary information,” requested the social worker.

“I can ask who might be able to retrieve that for you,” Mrs. Shugendo offered.

Doyle Medical Center: December 26, 2007

Cameron’s head was throbbing, like someone was using a jackhammer to bust open his skull. He raised his arms to rub his temples to ease the pain but wasn’t able to move his right arm more than a couple inches. Regretting the pain it took to open his eyes, Cameron discovered he was handcuffed to the bed.

Laying still he rested and tried to steady the ache, it started to blend together into an incessant throb, it took great effort to concentrate enough and focus, but managed to deal with the debilitating concern: his head. The skull fracture was disturbing. While the bone damage was repairable - and once tended to brought the throb down to a manageable level, the bruising of his brain and associated swelling made him feel disoriented and woozy.

Cameron was stable enough to explore his surroundings. Doyle was familiar territory … being in a recovery room was a pleasant upgrade rather than the morgue again. The room was spartan, consisting of little furnishings aside from the bed he lay upon, there was a chair, no washroom, and no window.

His backpack wasn’t to be found, so Cameron altered his sight to search his surroundings, and didn’t find his stuff anywhere in the building. He had ascertained that it was 6:00 am from the clock in the hall, and the calendar at the nurses station said it was December 26th.

There was a man sitting outside his door reading an old fishing magazine, he had a nasty bit of plaque built-up on a heart artery that he’d better get checked-out soon. In the mail slot beside his door was his medical file, with a note stating he was under arrest and awaiting transfer to the authorities. Whateley was going to hand him over to the MCO!

Anxiety built within Cameron, and he tried to lift himself out of bed, but the hurt that caused overcame him and despite his fear - he really needed to fall back asleep. He was so very tired and his headache was too much to bear, and that little movement had made him woozy to the point that the room spun. He lay still trying to determine what to do next when sleep claimed him.

There was noise in the hallway and Cameron stirred, he checked the time and it was just after 9:30 am, he felt a little better and fortunately had a clearer head. The door’s guard had changed, and his medical file had been updated, saying he’d been checked over and his condition was improving. The doctors assessment was: Cameron could be released into police custody … How very thoughtful of them to ensure he was healthy before killing him!

He didn’t have any monitors attached, so no alarms or triggers got set off when he removed the bandages. After unfastening the handcuffs from his wrist Cameron tried standing, he was still little disoriented but satisfied that he could walk. Cameron then quickly changed out of the hospital gown into the clothes he’d taken out of his Cupboard.

Standing behind the door; he noticed it didn’t have a lock on it. Cameron manifested a deadbolt to secure the door shut. He commenced checking his surroundings, the frightened boy faced a dilemma and after analyzing the situation - had only two choices: make a stand and fight, or run and try to find help.

He didn’t want this war, and a hospital was no place to wage a battle. Cameron needed an escape plan - but every tick of the clock decreased his chances. How soon before someone tried to come through that door?

Maybe it was due to losing faith in the system… or maybe because he’d never gotten a fair deal at Whateley. All he could focus on was that he wouldn’t roll over and quit, he needed to get distance between himself and this school.

His best route out was to go to the room below him, it was unoccupied and unguarded. Cameron dissipated a hole in the floor right overtop that rooms bed and dropped down to the next level - restoring the floor and cleaning up after himself.

The hallway had security cameras. He could scramble the electricity, but that might raise an alarm, so instead Cameron painted an empty view of the hall onto the camera’s lens. His artistry was transparent enough to let light in but obscured the view enough to hide his passage.

After entering another empty room on that floor which had a window; he made an opening in the glass and checked the security present before climbing out, restoring his means of escape behind him.

Hugging the exterior wall, keeping out of sight of any cameras, Cameron contemplated his next move. He was a fugitive now, just by attempting to escape he’d escalated the situation! Cameron could see no difference: Either he’d be handed over to the MCO, Whateley itself might want the honour, or perhaps whatever group had laid dibs on him first would kill him.

Cameron had daydreamed about walking up to the front gates and shredding this schools protective shielding, but realized now how impractical it would be to act upon. He needed a way to not attract attention and prevent people from knowing where he’d gone … The sewers!

Jinn and he had been tasked with cleaning out an old sewer line that was mostly forgotten about, as it was only used to drain rain water. Since it emptied into a river he was certain a catch basin was nearby in a parking lot.

How to get from where he was to where he needed to be? Looking around he only saw new snow, no footprints to step into or cover to hide behind. He smiled when the answer hit him: ‘Snow Goons’. Mom would fall into hysterics when reading the Calvin and Hobbes cartoons where he would make snowmen. White on white would be hard for the security cameras to detect, and if Cameron made lots of them as decoys - then used one as camouflage to get to the sewer … no one would be the wiser.

Cameron quickly piled and compacted snow making many snowmen, all while still in the shadow of Doyle hiding out of camera sight. He next fashioned a hollow shell around himself, lifting it slightly he moved cautiously to the parking lot. He moved overtop the manhole and dropped down the shaft. Cameron made a wheeled platform and quickly scooted down the pipe, the schools shield was unaffected by his passing and he was unseen by anyone as he exited.

The snow by the river was pretty deep, the river wasn’t completely frozen yet - ice had formed along the banks, but it still had open water. Cameron fashioned ice skates and secured them to his boots, then began removing energy from the river water to make a smooth ice path onto which he started to skate, breaking up the ice behind himself thereby covering his route.

Whateley Academy

Mrs. Sandra Caruthers arrived at the schools gates alone, she was asked to wait for only a few minutes until a security escort could accompany her.

“Morning Mum, Ian McTavish at yer service,” said the security guard with a tip of his hat as he approached. “Tis me first day back after some olidays.”

“Thank you Mr. McTavish, I am needing to visit someone at Doyle Hospital - will you be present for the duration of my time on campus?”

“Aye mum, I’ll be yer shadow for ta die. I’m not to let tany one give ye grief.”

“So you’re a bodyguard rather than a watchdog?”

“That be a fine way ta put it Mum,” beamed the security man. “Who be needin a visit?”

“Cameron Burke.”

“Fine boyo dat one, he saved me life he did - an dis school!”

“You’ll need to tell me all about that.”

“Appy to Mum,” offered the man.

Doyle was in lockdown when the pair entered the hospital, the staff was in a panic over something as doctors and nurses rushed about the place interspersed with a few security personnel. Mrs Caruthers was shown to a private room and asked to remain there until the situation had been cleared, it afforded an opportunity for McTavish to entertain the lady by recounting his experiences.

The Wilds of Mediwihla Lands

The River’s direction had turned away from where Cameron needed to go and it no longer headed toward where he felt Dunwich would be. Looking skyward, he found the Northstar Polaris, and verified he needed to head a different direction. He had gone under a bridge a few minutes back, so he backtracked and climbed up to a road.

So far skating had been a good way to cover ground fast, now he applied a thin ribbon of ice onto the road surface and continued to push himself hard. The temperature wasn’t all that cold out, but Cameron found he needed to put several layers of clothes on to keep himself warm and stop the shivers. He wasn’t sure how far it was to town, his head still hurt and that made it difficult to concentrate.

Cameron spotted a car on the roadside ahead, a lone female was standing beside her jeep - yelling at it and pounding upon the vehicle in frustration. The jeep was firmly caught in a snow bank which had immobilized the vehicle. Cameron slowed to a stop and ceased forming the ribbon of ice on the road. Dematerializing the metal blades he’d affixed to his boots he ducked down behind a snow bank to keep from being seen.

Observing the scene ahead: it was a young woman … a Were, Cameron was unable to determine what type. She had a gash over her right eye and a little blood had dripped down her face - likely from when her car hit the ditch. She had resorted to repeatedly kicking the rear tire to vent upon - when she paused and sniffed the air looking around, although she hadn’t yet seen Cameron.

“You might as well step out where I can see you,” she called in the boys direction.

It took Cameron a moment to determine if he had enough trust left to show himself. Standing, Cameron gave away his location, and started walking nearer.

The girl was dressed in comfortable clothes to travel in, a nice pair of jeans and a warm blouse, and a good set of boots. She was a little taller than Cameron: but then who wasn’t? She had reddish-copper colour hair which went down to her shoulder blades. She let out a puff of air and leaned against her jeep; watching as Cameron approached.

Still a few feet away Cameron said, “Hi!”

The female Were was maybe eighteen and cute, with nice blue eyes and a pert little nose, she wore too much make-up which detracted from her healthy beauty. The girl was sizing up the stranger coming towards her and from her posture Cameron could tell she considered him a possible threat.

Cameron slowly withdrew his hands from his gloves and removed his toque tucking it into a pocket, then bringing both hands forward in an open gesture to show no ill will.

“I’m Cameron,” he offered.

“Take off the glasses - let me see your eyes,” stated the girl, not so much as a demand but to establish a connection and build trust.

Cameron removed his visor and folded them up before raising up his eyes to look at her. Most people would gawk or recoil in fear, Cameron had all too often seen the disgust … occasionally it elicited curiosity, but Cameron was completely bewildered by what happened next.

The girl kneeled in front of him and bowed her head.

Doyle Medical Centre

Sandra Caruthers had been taking notes while Officer McTavish talked about his experiences with Cameron Burke, she didn’t think he was making it up, but still needed to get clarification on some of the more ‘extraordinary’ points.

The man was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a very apologetic Mrs. Shugendo entered to explain what was happening.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting Sandra, but it appears that Cameron Burke has escaped.”

“Escaped? Wasn’t he handcuffed with a guard posted?”

“Security has conducted a top to bottom search of Doyle and can’t find him. They have spread out and are commencing a sweep of the entire Campus.”

“Nothing on your cameras?”

“We are working off few clues, we don’t even know how he left the building. I am told that Security will need another half hour to finish checking school grounds before calling in a manhunt.”

Mediwihla Lands

Cameron knelt in-front of the girl and bowed his head too, matching her position.

It wasn’t long before the girl giggled, and Cameron raised his head to look at her. She had put a hand up to her mouth to hold back her amusement, but it got control of her as she let go with a solid laugh.

Cameron smiled and asked, “I take it this isn’t a proper Were greeting?”

“No,” she managed to say before another laugh broke free, followed by a snort.

The girl looked ashamed by the involuntary outburst, and Cameron doubted she knew just how much cuter her reaction had made her. Cameron stood and offered a hand to help her up. The girl looked suspiciously at the offered hand but didn’t take it, instead looking at him with big eyes; as blue as the midday sky, she had an expression Cameron couldn’t quite peg.

“I don’t bite,” explained Cameron.

“I do.”

“I imagine so,” confessed Cameron, then added, “consensus has it that I probably taste just like chicken, but I’d ask you refrain … at least until your car is unstuck.”

Again the girl giggled, but did accept the offered hand to help her up as she rose to her feet.

“Cameron Burke,” was given.

“Ella Oberon,” was received.

“Oberon … I’ve heard that name before” puzzled Cameron.

“From the legend of the Golden Eyed Man,” stated the girl.

“No! That’s not it … one of Shakespeare’s plays I think.”

The girl gave a definite growl stemming from his perceived slight. How could he not recognize her family’s name!

“But now that you mention it, I do recall there was someone named Oberon from when I was told the story.”

“It’s not a story, it’s legend … Oberon’s my ancestor, we can trace the family tree directly back to him.”

“Wow, that must be a big tree.”

“There’s just me left, my Dad is gone.”

“Which begs the question: what are you doing here?”

The girl at first held a defiant posture, as if it must be obvious, but gradually she relaxed and mellowed before answering.

“I heard rumours that the Golden Eyed Man had been found. I needed to see it for myself - I had to be certain.”

“What did you hope to find?”

“A warrior, a leader, a symbol to stand behind and make the people great again. Not some runny nosed kid.”

Ella slumped her shoulders, looking like she wanted to cry as she leaned against her car, needing the support seeing how her hopes had been dashed.

Cameron took the spot next to her, bringing out a tissue he blew his nose, then offered the box to her. Almost by reflex she took a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

Cameron decided he better tell his side, “When I was first told about the Golden Eyed Man, I thought ‘Hey! I’m not the only one.’ It made me feel better about myself. The strange thing is; a girl I thought was really cool - marked me … I mean: what the heck? Apparently we’re married or engaged or something.” Cameron let out a long slow sigh, “I don’t know about this Golden Eyed Man of yours. If I’m supposed to be him it’s news to me.” Turning his head Cameron looked at the girl, “Right now I’m just trying to be the best me I can.”

“You don’t lay claim to being the Golden Eyed Man?”

“Lynn might say otherwise, but saving the Were isn’t high up on my list of priorities.”

“Who’s Lynn?”

“My betrothed - or whatever you call it … and yes! She’s a panther.”

“You have a list of priorities?”

“It’s more a matter of what's most likely to kill me first; the MCO, or this stupid cold,” he said blowing his nose yet again and coughed.

“It was foretold that a child of Oberon would be the Golden Eyed Man’s sword and shield.”

“That’s nice! Why don’t we get your jeep unstuck and talk about it someplace warm,” requested Cameron. The skating had weakened him and he was becoming delirious from the flu. Cameron had the presence of mind to dissipate the snow that held the vehicle fast, until it sat upon solid ground.

Kane Hall

Samantha Everhart, had just gotten nicely absorbed into a book: it was a romance novel - the Admiral had been reading them for years, even before his transformation. It was a guilty pleasure taking him completely away from the everyday … and he would have denied it vehemently if ever caught.

Sam’s apartment above Kane Hall was now besieged by Whateley Security asking if she could take command of a manhunt: Cameron Burke had escaped.

The one handed woman hurriedly dressed into a uniform and strode into the office, establishing a centre of operations, and began dispatching teams to conduct searches. On a speaker phone she made a conference call to the Dunwich Sheriff and the State Police in Berlin.

A large New Hampshire map was hung and large circles drawn to show how far someone could travel in the timeframe since the boy had gone missing. The most likely routes had officers dispatched to set up road blocks and search parties organized.

Sam looked at the map, it was obvious that two-thirds of the search area was on Mediwihla lands, so she placed the call to see if the Were could help. The phone was answered on the first ring and Sam was asked to wait until Eloise Donner could speak with her.

“Hello Sam, what’s this I hear about a missing boy?” asked the Mediwihla Chief.

“Hello Eloise, we arrested a youth who managed to escape and fled the school, he’s wanted for drug dealing.”

“You have reason to suspect this student is coming our way?”

“At this time we don’t know how he got away or where he headed after leaving the school. The police have been notified and are setting up road blocks. Would you let your people know that if they are traveling to expect to be stopped and searched? But I’m calling in hopes that you might arrange some volunteers to help with the search.”

“Who are you looking for?” asked Eloise.

“His name is Cameron Burke,” supplied Everhart.

The phone was silent for an extended period before a different sounding Eloise spoke, “Tell your people not to enter onto Mediwihla lands. We will conduct our own search.”

“Eloise, we have trained people with dogs and equipment that can help locate the boy.”

“Your presence is not welcome: keep your people away.”

Mediwihla Lands

Ella was amazed how that within a minute of the boy sitting down he had a blanket wrapped around himself and was sound asleep … first off: where did the blanket come from?

Ella took a deep breath, the kid was sick - he’d said as much. It sounded like he was running away from someone - but there were no homes around. Had he come from the Were Village? He had a Were scent on him - he’d said he was marked. She didn’t know of any other places around here - she didn’t know what to do with him.

Ella had to make a decision: surely it needed to be more than a gut reaction, besides her gut was in turmoil: did she believe in the Legend? She had come to meet the Golden Eyed Man. She yearned to know, once in her life, what was truth, only to wind up with more questions, and end up with a human kid passed out beside her.

The day was overcast, which matched the girls mood. But as Ella looked towards Berlin the sky had darkened and more snow was falling. In the direction of the Mediwihla village a single ray of sunshine poked through the clouds and brightly lit a hillside, the girl mumbled as she pointed her jeep towards better weather.

Mediwihla Village

Eloise Donner had asked for the tribe to gather, and until now she hadn’t confirmed the presence of the Golden Eyed Man. She hadn’t denied it either, and rumours had been circulating Everyday it seemed she had to skirt the speculations wafting around the tribe.

Ben had sat her down one night and asked if she was trying to protect herself, the people, or Cameron by not letting everyone know who they had met. Eloise didn’t have an answer for him then, and didn’t know if what she was about to do now was right either. Sometimes all you can do is give your best and hope it turns out.

By announcing that a boy was lost and a search party was needed - it only drew out a quarter of the number needed to cover the ground in question. Eloise’s mouth went dry as she next said: “I believe the boy to be the Golden Eyed Man.” The gathered tribe went silent, only hushed murmurs started amidst the throng as they looked at each other grasping at the statement made.

“Ben and I met a young man named Cameron Burke at Whateley, he is marked; and his eyes shine like the sun at midday.”

The amount of questions asked between the audience was dividing the people, and was building to a mob.

“I only tell you what I believe,” admitted The Chief. “However he hasn’t been tested! Until then - the boy has been marked! He is a son of the people,” Eloise reminded them of their duty. “On that merit I call for your help.” Then to add impetus, “When he’s found, see for yourselves, if you too believe.”

Enough people presented themselves to mount three teams, and Eloise divided the tribal lands around Whateley Academy between them. She would lead one group of skilled trackers and sent the wolves as another, since they hunted in snow like no others. The third group was formed into a delegation to inquire of the grove.

Ben had of course volunteered to go, but it was winter and bears became slow in the snow, Eloise asked him to stay at the village and co-ordinate everyone’s efforts. He promised there would be a hot fire and plenty of food when they returned.

Kane Hall

Sam Everhart had only regrown the palm of her hand, nubs of fingers had started, not enough to effectively type with. Typing single handed was slow, and answering the phone stopped her processing information completely, as her good hand needed to hold the receiver.

The Admiral had become familiar with dancing around the game of politics: who had what authority over where. Admittedly she was surprised by Eloise’s response: the Were could usually be counted on to assist and support when asked. Something wasn’t adding up and one thing Hive didn’t like was when information didn’t mesh.

Mediwihla Village

Ella rounded a corner on the road and slowed to look down at the village built in the valley below, she had been here twice before on visits with her Dad’s Grand Council meetings. Those had to be some of the most boring events possible, old people sitting around in circles talking - talking in circles too.

During the first visit to the village Ella had been rather young, she fell asleep in fox form and Dad held her on his lap stroking her fur: that had been nice. The next time she was maybe twelve, and begged to be allowed to explore - okay, play with the other kids.

This tribe had almost always had a Panther as Chief according to what her Dad had said. Panthers needed room to hunt and liked it quiet to sneak up on prey, not like foxes: foxes could survive anywhere and Ella lived in Boston … at least on the outskirts anyway.

Ella liked the Mediwihla, they had been friendly and fun, they had a mixed Were community, which made them less stuck-up than some of the ‘purebred’ tribes out there. It was here that Ella had first met Were-wolves. They as a group tended to really like room to run and shied away from human communities: too much bad publicity … and what is it with them and the moon? They howl at it like a bunch of - well … Wolves.

Aside from a sneeze and a couple coughs the kid hadn’t said anything, just slept for the whole drive. The Village didn’t have a town square so much as it was an intersection, which is where Ella drove up to and parked. She stepped out of her Jeep and put on a jacket, then walked up to what she thought would be the Chief’s house and knocked on the door. It was quiet inside, but she heard noise from a building down the street and headed in that direction.

The building looked like it was the village’s school and meeting place, and looking inside she noted it was busy with preparations underway. Ella managed to get a mother wolf’s attention to ask where she could find the Chief, and was directed to a big guy over near the fireplace.

The look and smell of him said bear, and Ella had to remind herself of the proper way to act around a large carnivore.

“I carry greetings from the house Oberon, and ask for an audience with the Mediwilha’s Chieftain. I am Ella daughter of Ulrich.”

“Well presented young fox, you are received and welcomed Ella,” greeted the bear. “Our Chief: Eloise Donner, is off tending to other matters, she asked me to be in charge of our people in her stead. Please call me Ben.” His big smile spread across his face. “What can I do for a daughter of Oberon?”

“I find myself tasked with tending to the needs of a sick human.”

“An odd situation for a Were.”

“Indeed, I had come foremost to lay to rest the rumours surrounding a Golden Eyed Man.”

“As a descendant of Oberon is sworn to do,” acknowledged Ben.

“I found - no that’s not right. He found me on the road.”

“Show me!” directed the bear as he nearly pushed her out the door in haste.

Mediwihla Village, December 29, 2007

Cameron remembered being spoon fed some chicken soup, beyond that only some vague faces and sounds floated around in the swirling mess that comprised the last few days.

It was a relief to wake up in a bedroom and not a jail cell … a hospital would have been a fair compromise, but a warm soft bed was a definite win.

Flannel sheets and heavy wool blankets, it was like when she spent weekends at Grannies. It was a solid wood four post bed and the room had the finishing touches expected from an older generation: doilies on the table, lace fringes on the window. It had the effect of relaxing Cameron.

Sleeping in a high-back chair, feet stretched out onto an ottoman, and covered by an afghan blanket was that girl he met on the road. (What was her name: Elsa, Elinor, Eloise - Eloise Donner. Maybe Eloise could help me get away from Whateley.

Speaking of Whateley; where am I? And how come I can’t remember the girls name?

Layering his sight made him dizzy, however thermographic wasn’t taxing so he scanned the building and found three people sitting together near a fire. Cameron was happy to just be laying there, but he really - really needed to use the washroom. Lifting the sheets he was pleased the find he was in pyjama’s, he rolled over to put his feet on the floor and lifted himself up. The room needed to stop rotating like that if he had any intention of standing.

Cameron closed his eyes to try and prevent falling over, when he opened them again; positioned in-front of him was that girl … ahh! Come on - what’s her name?

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

It took Cameron a second to recall why he was sitting there, but pressure in the nether regions reminded him: “Washroom,” he weakly informed her.

“Right then. Give me your hand.”

Cameron raised his arm and she gave him a solid yank which brought him to his feet, and the knees didn’t like that too much, she slung his arm over her shoulders and mostly dragged him out the room and down the hall.

The place was a blur to Cameron, but he heard Ben’s voice say that he’d take it from there.

To Cameron’s mind he said: ‘Hi Ben’. What actually came out was more like, ‘hey bear’.

Ben chuckled and brought the boy to the needed destination.

Ben helped steer the incoherent kid back to bed and seated him on the side of the bed, what looked like a sweet old lady handed him a steaming hot mug and told him to drink it. Cameron caught a whiff of it and recoiled from how vile it smelled.

“If you think it smells bad, wait till you taste it!” the lady told him as she pushed the brew up to his lips and tipped the mug, forcing him to drink it all.

“Gah!” was Camerons reaction … that and a strong desire to shave his tongue.

Putting a thermometer into his mouth the lady held Camerons arm while looking at Ben’s watch.

“How’s he doing?” asked Ben.

“Heck if I know. I saw Doctor Kildare do this on TV and figured it looked smart.”

“And the thermometer?” questioned Ben as he laid Cameron down and pulled the covers over him.

“It says he’s not done yet. Course I usually just use it to cook chicken with,” informed the lady.

“Apparently he tastes just like chicken,” added the girl donning a big smile.

“Great! I’m surrounded by comedians,” moaned Ben as he exited the room to answer the knock on the front door.

“The boy is going to be sleeping a good long time after that concoction I gave him. Now you young lady should get some decent sleep!”

“I’m fine on the chair. He needs to be watched.”

“What, and waste the perfectly good bed I made-up for you? Not in my house deary! Me an Ben will keep an eye on him - and Ben called in reinforcements.”

“You’re posting a guard?”

“Even better,” said the lady.

New Hampshire Highway

It had taken Mike Williamson three connector flights to get here from Prince George. He’d just managed to get a seat on the flight to Vancouver, then it was the red-eye between Vancouver and Denver, his last plane had him flying standby into Boston. At least he had been able to hire a rental car, and he’d traveled over an hour North of Concord on the highway - but could use some sleep and a shower was definitely a must. He hoped Berlin wasn’t far.

The call from the New Hampshire Police had been unexpected and caught him spending the day with his family. The police had been shy on details but just mentioning that Cameron was missing was enough for him to pack a bag and say quick goodbyes. He’d let Karen know he was heading off to help Cameron and asked if she would cover for him at the office, then swung by Grace and Marcus’s to pick up a gift they had for Cameron.

The Police had asked if he would notify them when he arrived in Berlin, so he placed the call shortly after checking in to the hotel and left a message on the machine that had answered. He provided them the name of the hotel he was staying at.

Berlin NH

The knock on his hotel room door at eight am had a sleep deprived Mike ask if they could give him a few hours to get a little more rest and shake jet lag.

Detective Roberts could understand why this man: Mike Williamson, would be out-of-sorts and granted him the benefit of a couple hours. The tough time he’d had to get to Berlin was asking a-lot. What with booked flights and weather delays … it had taken him almost thirty-six hours to arrive.

It’s just that there were too many gaping holes in Cameron Burkes file, so Roberts was anxious to question the man who could shine some light onto this case. The manhunt had been a bust since the searches hadn’t found so much as a footprint - and fresh snow had hindered further efforts.

A bulletin had been issued and circulated to the surrounding jurisdictions, so far no sightings of the boy.

The case had ground to a stand still; although Admiral Everhart had filed an assault charge in addition to the drug trafficking. Everhart was also checking into other violations that the school might wish to pursue. The crime lab in Boston had been backlogged with high volumes and short staffing, but his latest call had spurred them into assuring him his request was next on the list.

~o~O~o~

Detective Roberts had to acknowledge that the man kept his word, Mike Williamson walked into the station, without escort, at the time he had said he would. The tail he’d put on the man said he’d stopped for a quick meal at the hotel before driving straight to the police station.

The officer at the desk had shown Mike into an interrogation room, and Roberts was now watching him through the one-way glass to size him up. The Detective filled a couple cups of coffee and entered the room to greet the waiting Mike, handing over the hot cup while taking a seat opposite the man.

“Hello Mr. Williamson, I am Detective Roberts, I hope you don’t mind answering a few questions for me. First off: what is you relationship to Cameron Burke?”

“I’m Camerons legal guardian. For the record my full name is Michael Roy Williamson.”

“And his parents?”

“Both dead, the family was involved in an auto accident - Cameron was the sole survivor.”

“Had you been a family friend?”

“No. I was appointed by the court to be his guardian - I’m a Public Prosecutor in British Columbia. Once Cameron had received a clean bill of health - Cameron was desirous of having me remain as his guardian.”

“I believe you are aware that Cameron is a missing person. The New Hampshire Police are trying to determine his whereabouts.”

“I came as soon as I could, has there been any news?”

“Can you tell me what Cameron was doing at Whateley Academy?”

“He was attending school there! I helped fill in his application and arranged payment of tuition from out of his personal accounts.”

“Had you suggested his presence there?”

“No, a friend of his is an alumni. As I understand it - it’s a school that caters to those with special needs, and is equipped to handle students who exceed … normal boundaries. Cameron had asked my thoughts about going to school there, but it was his choice.”

“Cameron’s a mutant?”

“I’d certainly thought so, but all the tests and examinations conducted so far don’t support that conclusion.”

“What is he then?”

“Human,” observed Mike. “Has Whateley uncovered anything to explain otherwise?”

“I’m not in a position to reveal anything pending my investigation. Had you ever visited Cameron to check on conditions there?”

“No, we corresponded almost daily via email, and usually spoke once or twice a week on the phone … there was an instance shortly after he arrived when a dispute arose and a video conference was conducted: a Miss Amelia Hartford and Mrs. Marissa Dawson had presided, a Mrs. Donner from a local first nation was also in attendance.”

“The purpose of that meeting?”

“Cameron had been attacked upon arrival at Whateley, we came to an agreement regarding his continued attendance and the protection he could expect while on Campus.”

“Do you know if the conditions had been upheld?”

“Cameron did not speak of further troubles, I needed to trust his judgement, given the situation.”

“What do you know of Cameron’s financial situation? Is he vulnerable - in need of money?”

“Cameron was the beneficiary of multiply life insurance policies, the sole heir to a substantial will, and received a large settlement from a multinational company. Cameron is by no means destitute,” explained Mike. “Do you suspect he’s being held for ransom?”

Mediwihla Village: December 31, 2007

Just five more minutes! Cameron adjusted himself to get a little more comfortable under the blankets, and hugged a little tighter the nice warm furry hot water bottle someone had put into bed with him.

Laying still he conducted an internal survey, it looked like the fever had broken, his temperature was near normal, his sinus’s had cleared and his chest - though sore and heavy, wasn’t congested. His skull was still tender, but he didn’t feel disoriented any longer.

Cameron opened his eyes and found himself looking into a couple of the biggest brown eyes imaginable gazing up at him. The miniature bear was bathed in the light from the boys eyes and was mesmerized looking at them.

“Well! Aren't you just the cutest thing ever,” he said to the little bear cub that was snuggled up against him.

The small bear turned its head and gave a loud bleat, it drew the attention of a couple of people in a nearby room alerting them to activity in the bedroom.

“Oh good; You’re finally up! And Ben accused me of trying to kill you,” said an older lady with a knitted shawl draped over shoulders.

The little bear scampered over to the other woman, who picked it up giving it a squeeze, “Good girl Tilly.”

Recognizing the Were signatures Cameron realized what the scene was. “Thank you Tilly, that was a wonderful sleep, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a warm, fuzzy and downright cuddly teddy bear before.”

The little Were buried her face into her mothers arms, her mother smiled deeply and gave Cameron a wink before taking her young one into the other room.

The older woman came back, sat on the bed and touched Cameron’s forehead. “You’re not as hot. Feeling any better?”

“Much better … but I think someone tried to poison me,” reasoned Cameron while running his tongue around his mouth to see if it actually had hair on it.

The lady gave a deep / rumbling laugh, “Did they now! Looks like it didn’t kill,” as she checked a few vital signs and felt the back of his head, giving a satisfied huff.

“This bed is too comfortable for a hospital, I take it you’re not a Doctor?”

“Hardly, Were heal too quickly for a doctor to be of much use. I tend to wounds and make poultices from herbs to prevent infection … I guess you’d call me the closest thing to a medic you’ll find among Were. My name is Ida: but most call me Granny.”

“Is it impolite to ask your nature? I can see you’re a Were but I’m not familiar with which type.”

“Haven’t a nose on you have you lad?” she asked, to which he shook his to say no. “I’m a badger, some of the most ornery, hard headed, spiteful folks you’ll ever meet.”

“Might want add caring to that list.”

“Ha! Shows how much you know,” she chuckled, but smiled at him just the same.

“I am in your debt Granny. Thanks for looking after me.”

“If you lay back: I’ll get some warm broth for you. Eloise is going to want to speak with you,” she said rising off the bed.

Berlin NH

“Cameron rarely talks about himself much. He’s pretty tight lipped regarding what he thinks or feels, it’s just the way he is. He was housed in a bomb shelter for two months and didn’t complain once,” informed Mike Williamson.

“Is he so dangerous that you needed to squirrel him away in a bomb shelter?”

“No! There had been numerous attempts on his life by the MCO. It was the safest place to protect him.”

“So the situation you mentioned when he arrived on campus was related to those attacks?”

“Possibly so, Cameron felt there was link, but hadn’t expanded upon his theory yet.”

“Does he feel he’s above the law, that he withholds information relevant to a police investigation?”

“Cameron is a police officer, he was recruited by the RCMP and works for a specialized task force.”

“He’s RCMP! This is the first I’m hearing of it … I’ll need to get confirmation,” Roberts commented. “Do you know: Was he undercover?”

“That’s where it becomes complicated: Cameron only wished to be a student - he wanted to finish his education. However; with so many attempts on his life, the Canadian Government decided to assigned him to the Department of Foreign Affairs as an envoy with him leaving the country.”

“He’s a diplomat?”

“Is his kidnapping politically motivated?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you Mr. Williamson: Cameron escaped arrest, there is a warrant out for him on charges of drug dealing and assault. He’s a fugitive.”

“What!”

Mediwihla Village

The community hall was brightly lit, noisy, and crammed full of people tonight. Cameron was nervous about entering into the gathering, and when he stepped through the door a hush fell over everyone as all heads turned to look upon the unknown boy who entered.

Cameron was brought into the room by Eloise on one side of him and Ben on the other, Ella had taken point and Granny followed behind but veered off and sat joining friends at a table partway into the crowd. Cameron groaned when he noticed he was being taken to the gathering’s head table - the last place he wanted to be at, but was shown to a chair beside Eloise.

Eloise and Cameron had had a long conversation that afternoon, during which Cameron explained recent events as he understood them - comparing that to what Eloise had gleaned from Whateley Security and the State Police while conducting a search around Whateley.

Eloise stood and waited for the murmuring to silence as the tribes chief request everyone’s attention:

“I ask you give welcome to our honoured guests: On my left is Ella from the house Oberon, it was sad news when her father Ulrich fell to the dark forces. To my right is Cameron Burke: Marked by my own niece Lynn,” Eloise gestured for Cameron to remove his visor, “and quite possibly the Golden Eyed Man.”

The given announcement caused agitation as the crowd looked upon the boy with a critical eye, resulting in much talking and speculation arising from among those gathered. The talk at some tables became heated and almost resorted to blows.

Many voices called out for Ella to address their concerns. Ella had talked for a time with Cameron that afternoon, but some of her questions bordered on the bizarre to him. Ella seemed like a really nice girl, but she had an agenda that Cameron didn’t understand. Cameron had thanked her for looking after him while he was half-crazed …. Her comment was that she hadn’t noticed a difference, that laughter cemented the fact that she was okay.

When Ella stood, the crowd again took a few moments to settle before allowing her speak.

“The house Oberon is oath bound. We are sworn to test out those who claim to be the Golden Eyed Man, and whence he is found - act as his sword and shield to free the Were. As you know, my father: Ulrich, was lost to us during one of ‘the bastards’ attacks, Oberon’s mantle has fallen upon me.”

A few scorned the very thought that a mere young girl was capable of fulfilling an Oberon’s role, others gave ear to hear her out.

“From the time I was weaned, my father prepared me to take his place, but believe me when I say, I am foremost among those who wish he was here standing before you."

“What say you? Daughter of Oberon: Surely no scrawny whelp like him can lead us to war!” yelled a voice from within the mass.

“From generation to generation, my family has tested out those who would claim to be our saviour. None of those ever proved suitable for one simple fact: they sought the position, they hungered for power. I stand before you to say that Cameron Burke is the first to pass the initial test: He does not outright seek the position, not from lack of conviction or from fear, but because he is humble … Consider something my father and I debated at length over: why would a great warrior be in need of someone else to act as sword and shield?”

“Is he the Golden Eyed Man?” demanded a man seated at a nearby table.

“I have only administered two of the five tests, and while he has passed both, I cannot commit to claiming him worthy … I must ask time for the testing to take place,” she replied in answer to the pointed question. “Please: I as much as any of you - hope the promised future was upon us. The loss of my father still burns my heart … but I will not support a falsehood fuelled by ego or daydreams. I give you my word: Oberon’s vow will be upheld.”

The night was spent with people staring at Cameron … including Ella, a few approached and spoke with both he and Ella. Cameron was grateful when plates of food were distributed, as the meal was tasty and was a good way to distract attention from off himself. When the tables where cleared away, music filled the room as dancing and singing became the nights entertainment.

Cameron noticed several of the ‘available’ young men asked Ella to dance but she would reject the offer, when he heard the beginning refrains to a particular song he stood from the table and approached her, her eyes getting bigger with each step he took.

Holding out his hand he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

“I…” she stuttered while looking around nervously, “I don’t know how.”

“Trust me, you’re a natural.”

“How are you so sure?”

“It’s a foxtrot!”

She let fly a snort of laughter before standing facing him, “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Never. But I could use something to burn off a little tension. You game?” he asked.

“Nope, a predator,” she replied with a wicked smile as they walked onto the dance floor.

Cameron gave her a couple hints about footwork and let her watch him until she was moving smoothly and started having fun.

For some reason most of the songs after that were foxtrots, and he and Ella enjoyed a couple more dances together before Ella was plagued by eager partners each wanting a chance to dance with the pretty girl. To her credit, Ella danced the night away.

The room’s mood had calmed as the hours passed, few continued to dance as the focus had shifted onto Cameron who had been drawn into more conversations by the curious Weres. He’d been asked many questions about who he was, where he came from, and who had marked him. As he talked, he noticed that everyone had gathered around to listen in.

“I find myself greatly disadvantaged,” he announced, “You all seem to know the legend of the Panther and the Golden Eyed Man by heart, but I’ve only ever heard it once, and I’m finding that telling was greatly abbreviated. Would it be possible for me to hear it in full?”

It was decided that the privilege should be granted to the eldest: Granny, who was given a chair in the crowds centre from which she commenced to impart the legend, embellishing the story, bringing life and passion into its telling for the room’s entertainment.

Granny received adulation but was quick to turn the tables - by suggesting Cameron now tell them all a story. Everyone turned in expectation upon the boy and moved in closer, Cameron had only one memory to call upon. “This is a story my grandfather told me,” he said, setting the stage.

“There are strange things done in the land of the midnight sun. By the men who moil for gold. Arctic trails have their secret tales …” commenced Cameron reading from memory Robert Service’s: “The Cremation of Sam McGee”. The room was held in breathless anticipation as Cameron unfolded the story of the two men battling the hardships of the Klondike gold rush.

Tilly in her bear form stood beside Cameron, her paws resting on his leg as she looked up at him in wonder, her huge brown eyes fixed upon him. With little pause to the telling, Cameron reached down - picking her up and set her upon his knee then began gently petting her as he recounted the poem. Anguish was evident upon his listeners hearing how the man froze to death - but if as one they agreed how honourable it was to fulfill a dying wish.

Wrapping up the story Cameron finished his rendition with: “Please close that door, It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm. Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

It was as if everyone was in a trance, the gathered throng of young and old who surrounded him was silent. That curtain fell when Granny broke into a belly laugh, followed by the rest when realization hit them - and then laughter rang loud.

Once more Cameron fielded questions, but soon started yawning and was feeling tired. It was Granny who noticed he had begun to falter, so she stood and directed he be allowed to retire for the night.

Walking back to Granny’s house, Ella mentioned to him: “You could have read the phonebook and they would have hung onto every word.”

“Oh sure: AA Aardvark Plumbing and Heating, 555-123-4567.”

“He doesn’t understand, can you explain it to him Ida?”

“Although Were have two forms, they have only one tongue. Communication: be it a bark, yip, snarl, or words, it conveys meaning not just in what is said, but by how it is said. Your heart spoke tonight - that is what the Were listened to.”

“Then I made a fool of myself by telling a joke.”

“Stories are how our people pass down history, storytellers are revered since they speak wisdom, share ideas and impart inspiration. Humour is a great way to teach - your story was well received. There is however one thing about the human tongue Were can’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“Lies!”

Mediwihila Village: January 1, 2008

It was predawn when Ella burst into Camerons room, she carried a large metal shield and brandished a long sword. It was too long a blade for her … but pride wouldn’t let her wield any other.

Cameron watched the agitated girl as she checked the room for danger, ensuring the curtains were drawn and handed Cameron his visor to darken the room.

“What’s happening?”

“You didn’t hear the call to arms?” she boggled. “Of course not - human hearing.”

“The village is in trouble?”

“The corrupted are probing the villages defences!”

“Then what are we doing here?” asked Cameron, stepping out of bed fully attired in hardy clothes ready to face the cold outside.

“We are keeping you safe, human’s can’t even look upon one of the corrupted without being overcome.”

“I have faced them before … and beaten them,” cautioned Cameron, his revelation met by a slack jawed Ella.

“HOW DID YOU defeat them?” Ella demanded.

“By exploiting their weaknesses, one of which is light,” instructed Cameron, as he manifested a box of flashlights. “Can you get these passed around? We’ll want to set a snare - encircling them, the light can be used to push them into a trap - it hurts them.”

“Surely you jest.”

“Frequently, but not tonight,” admonished Cameron. “The corrupted are exactly that - it is a highly virulent dark energy, it’s like a cold that overwhelms any Were it contacts. The light from these flashlights burn that dark. If we can corral them the fight is on our terms - not theirs.”

“A worthy plan,” admitted Ella. “How do we dispatch them once caught?”

“We need to drain off the dark energy, If we had three who can use slingshots, I have something that can suck away that energy.”

“I know the weapon you speak of.”

“Good, find two more - GO … Please! I’ll catch up with you.”

Ella went outside with the box of flashlights and gave a couple yips, attracting a couple other of the Were, they grabbed handfuls of flashlights and ran off into the night.

Somehow Ella passed the battle plan on to the Were engaged in battle who were deflecting the assault, those keeping the attackers at bay by fighting hand to hand with the black slime covered enemy. A snare was set that would draw the corrupted into a trap. Ella was among the warriors and directed the formation of a circle behind the defensive line - so when an opening was made the corrupted passed through defenders only to be halted by a string of flashlight carrying Were who shone their lights onto the contained foe.

The corrupted reeled in pain whenever a beam of light was cast onto them, they climbed onto and over each other to avoid the burn, and the mass of writhing black bodies shrieked a sound of anguish like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Cameron met up with Ella as she stood with a young warrior each keeping the enemy at bay with a flashlight.

“I only have two of us skilled with a slingshot,” Ella informed him.

Manifesting two sturdy slingshots he gave them each one plus a satchel filled with little black balls roughly the size of grapes, advising them, “Shoot into the mass, make sure that each of them is hit at least once.”

Ella and her recruit began firing into the dark morass walking around the circumference of the confining ring, peppering the enemy with the hard projectiles that stuck onto the targets they hit like suction cups.

The shrieking abated, and slowly the mass transformed from the disgusting abysmal slime to glimpses of exposed flesh. In mere minutes the definition of bodies was distinguishable and moans replaced the howls and snarls.

Cameron moved towards the heap, but was held back by the nearest Weres trying to prevent his endangerment … distance him from that pile which threatened death only minutes ago. Within the light the Were watched as human shapes moved in agony working vainly to untangle themselves. Cameron slipped through the slackened hands that had been restraining him and he knelt beside a figure on the outer edge. The male was awash in the light emitted from Cameron eyes, none of the corruption remained.

Scanning the remaining pile, he verified none of the infected remained within those laying onto each other. He waved for the others - the Were watching in awe, to come join him in helping those reclaimed from the corrupting energy. A shout accompanied by a howl sounded a victory.

In the distance a snarl tore through the night, Ella moved briskly grabbing Cameron’s arm and pulled him along as she dashed into the forest. They had gone a distance, back to where the defensive line had entangled with the dark forces. In the trees stood Eloise, looking down with great emotion.

Laying on the ground, writhing in pain was Ben, a large gash on his arm said he’d been wounded in the fighting - tendrils of black oozing outward as it sought victory over the Were-bear.

Ella had to restrain Eloise when she sought to prevent Cameron from approaching the fallen friend. She was in tears awash with grief, moaning: “I told him to stay back - a bear needs to hibernate in winter, it made him too slow to fight.

Cameron slipped past the barrage of emotion to bend down onto a knee beside the writhing bear, then he reached into his satchel withdrawing a single black ball. It was placed near to the wound on the big guys arm - adhering to his flesh sticking fast to the spot of contact. Under the light from Cameron’s eyes everyone could follow how the black was pulled into the little ball as if it was a vacuum cleaner.

Ben’s huge body slumped in relief when the last of the foreign energy was discharged, the wound no longer seething black, his life struggle abated.

“Hey bear,” Cameron said to him, taking hold of the man’s large hand and squeezing it tightly.

The three helped get Ben onto his feet, with Eloise and Ella walking on either side giving him support as they ventured back to the Village.

~o~O~o~

The village’s hall had been hurriedly set up to become the medical centre. The formerly corrupted Were now needed to rest and regain the strength that the infecting energy had consumed. Granny was barking out orders to bring order to the chaos as she triaged the injured that filled the room.

Eloise directed the group assisting Ben into the hall, and laid the weary bear onto a bench since no beds remained unclaimed. Cameron circulated around the room observing the returned Were, speaking to each of them as he collected the balls that performed remarkably well. Ella was assisting a woman laying on a bed and helped the unsteady lady drink the fluid Cameron had prepared.

All told: nineteen had been returned … released from the darks influence.

Eloise beckoned Cameron join her at a table.

“Okay … spill! What are those little magic balls of yours?”

Cameron was delighted at discovering a little family idiom - one used by Lynn and Terry, it brought on a smile. “Looks like I need to let you in on a little secret. I look at the world through golden eyes so I don’t see normally.” Setting one of the little balls on the table between them he continued, “This ball is made up of elements that take in energy like sponges, black says it’s empty - waiting to start gathering up energy. It turns pure white when it’s at capacity.”

“So this ball - it has streaks of colour in it: like cream in coffee.”

“Yes. It is only half full. But there’s more you should know: I absorb energy.” He illustrated by picking up the ball and it turned black. “I store energy like a battery, then use it to rearrange matter - like making these little balls.” He clenched his fist around the ball, opening his hand - within were two black balls.

“I see it, and believe what you say: but don’t understand.”

“I am hard pressed to try and explain better than I just did.”

“You suggest I am incapable to knowing your true nature?”

“I’m saying I am exploring my nature and that is as far as I’ve gotten with enough certainty to be able to share it with you.”

Ella sat down, joining herself to the conversation “You keep much about yourself hidden, much like the Were … a wise strategy for survival. But I must ask, the story you told us last night - was it to prepare us for this victory … how those who are dead would return to the living?”

“Had I said it another way you might think I had arranged the attack,” admitted Cameron “Even so, I had no idea when it would come.”

“I hadn’t meant to suggest …” back-pedalled Ella, “The Pantheress! It is said she would be farsighted - a seer, was it her that told you to make preparations?”

“And now I finally get it. The Were are tired of being pawns sacrificed in war, the corrupted have no choice in the matter while the remaining Were are honour bound and must fight for their lives. It’s obvious: The Were don’t want to be used anymore.”

“Will you be setting us free now?”

“I just figured out what being free means, I don’t know how to go about attaining it.”

~o~O~o~

Cameron returned to Granny’s house to get more sleep after the adrenaline rush faded, but couldn’t fall back asleep. Instead he wandered around the dear old ladies house and fixed everything that was in need of repair, then cleaned it until it shone.

He left the comfortable house and headed to Eloise’s place, outside he manifested boxes of flashlights, and cases of the little black balls. Leaving directions on how to keep the flashlights charged

Walking up the street in the early morning light toward the main intersection, Cameron stopped at a large snow pile approaching twenty feet high, yesterday the kids had started to play on it like a winter playground. Cameron chuckled and fashioned snow chutes, ice slides, tunnels and stairs from out of the big mound of snow, he then meandered the short distance to the community hall.

The room was quiet, as all the Were within slept soundly. Ella was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee, she had spent the night bedside with the woman she had been nursing.

“You’re not asleep?” Ella asked of him.

“Too much to think about, couldn’t sleep,” he confessed. “You’ve been sticking close, is the lady someone you know?”

“She’s from my tribe, she went missing almost a year ago … I look at her and my hope builds that I will see my father again.”

“I’ve decided I need to leave, there’s something I need to fix - I can’t move forward unless I go back.”

“Is it why you ran away?”

“More like why I escaped.”

“How do we beat the black-death without you?”

“You have the tools to fight the external corruption, it’s the internal corruption that worries me.”

“Something I can help you with?”

“I’ve got to get to Berlin.”

“Eloise won’t be happy about your leaving, but I’ll take you there.”

It was a tough conversation with the Mediwihla’s Chief, but she accepted Cameron’s reason for leaving, and was grateful for the flashlights and energy balls. Cameron suggested each Were wear one as protection against being infected.

Ella drove Cameron to Berlin during which she asked him many questions about Lynn, parking her jeep a short distance from the police station she wondered, ”Are you certain this is a good idea?”

“Weres value truth and honesty. It showed me that I have to face the consequences of my actions in-order to be able to look myself in the mirror.”

Cameron walked into the Berlin State Police office, he stepped up to the counter. Taking off his gloves and toque setting them on the counter, then undid his jacket and placed it on the counter too.

The officer looked with surprise at him saying: “Your not doing a strip tease as some kind of New Years resolution are you?”

“No Officer: I’m Cameron Burke, I surrender myself.”

End Part 1

What's the Matter With You: Part 2

Author:

Camospam

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Female to Male

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

What’s the Matter With You: Part 2

By Camospam, editing by Wendy K.

The third ‘It Matters’ story following the adventures of Outlook, based in the Whateley Academy Universe.

Berlin NH: January 1, 2008

“I surrender!” announced Cameron as he spread his feet apart and leaned forward resting both hands on the counter.

The State Police Officer rushed around the counter, and began to pat him down, checking for concealed weapons. Cameron was read his rights while being handcuffed, then taken into the cell block. It housed some hungover revellers that celebrated a little too vigorously last night.

Cameron was handled roughly, since one of the charges against him was assault on a security officer he was viewed as one of the lowest of the low. He was placed into a cell with a big man wearing leathers and had little skin left not sporting tattoos. The arresting officer left the handcuffs on the boy and smirked while locking the cage door.

The small cell had only a single bed, and it was also the only seat. The large man stood to display just how big he was.

“You can stay sitting, I don’t need to rest just yet,” suggested Cameron.

The man grunted a non verbal cue that he didn’t find the kid funny.

“I am a little hungry thou, when is lunch? I’m Cameron by the way, I’d offer to shake your hand, but it would be rather awkward.”

“Fresh meat!” was grumbled as the overweight man stepped closer. His tight t-shirt barely retaining his belly.

“Okay Mr. Meat, if we’re going to be roomies, let’s get some ground rules established.”

“You’re breathing my air!”

Unfazed Cameron continued, “First rule: threatening me will result in you taking an extended time out. Second rule: touching me will force me to retaliate.”

“I’m gonna grind you into a pulp!”

“Third rule: If you decide to act nicely, I can be good company in a bad situation. What do you say?”

“I’m gonna split you open and decorate the walls with your guts!”

“That would be rule one, nighty night,” informed Cameron, as the big man dropped to the floor and didn’t move. The prisoners in the cells on either side stepped away from the bars, “You all heard that I tried to warn him … right?”

~o~O~o~

Mike Williamson was resting in his hotel room and had just put down the phone after having called his family, telling them about what was happened and how much he missed them. The phone’s ring startled him but he lifted the receiver on that first ring. “Mike Williamson here.”

“Mr Williamson, this is Detective Roberts, we’ve located Cameron Burke.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s at the police station in Berlin, would you happen to be his legal counsel? He’s asked to speak with a lawyer.”

“I’ve talked with a law firm in Boston, and they recommend I act as co-counsel for Cameron. Am I allowed to see him?”

“I will arrange for you to have visitation.”

“Be there in ten minutes,” said Mike, as he dropped the phone into its cradle and started gathering up his notes.

~o~O~o~

Mike Williamson was walked through the prisoner holding area and past the cell Cameron occupied. The boy was sitting stiffly on the single bed, his hands still restrained. He shared the cell with a particularly rough looking large man, the two were engaged in a game Mike recognized as Geography.

Mike felt sorry for the man stuck in the cell with Cameron. During some of the long quiet nights in the bomb shelter, he and Cameron had played the game. The rules were easy enough since after the first person says the name of a place the next person has to come up with another place’s name - starting with the last letter from the previous place. It had been interesting and kept Cameron occupied, he must have memorized the atlas because that kid was sharp.

Mike heard the big man say, “Halifax! Ha, that’s an X - I’ve got you now!” touting a triumph over Cameron - who apparently had the next turn.

Cameron saw Mike and waved to him, then faced his opponent and said, “Xinzhou … in China, giving you a U.” The boy then stepped up to the bars to get closer. “Mike! How did you get here so fast?”

“I was called in when you went missing,” informed Mike.

“Sorry you got dragged into this,” he admitted.

“Hold tight, they’re getting a room ready for us,” Mike advised while motioning to zipper his mouth.

Mike heard the men behind them bantering around ideas before the big guy called over, “Uzbekistan!”

The guard had unlocked the cell door and ushered Cameron through it, before getting too far the boy called back to his cellmate: “Nassau, another U.”

“Son of a …. beached platypus” corrected the man, giving Cameron a nervous sideways glance as the boy was moved away from the cellblock.

Cameron followed Mike into the room and the guard locked them in. Mike held out a chair for Cameron and pushed it in for him as the handcuffs limited how much the boy could manoeuvre on his own, then Mike took a chair beside him. Cameron looked around the room and then turned to face Mike.

“Are they allowed to eavesdrop on us?”

Mike was taken aback by the question. “In Canada a lawyer is granted confidential access to his client, I don’t know if that holds true in the States. It’s why I asked for another lawyer’s help.”

“Makes sense. Is it someone you know?”

“I reached out to Bruce Goodkind, remember in that letter he gave you - he said if you ever needed anything … I figured he would know some good law firms. Turns out he has several top firms on retainer and is having a guy named Paulson assigned to us. He was supposed to show up yesterday.”

“Do you know what I should expect?”

“You’ll be brought before a judge for an initial appearance: they might call it an arraignment. It’s when you will hear the charges against you and enter a plea, I’m hoping the judge will let you out on bail.”

“Will that happen today?”

“I would guess today but maybe tomorrow,” rationalized Mike.

A knock at the door was followed by a man entering the interview room, he was in his forties and wore an expensive suit with a fancy wristwatch, but his five-o’clock shadow was more than a single days growth.

“Sorry I’m so late, it’s been a bear to get here.”

Cameron smirked at the comment, but Mike stood to shake the man’s hand. “Mr. Paulson, nice to finally met you.”

“Mike: “The pleasure is mine, call me Emit, and this young man must be Cameron,” and offered his hand.

Cameron raised his handcuffed hands above the table to let him see that he was unable to properly accept the invitation.

“Are those really necessary?”

“It’s the optics, I hadn’t wished to antagonize the police,” revealed Cameron.

“I would assume they’re a might testy, assaulting an officer tends to get their knickers in a knot.”

“But I didn’t …”

“Did you get your rights read to you?”

“After I surrendered, yes.”

“Have you spoken to anyone about the charges against you, has a policeman interviewed you without a lawyer present?”

“No.”

“Good. I expect that an officer is going to be asking you some questions, my job is to stop you from incriminating yourself - you can refuse to answer any question as provided under the fifth amendment. I am here to protect you - if I say ‘don’t answer that’ I expect you to stop speaking … understood?”

“Yes sir.”

~o~O~o~

Detective Roberts had waited to interrogate Cameron Burke until the case worker from Child Services: Sandra Caruthers, was present. The two agencies had been pooling information, but they both needed to speak with Cameron to make any sense out of it.

Roberts had pulled Mrs. Caruthers aside when she arrived, updating her on the latest information gathered. The two stood outside the interrogation rooms door and knocked to alert the occupants.

Walking into the room the policeman introduced himself, “I am Detective Roberts of the New Hampshire State Police, I am joined by Mrs. Sandra Caruthers with New Hampshire’s Child Services.”

Mile and Emit stood to shake the officials’ hands.

Mike started: “Michael Williamson, Cameron’s legal guardian, I’m a public prosecutor with the Province of British Columbia, I will be Cameron’s co-counsel with Mr. Paulson.”

“Emit Paulson, junior partner with the law firm Montcliff and Lewis, I represent Mr. Burke.”

Cameron made the effort to stand and bowed slightly in greeting to the newcomers. Mrs Caruthers spotted the handcuffs and tsk’ed.

“He turned himself in! Can’t we do without the handcuffs?” she asked of the Inspector.

Roberts produced a key and moved towards Cameron, Cameron however flicked his wrist and handed the handcuffs to him. There was an awkward moment broken by Cameron sitting down, soon followed by everyone else claiming a seat at the table.

“Cameron, can I get your full name and title for the record?” asked Detective Roberts.

Cameron looked to Mike first who nodded, “Staff Sergeant Alex Cameron Burke of the RCMP, assigned to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

“Why were you at Whateley Academy?”

“I was trying to attend school.”

Mike interrupted to ask, “Cameron, be specific. Were you attending school at Whateley?”

“I was at Whateley, I was taking courses, but I didn’t attend classes at Whateley - unless dancing lessons fall under that definition.”

Mrs. Caruthers spoke up, “Wait a minute, you went to school, but didn’t attend classes. Why not?”

“I wasn’t allowed to until I had a high school diploma.” The blank looks at the table required he say more, “I had already been enrolled in distance learning so continued taking correspondence courses online to finish high school.”

Mr. Paulson had to field a question, “If you were accepted at a school to get an education, why didn’t they let you take classes?”

“The headmistress didn’t permit me to get registered.”

The Detective asked, “Do you have any evidence to support your claim?”

“In my backpack … which looks to be in secure storage at your station. Can I have it to show you?”

Detective Roberts left, and the room went silent until Mike spoke.

“Cameron, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was trying to solve my own problems, I didn’t want to burden you.”

“But this is so wrong!” Mike complained. “You had been enrolled as a student, they can’t deny giving you an education.”

“I guess I just wasn’t good enough to take their classes.”

“What do you mean by ‘not good enough’?” asked Emit Paulson

“It’s a school for mutants, I’m not a mutant,” replied Cameron.

The Detective returned with a backpack, it had been torn and cut in an effort to find items hidden within. The detective placed Cameron’s possessions on the table one at a time, each article produced had an evidence tag affixed. The policeman set down a small aluminum block almost the size of half a brick.

“Would you mind telling me what this is?” the inspector asked keeping his hand on the item in question.

“That’s my phone,” claimed Cameron. “It’s standard Special Investigations issue.”

“It has no openings!”

“That’s how I keep it secure, let me show you.” The detective handed it over to Cameron, once he lifted up the phone, its face appeared and he displayed it to those at the table, when he set it back down it returned to looking like a solid block of metal.

“And what is this?” questioned the police officer as he set down a slab of aluminum.

“My laptop. I figured if it ever got stolen it couldn’t be hacked if they couldn’t open it … or turn it on.”

“It sure had our techs baffled.”

“There’s a couple files I can show you,” mentioned Cameron motioning to have the computer given to him. Once in his hand the protective covering dissipated and he opened it. Detective Roberts moved to stand behind Cameron as the boy began to type in commands.

“What’s wrong with the screen?” asked Roberts.

“That’s what I need to be able to see it, just a second and I’ll set it up for you,” said Cameron as he manipulated the keyboard. “There, ready to go,” informed Cameron as he turned the screen to allow the room to see it. “This recording is a download from my phone - taken when I spoke with Mrs Carson,” he explained and hit play.

The screen showed a well appointed room with a blonde lady seated behind a desk, her back was turned but the name plate on the desk clearly read Mrs Carson.

“Hello Mrs Carson, I understand you wanted to see me.”

“Don’t bother sitting Ronnie.”

“Who’s Ronnie?” asked Mrs. Caruthers

“It’s the name my little brother called me,” supplied Cameron, and the recording resumed.

“Do I hand you over to the MCO? See if they want a piece of you?”

“No!”

“If you stay, you’re not going to be very welcome - the students will hate you.”

“I’m willing to try.”

“Very well, I’m assigning you detention… how long you stay on it will depend entirely upon you, ensure you sign in at Security everyday.”

“Ma’am, perhaps there’s been a mistake?”

“Don’t push me Ronnie! So help me I’ll turn you over to the MCO myself, and don’t show your face at this office again until you have a high school diploma in your hand.”

Mike looked at the boy with his mouth hanging open, he had no words to express his feelings. Mrs. Caruthers had a to fight back a tear and needed a moment to compose herself before asking:

“You tried to adhere to the directions, didn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” said a dejected Cameron.

“And detention?” questioned Mr. Paulson.

“I worked in the sewers a lot, sometimes I was assigned manual labour and given some of the more disgusting tasks they could think of.”

“When did it end?”

“It didn’t.”

“That was three months ago! What days did you get off?” required Mike.

“None, I was told to show up everyday. I worked when their classes let out weekdays and all day on weekends.”

Mike hung his head and appeared to be shaking as he sat and tried to compose himself. Mr. Paulson had been taking notes and was busy writing during the brief bit of silence in the room. Detective Roberts had jotted some notes as well, but was checking some other documents.

Detective Roberts commented, “That fits with the time cards from maintenance, and security’s day logs.”

Mrs. Caruthers sighed deeply, then looked at the boy as she asked, “Where did you stay while at Whateley?”

Cameron typed a few strokes then turned the screen to the lady. “I had a nice spot down by a lake,” said Cameron, as the laptop showed a series of photographs of his campsite.

Mike was beside himself when asking, “They put you up in a tent?!”

“It’s my tent! Whateley didn’t assign me a place to stay so I improvised.”

“Why didn’t you complain?” Put forward Mr. Paulson, on the edge of his seat in anticipation of the answer.

“If I went to the office I would be turned over to the MCO!” replied Cameron.

A dejected Mike supplied, “The MCO already tried to kill you on nine different occasions, going to the office was tantamount to handing yourself over to an executioner.”

“And why I escaped from Doyle, I couldn’t allow Whateley to hand me over to them,” illuminated Cameron.

“Is that why you surrendered directly to the state police? To avoid contact with the MCO?” surmised Mr. Paulson.

“Yes!” replied Cameron.

“Cameron, do you have anyone who can corroborate where you stayed?” asked the Detective.

“Oh sure. I helped out some government recruiters during a bad spell of weather.” Cameron pointed to his laptop, “See! Here’s a picture of us in my tent.” Cameron placed a printed page on the table, “This is their contact info.”

“Please explain what you did for food?” questioned Mrs. Caruthers. “Whateley has no record of your eating at the cafeteria.”

“I wasn’t given a student pass, so I couldn’t eat there,“ said Cameron, at which Mike dropped his head onto the table and began banging it against the surface.

“What did you do?” asked Mr. Paulson nearly begging to be told.

“I made an arrangement with Mr. Cooper. When he came to school to collect the garbage he’d bring me supplies to offset what I didn’t have.”

“Please be very clear,” directed Detective Roberts. “Mr. Cooper is facing charges of smuggling contraband, what did he supply you with?”

“Milk, eggs, sometimes yogurt. I just needed dairy products.”

“What was the nature of your agreement?” asked Roberts.

Cameron checked with Mr. Paulson, he seemed as interested as everyone else in the answer so Cameron replied, “I would empty the schools dumpsters so Mr. Cooper didn’t need to make extra runs to dispose of the school’s garbage.”

“What did you do with the garbage?” wondered Mrs. Caruthers.

“I used most of it to repair the broken stuff they had me fix during detention.”

Mr. Paulson sought the complete answer, “And the other?”

“Some of the food I ate. They threw out a lot of really good stuff.”

Mike had tears rolling down his face at this point, “You had to resort to dumpster diving to stay alive!”

Sandra Caruthers needed a moment to collect her emotions, she took a couple pages out of her folder and passed it over to Mike. “Mr. Williamson, can you confirm that this is a receipt for tuition paid to Whateley, that the amount included expenses to cover room and board for Cameron Burke?”

Mr. Paulson looked over Mike’s shoulder at the number and gave a low whistle as Mike responded, “Yes, this is a copy of the cheque I sent to Whateley, and the receipt they issued indicating it was paid in full.”

“Thank you,” said the lady. “I believe I have everything to proceed with my case,” she informed the room as she gathered up her belongings. “Cameron, If you need anything - please contact me,” was offered as she handed him her business card.

Turning to Cameron’s guardian next, “Mr. Williamson, don’t blame yourself. I will direct the state not to make any motions against you, you acted in good faith and sought Cameron’s best interests,” she announced prior to leaving the room.

There was a great weight hanging over the room’s occupants that teetered in the balance as everyone waited for it to drop, Cameron broke the tension by asking, “Is it lunchtime? I’m starving.”

~o~O~o~

The interrogation continued after the break. Detective Roberts arranged for pizza to be brought in and Mr. Paulson paid for it - he winked at Cameron saying he’s on an expense account.

Detective Roberts hadn’t joined them for lunch, but when he returned he mentioned he’d had to review his case in light of the new information, but still had more questions and he brought a laptop into the room with him.

Pointing the computer’s screen towards Cameron he asked, “I’d like to show you some footage of your arrest, can you give me a play by play description?”

“I can’t see video, is it possible to play it frame by frame?”

“I’ve watched it as a slide show myself,” the Inspector admitted.

Cameron explained the setting; It was in Whateley’s maintenance yard. The camera’s vantage point clearly showed Cameron receiving a package from the garbage truck driver. Cameron stepped backwards a few steps away from the truck and waved goodbye to Mr Cooper. From a place of concealment, a female Whateley Security guard appeared and moved fast sneaking up quickly behind Cameron. Even in super-slow-motion the speed with which she took the parcel out of Cameron’s hand was hard to track.

Cameron began to turn, resulting in the woman reaching out to grab hold of him. It looked like the woman became petrified and fell backward into the snow.

The Detective paused the picture, and asked, “What did she say to you?”

Cameron mused for a second, then muttered outloud: “I wonder?” He asked if he could have access to his phone again and when granted - turned it on and rewound the recording system; he set it to play and let everyone listen.

The sound of a large truck could be heard followed by the squeal of brakes.

“Sorry I’m late, the roads don’t-cha-know,” was said by a man Cameron identified as Mr. Cooper.

“Looks like almost a foot of snow has come down.”

“Yah, it’ll be touch-an-go getting back to town.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Nah, Betsy here is a tough ol’ gal, she’s never let me down.”

“Betsy is the trucks name,” informed Cameron.

“Here: best be taking these supplies, I won’t be back till next year - so I hope it’s enough to last you … Oh! The mayor sent a little something extra, some of his wife’s famous rhubarb muffins.”

“I love rhubarb. Thanks Coop!”

There were some muffled sounds then a truck rev’ed its engine and moved away.

A loud command was yelled: “Don’t Move!”

Cameron was heard saying: “What? Hey! Thats mine!”

After that there was some indistinguishable sounds before the recording stopped.

Detective Roberts sat back into his chair and put his folded hands up to his mouth and rested his chin on his thumbs. Mike and Emit looked at each other as the policeman was deep in thought.

When the detective spoke, he asked, “Cameron, can I get a copy of that recording?”

“Sure,” responded the curious boy.

“Gentlemen, I’m going to lay my cards on the table,” directed Roberts. “Cameron’s arrest won’t stand up in court, the arresting officer did not identify themselves as an enforcement officer, nor did they state that Cameron was under arrest. As such, any action Cameron took can be considered self defence.”

The room was stunned at the man’s forthright proclamation.

“Furthermore, having Cameron placed into confinement was an infringement of his liberty, he had every right to escape,” the policeman admitted. “I am prepared to assist you, if you want to lay charges against the state police for wrongful confinement.”

It took a second for the shock to wear off, a quick look at Mike showed him shaking his head no, while Mr. Paulson bobbed his head yes.

Cameron responded by saying; “I am of the opinion that the officer was acting in the public’s best interests; based upon the information he had available. I don’t want to press charges against the police,” much to Paulson’s chagrin.

“Are you prepared to press charges against Whateley at this time?” asked the Detective.

Mr. Paulson took charge by saying, “My client and I haven't had that discussion yet.”

“Very well,” confirmed Roberts. “Now! While I must wait for the labs report on the package’s contents, I’m willing to accept the word of a fellow officer of the law that his statement is true, I won’t proceed with drug charges at this time.”

“Does that mean Cameron is free to go?” asked Mike Williamson

“As long as you remain in Berlin, I see no reason to keep Sergeant Burke in custody. Will you be staying at your Hotel?” requested the Detective of Mike.

Berlin NH, January 2, 2008

Cameron and Mike Williamson had just been shown to a table in the hotel’s restaurant and started perusing the lunch menu. Mr. Paulson was preoccupied with a phone call he’d taken in the lobby.

Last night and again this morning the three had been talking in Mike’s hotel room about Cameron’s experiences at Whateley, trying to draw the boy out and get a feel for all he’d experienced and work through what their next move would be.

Mike had gotten over his shock, with the resulting aftermath that he was angry, but Cameron was done with being hurt and wanted to forget it. It was Mr Paulson who walked the middle ground and sought a measured approach.

Cameron spotted Ella, she was sitting at a nearby booth. Cameron motioned that she should come and join them but she flagged that off - preferring to keep distant.

Mr. Paulson sat down with them at the table and asked, “Is it too late for pancakes?”

Mike chipped in, “The Belgian waffles look good”.

Detective Roberts arrived and surprising everyone by saying: “I recommend the Philly cheesesteak”.

“Detective, do you have news for us?” asked Mr. Paulson inviting the policeman to sit.

“I received a fax from the Boston crime lab this morning,” he said while presenting a page and putting it on the table. “The tests came back negative for drugs.”

“That’s great news!” proclaimed Mike.

“Indeed, I though I’d better deliver it in person, and offer apologies on behalf of the department.”

“Thank you,” granted Cameron. “How about Mr. Cooper?”

“I called and told him already, Whateley doesn’t consider food items contraband, so his case is dropped too. He asked about you.”

“I’ll have to get in touch and try to make it up to him,” remarked Cameron.

“The lab was curious as to why I sent them my groceries, they figured I might be investigating a consumer complaint because the two percent milk only had 1.98 percent milk fat. They did ask about the letter that was in the package addressed to you - shall I have it sent back to me?”

Mr. Paulson jumped in, “Send it to my office in Boston. We’ll be heading there later today, as long as there’s no need for Cameron to remain in Berlin?”

“Nothing keeping him here, as long as he lets me buy his lunch,” jested Roberts. “Oh! By the way, the folks at the crime lab asked for the rhubarb muffin recipe.”

~o~O~o~

Mike and Cameron dropped Mr. Paulson off at the Berlin airport, then pointed the rental SUV in the direction of Boston and headed down the highway.

Their conversation ranged from how Cameron’s friends back in Prince George were doing, to Mike’s thoughts regarding the Supreme Court of Canada’s review of Cameron’s case.

They stopped for gas, with Mike getting himself a large coffee to go. When Mike got back to the vehicle Cameron was sound asleep in the passenger seat. It started to snow so Mike shifted the vehicle into its four wheel drive setting. Falling snow has a hypnotic effect and Mike felt himself getting drowsy, he turned the radio on to break up the monotony.

In the distance Mike saw flashing lights and slowed down as he approached the hazard, reaching over he tapped Cameron and told him to wake up. The lights were from a single police cruiser at the site of an accident. Cameron checked out what was happening and moaned.

“It’s a bus, it went off the road and flipped on its side.”

“Are people hurt?”

After a moment of looking out the window Cameron replied, “Yes!”

Conducting a quick scan, Cameron pointed Mike to a spot where he could pull over. Cameron donned his RCMP jacket and handed Mike a reflective vest.

“I’ll help the patrolman, if you set out road flares and alert traffic.”

Mike felt a wave of pride wash over him as he said, “Be careful.”

“Make you a deal, let’s both be careful,” called back Cameron as he moved quickly towards the bus.

To Camerons eyes, the bus had been traveling the opposite direction he and Mike were going. The bus’ tires had caught some deeper snow on the roadside which pulled the bus into the ditch. The way the bus was laying the door was against the ground. A policeman had scaled up onto the bus and was working to open the emergency access window.

Cameron called up to the woman officer and announced, “RCMP: I’m here to help, I have a man on the road directing traffic.”

“I called it in, Ambulance and Fire are on their way!” shouted back the lady. “The door is blocked, I don’t see another way in!”

“I’ll make a hole!” shouted up Cameron as he rounded the front of the bus. In the roof behind the driver he dissipated the metal and looked inside. Passengers were strewn about, some stood amid the confusion and they were trying to help those closest to them. Most lay against the bus’ side - now floor.

Cameron looked at the driver, he was knocked unconscious but no serious injuries, his seat belt holding him in place. Cameron dissipated the first three rows of seats, and helped prop passengers against either side to clear a passageway.

There were some cuts, but little blood. People had gotten banged up pretty bad when those on the high side fell onto those below them. There were sprained arms and a couple fractured bones with a lot of shock - nothing so serious that prevented him from moving further into the bus.

The next four rows yielded similar results, although a woman was unconscious from a free-fall onto her head; she needed attention. Cameron asked that she be given room then checked her neck and spine. It didn’t take much to repair the damaged vertebra and he eased the swelling, then placed her into the recovery position.

One of the passengers who had come through unharmed was standing nearby, looking at him. Cameron saw the energy signature. Cameron had observed this kid before, a student from Whateley: Dumpy, his old fellow sewer rat.

“DT, keep watch over this lady, if she regains consciousness don’t let her move.”

Dump Truck had a look of bewilderment, but nodded his head to indicate he understood. Cameron slide past him in the confined area and removed the next couple sets of seats bringing him to where the patrol woman was at - after having lowered herself into the bus.

“Cameron,” he identified himself, as he came up beside her.

“Nancy,” she replied, “keep doing what you’ve been doing, I’ll be on your six.”

The two then worked as a team making their way down the bus. The fire department arrived and the emergency response men began removing people from the front of the bus as the two of them began freeing the driver.

The space was getting too crowded so Cameron made another opening. A fireman popped his head in and asked if they needed help; Cameron directed him to the unconscious lady and reported her spinal injury.

The next seats revealed a woman holding a baby. She was in distress as her child was laying quiet in her arms, Nancy indicated she would deal with this and that Cameron should keep going.

Eventually Cameron arrived at the last three sets of seats that were a mess beyond what any of the other passenger’s experienced from the bus’ upset. The overturned washroom had spilled out its contents and showered people with the blue chemical used in the tank. A teenage girl was sitting huddled in a corner crying; shock had rendered her incoherent.

The others who had occupied the back seats had no critical injuries aside from some nasty bruises. Their state of mind ranged from stages of panic to anger.

Cameron cleaned the blue stain from the people. Then the girl began to choke. Cameron asked that he be given room and knelt beside her.

“Can you breath?” he asked.

It took a couple tries, but she did manage to draw in a couple shallow breaths; she shivered and pulled her arms tight against herself. Cameron handed her a blanket and helped cover her up. She looked up at him with tear laden eyes, the tears had tracked down her cheeks.

Cameron reached out to wipe a tear away saying to her, “You’re going to be all-right, it’s okay!”

She said in a small voice, “Promise?”

Cameron sat beside her and managed to say, “Promise!” before he started to cry.

~o~O~o~

The bus had been emptied and emergency workers had people scattered across the roadside. The most serious cases had been triaged and loaded onto the first of the ambulances. The fire truck was the operations centre, and Cameron headed towards it.

Sitting on one the big red firetrucks bumpers was Mike and Ella, they shared a blanket which was draped over their shoulders.

“Cameron!” called out Mike. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Cameron - Ella, Ella - Cameron. This young lady was just a minute behind us - she helped me direct traffic. She has these amazing flashlights that cut through the snow that warned the oncoming cars, and …”

Mike was cut off when Nancy stepped up beside Cameron and indicated he was wanted elsewhere. Bringing the boy down the side of the fire truck, she positioned him in front of a fireman.

“Captain, here’s the young man I told you about,” announced the patrolwoman.

Grabbing Camerons hand, the fireman shook it vigorously. “In all my years I’ve never seen the like!” Holding Cameron at arms length he spun the boy around to read his jacket. “If you ever leave the RCMP, I’ll hire you in a heartbeat,” proclaimed the Captain.

Cameron felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, as he turned he was wrapped into a hug by the girl from the bus. She whispered ‘thank you’ into his ear, with her then being directed over to a waiting medic.

Nancy gave him a nudge and said, “There’s nothing I can say to top that,” as she gave him a quick salute, then hurried off to attend to other concerns.

Cameron gave his statement to a policeman before leaving the emergency scene. Mike and Ella had made arrangements for them to travel in tandem the remaining distance to Boston, considering the poor road conditions.

Cameron was stoic as they drove, Mike gave the boy sitting beside him a few glances, but after awhile he said,“Talk to me Cameron, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Cameron smiled sheepishly at his friend, “I had a breakdown in the bus,” he admitted. "I was helping a frightened young girl - it reminded me of myself, and I flashed back to when … when I was that scared kid on a roadside in the middle of nowhere.”

Cameron didn’t say anything for a couple minutes.

“She came and hugged me afterwards.” He choked up briefly but started again, “I don’t know if I’ve ever said thank you - to you, to Grace, Marcus … everyone. I don’t think I could ever say thank you enough.”

Mike was at a loss for words, for a lawyer that’s saying something.

“I’ve tried so hard to make everybody happy, so that they’d like me. I don’t think I can do that anymore … or if I even care any-longer.”

“You care Cameron, some might say too much. Back there - at the accident: you didn’t skip a beat and were out the door helping.”

“Yah but …”

“Let me finish. I’ve had to force myself to step back, to let you face challenges… that honestly I could never imagine taking on.”

“Yah but …”

“The day I met you: so fragile yet so tenacious when you came out of that coma. Did I tell you that I went home that night and cried, I didn’t know if I had the courage …if I was brave enough to take on your case. Do you know what my wife said to me to help me persevere? ‘I love you’!”

“Yah but …”

“Love! It’s what gives us the strength to face anything. Cameron - there’s a lot of people that love you, including me,” Mike paused to catch his breath.“That damned school chewed you up and spat you out! Everyone around you can see that you are hurting. But if you stop loving - the best part of you is gone, cause best as I can tell: you love everyone.”

“Yah …. But …”

“Are you trying to sound like Fred Flintstone with a stutter?”

“Dabba do,” humoured Cameron as his thoughts took a run leaving him quiet, but he eventually stated, “The world isn’t black and white is it.”

“No. It’s the whole spectrum in magnificent, vibrant, vivid colours.”

“How do you tell the difference between what’s right and wrong?”

Mike stayed silent for a time before saying: “That question is much easier to ask than to answer. I believe it’s tied to your morals and values - those speak to you’re being a good person.”

“Do you suppose villains think of themselves as good people?”

“I’ve had to prosecute people who in all earnestness felt they hadn’t done anything wrong, but for the good of society they had to be stopped.”

“If everybody thinks it’s right - does that make it right?”

“It’s called the mob mentality: a professor of mine likened it to when a herd of buffalo was driven over a cliff. It’s taking the natural inclination of wanting to be part of a group - and using that desire to gain control of the whole. A normally reasonable person, on their own, would never do something stupid until a crowd was all doing it.”

“Is it that people don’t see, or just don’t care that they are being manipulated?”

“Politicians, businesses, religion … they all depend on manipulation.”

“Some have wanted to call me a manipulator because I alter molecules. I don’t like that term.”

“I can’t blame you.”

“How do you effect change, if the status-quo is taking you towards a cliff?”

“It takes someone with strong convictions to stand up and point people in another direction.”

“Did you become a lawyer because you wanted to help people?”

“Who hasn’t dreamed of changing the world - making it a better place. But I discovered I could only do it one person at a time. Until … ”

“Until?”

“You came along, I never thought I’d ever have a hearing before the Supreme Court - it has the authority to bring about change: change laws, alter peoples thinking, effect attitudes … the highest court can alter societies course.”

“It could make a difference to a whole lot of people” ascertained Cameron. “Even if it means hurting those that don’t want to make a change?”

“I guess the question becomes; if they know there’s a cliff ahead - why are they running headlong towards it?”

“This feels like one of those, ‘the good of the many outweighs the needs of the few’, moments.”

“I’m not qualified to administer that kind of advice … how about, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. I know I read that somewhere.”

“I think the biggest life defining decision I can handle right now is: if spring rolls come with the stir fry.”

“You hungry?”

“Yeah, let’s stop and eat.”

Mike pulled off the highway into a roadside restaurant. When Ella parked beside them she agreed that food was a good idea and asked to join them. Once inside, Mike excused himself and headed to the washroom, leaving Cameron and Ella alone at the table.

“How much did you tell Mike?” asked Cameron.

“I revealed nothing, I assumed you would enlighten yours as you saw fit,” affirmed Ella.

“I didn’t know where to begin.”

“Was that meant as a joke?”

“No. Sorry - no. I’m not certain how much to tell him,” confessed Cameron. “I don’t want him to check me into a rubber walled hotel room with a huggy-jacket in my size.”

“If you need a place to stay, my house isn’t far, … but I don’t have any ‘huggy-jackets’. Is that something you Canadians wear?”

“Only the ones with mental problems,” supplied Cameron.

“Then by all means, we should get one for you,” recommended Ella.

Mike sat down beside Cameron and fixed both of them in a stern look for a second before saying: “Okay, I want some straight answers. Why has Ella been tailing us since we left the police station in Berlin, and why would she have some of your flashlights?”

“My flashlights?” questioned Cameron.

“You don’t think I wouldn’t recognize your handiwork? Beams of light twice as bright than anything available on the market, in the hands of - I’m guessing a Were,” detailed Mike. “You had another run-in with that black slime, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” admitted Ella.

“And?” petitioned Mike.

“When I left Whateley I was ill. I encountered Ella on the road and she took me to the Mediwihla until I got better. One night the black-slime guys attacked - Ella and I figured out a way to defeat them, now the Were think I’m their prophesied saviour, and Ella is my warrior in waiting.”

Mike turned to Ella and asked, “Is this true?”

“In a crude and in-elegant way, he speaks rightly.”

~o~O~o~

Mike accepted the invitation to stay the night at Ella’s only after a long explanation as they ate. Arriving at Ella’s house the girl stepped out of her Jeep and made three yips into the night air. Then she welcomed them into her home.

The building was recessed into a hillside with the front looking like a frontier home. Inside it was comfortable, it had warmth and was inviting. Ella showed Mike to a bedroom and pointed Cameron to the couch. While Cameron took up the offer of a place to sleep, Ella and Mike talked for a long time in the kitchen.

The sky had just started to show light hinting that dawn was approaching. Cameron had woken but lay quietly on the couch, deep in meditation just enjoying the calm.

A gentle knock on the door caught his attention, and he rose to answer the door. Standing on the doorstep were two little kids: a boy no older than eight, and his younger sister. She stood behind her older brother peeking out at Cameron, letting the bigger boy act as cover.

“Are you awake mister?”

“Let me check,” advised Cameron, who turned to look quickly into the house. “I think I’m still in bed.”

“Oh!” Responded the timid boy, dropping his head. “Mom said not to bug you until you were awake.”

“That was very thoughtful of her. But don’t worry - I had to get up to answer the door anyway.”

“Did ‘L’ bring you with her cause you’re the guy?” asked the little man, his sister giving him a nudge.

“‘L’ hasn’t figured out it out yet.”

“Mom said ‘L’ would only ever bring home her mate or the promised guy.”

“Well! Sounds like I could gets some rumours flying.”

“We only keep chickens here, and there’s some doves roosting in the old barn. We don’t have any rumours,” corrected the boy.

“In for a penny…” mumbled Cameron, reminding himself of the old adage to be fully committed to a chosen path.

“You know my sister?”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Cameron”

“I’m Tylor, and this is my sister Penny,” said the young fellow as he pointed to the shy girl behind him.

The little girl had copper colour hair, the name she was given would be a lifelong embarrassment, or a badge of honour.

“Penny is a beautiful name for such an attractive young lady.”

“She’s not a lady, she’s my sister,” countered the boy, receiving a punch from his sibling.

“What can I do for you two rapscallions?”

“Mom is preparing a party at the meeting place … our job is to invite Ella and guests. We can show you the way if you want?”

“Just let me leave a note for Ella and Mike, and I’ll be right with you,” conceded Cameron.

Tylor and Penny showed Cameron around the small collection of houses, as his two guides took him on a meandering tour of their favourite places to play, while giving a commentary of the people and places that made up their tribe.

The meeting place was a building that served many of the tribes needs such as a community centre, and school. As they approached, the sound of activity was accompanied by the smell of cooking food. Once at the door Tylor and Penny darted off to get the attention of a woman that also had copper hair, and shared the same signature as the children.

Cameron looked around the hall which was busy with tables being set up and chairs placed; the kitchen had people working a stoves and preparing dishes. Tylor and Penny dragged their Mom up to him and Cameron extended his hand, but she wrapped him in a hug.

“If Ella welcomed you into her home, then you are as good as family to us,” the lady greeted. “Megan: and you’ve met my little monsters.”

“The best welcoming committee ever,” smiled Cameron. “Megan,” he added. “Is there something I can do to help?” as he gestured to the goings on.

“If you wouldn’t mind setting out the cutlery, Penny can help with the napkins,” directed Megan. “Tylor, see if David needs a hand with the fire - he doesn’t have it going yet.”

Cameron asked Penny what was the preferred manner of placement, and they went around finishing the given task. When they were done, she had maybe said all of three words to him, but Cameron caught her frequently staring at him.

The room was ready, the food was smelling fantastic, and the fire had finally had gotten lit and was burning away in the large fireplace. As if on cue, Ella and Mike walked in. Ella was embraced by many before an announcement was made for everyone to grab a seat.

Cameron was happy that he could just sit off to a side, and Mike joined him. Also at the table was an older man, not a Were - but part of the community.

There was much talking, but that halted when the door opened and a woman entered and everyone hushed. Cameron recognized her as the lady Ella had been taking care of at the Mediwihla Village, but the big surprise was when Ben followed in behind her.

The lady and Ben were taken to the head table, and once they were seated, the food began to be served. Cameron’s table got heaps of pancakes, while most of the other tables had every type of meat possible.

Mike questioned the difference and Cameron told him that Were like a high protein diet - so lots of meat, not that they complained - the pancakes were great.

When the meal was done, the room came alive with talking and laughing. Cameron saw Ben moving towards him, but Mike was caught off-guard when the big man sat down beside him.

“I hear tell you are Cameron’s guardian, what weapon do you favour?” Ben asked Mike.

“It might be better said that I am Cameron’s step-father,” reasoned Mike. “I think Ella better suits the title Guardian.”

“Ha!” laughed Ben. “I see where the boy has learned humility.”

“You know Cameron then?”

“Ohhp, shouldn’t have been flapping my jaws,” remarked Ben. “Either Cameron’s keeping tight lipped, or he’s not had time to tell the tale.”

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me?”

“If no one else claims teller’s rights, then by all means.” Ben looked to Cameron and the boy waved him off.

Ben recounted the evening when those claimed by the dark-death, the voodoo wolves, had attacked the Mediwihla Village. He told how Ella had charged in and laid out a plan to not only deflect but defeat the dark forces.

Encircling the foe with light, then pelting them with mystical little balls that rendered the dark-ones weak - and then consume the contaminate, freeing those enslaved by the darkness.

When Ben mentioned both the lights and the little balls, Mike gave Cameron a look of intrigue, but allowed Ben to continue. To emphasize the trueness of his tale, Ben exposed the still fresh scar on his arm, to show where he had been infected.

It wasn’t until Ben concluded his telling, that Mike noticed that the whole room had pressed close to hear. It was then that the lady who had been the guest of honour, the woman who had been freed from the contamination, stepped up beside Cameron.

Cameron stood to be introduced, but instead she knelt on a knee and bowed her head. The people around gasped, and Cameron said under his breath ‘not this again’. Cameron took off his visor, the golden light washing out over the room, and he looked out at the swarm around him.

Mike remained seated at the table, but everyone else had taken a knee - including Ben, and Ella.

“I don’t seek your pledge, or ask for allegiance. But I am grateful for your welcome and hospitality. Please; today you celebrate the return of one of your lost family, that is reason enough for joy.”

Berin NH

Amelia Hartford had been home all of a half hour. She had had to fly to Venice on a highly sensitive mission for the Cabal, and this particular situation called for some very discreet activities of a clandestine nature, which included hacking into one of the most secure mainframes on the planet to extract some data.

It wasn’t all business, as her fiancee had been able to meet her so they could spend an afternoon in Venice. A gondola ride along Venetian canals certainly ranks up there as being one of the most romantic things a couple can do.

Her return flight only arrived a short time ago, and she planned to relax a little before picking back-up at Whateley and classes resumed for the new semester.

A discreet knock on her apartment door had her check through the spy-hole to see who it was; a uniformed officer stood outside. She opened the door expecting the worst, as a life of miss-deeds flooded her memory to try to explain the officers presence.

“Hello Officer, can I help you?” she asked through a door held slightly ajar.

“Amelia Hartford?” questioned the officer.

“Yes,” Amelia responded, waiting for the hammer to fall.

“Ma’am, Detective Roberts was hoping you could come down to the station. He understands you are an administrator at Whateley Academy, and he has some questions regarding a student.”

The assistant headmistress said little on the ride to the police station, and was shown to small interview room. The police officers asked if she wished anything to drink and got her a diet cola.

The Detective was prompt, and had her drink in hand as he entered the room.

“Ms. Hartford, I am Detective Roberts. I’m investigating a case involving a student at Whateley. I’m hoping you could fill in a few gaps for me.”

“Whateley has over three hundred students, I hope I can recall the one that has caught the police’s attention.”

“Teenagers do have a knack for finding trouble,” admitted Roberts. “I’m glad both of mine have grown out of that stage … now I just have to worry about grandkids.”

“You don’t look a day over forty.”

“I wish the mirror lied as well as you,” he chuckled. “You had a good trip out of the country?”

“Have you had me under surveillance?”

“No, I asked the school when they had expected your return.”

“I see. And the student?”

“Cameron Burke.”

“Oh! He finally came to surface.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve been waiting to hear from him. He went missing after I’d made some … delicate arrangements for him.”

“That was after he was attacked on campus?”

“Yes,” confirmed Amelia, surprised the police had knowledge of the incident. “I had his admittance papers ready to go, and was waiting for him to return to the office to complete them. When he didn’t show up I could only assume he had second thoughts about attending our fine school, and ran home to mommy … or.”

“Yes?”

“Or, in consideration of his appointment with the police, it was possible that he was re-assigned.”

“Had you made any inquiries as to his whereabouts?”

“We aren’t truant officers. If a student doesn’t want to come to school - we don’t force them,” informed the administration professional. ”I kept his file open since families often request a refund on tuition, even though the admittance form clearly states the school’s ‘no refund’ policy.”

“Had Headmistress Carson been informed of Cameron Burke’s situation?”

“Of course, I spoke with her about the solution we had arrived upon over the attack, and that he was a ‘no-show’.”

“Do you often get students that don’t show up?”

“Perhaps a couple a year, most of the children are courteous enough to call and inform us regarding a change of plans.”

“So to be perfectly clear: You haven’t had any contact with Mr. Burke since September 25th, 2007?”

“None what so ever,” concluded Ms. Hartford.

Montcliff and Lewis’ Office, Boston

Mike Williamson and Cameron walked into the office building that housed the prestigious law firm. Mike made the introductions to the receptionist, after which she placed a call to Mr. Paulson to see which meeting room to direct them to.

They were taken upstairs to the second floor where all the private consultation rooms were located.

The space was cordoned off into fancy rooms so lawyers could confer with clients in a relaxed setting. The far walls were floor to ceiling glass looking out over Boston, and Cameron noticed that the first room they walked past was named 2A. They halted in front of the next room, and it was checked to see if occupied. They were shown in and told that Mr. Paulson would be with them soon.

Cameron was the first to enter, passing by the door he drew Mike’s attention to the door plate.

Mike was distracted and asked, ”What?”

“2B or not 2B, was the question.”

“No, that is the question.”

“Isn’t the question if it’s 2B?”

“It’s: To be or not to be - that is the question.”

“That’s not an answer to a question.”

“There needs to be a question first.”

“How about 2C?”

“There has to be a way to get to a boat later.”

“It looks to be a nice day, I’m glad they showed us to a room with view of the water.”

“I should take you to a specialist to see if you’re okay, you seem to be delusional.”

“If we went to a different room, say 2C, It looks to be a view of downtown.”

“We need to be careful, if we want to see the sights, we could look to a guide for directions.”

“2B works for me, are you happy to be in 2B?”

“2B suits me to a T.”

Emit Paulson entered the room to find his clients in a fit of laughter. “You two need to be quieter, the people in 2A can hear you laughing. I’ll have to see if we can move to 2C.”

Emit rolled his eyes when the two burst into laughter, and had to ask, “Are you two all right?”

Cameron replied, “That is to be determined, I always wanted to go to sea,” then cut into another silly laugh.

Emit offered his guests beverages which had the effect of settling them down. Mr. Paulson proceeded to explain that Mr Lewis - as in ‘the’ Lewis of ‘Montcliff and Lewis’ had spoken with Bruce Goodkind.

Mr. Paulson told them that Mr. Goodkind had taken an intense interest in Cameron’s predicament, and instructed the firm to make every effort to secure representation of the case. Mr. Goodkind has offered to cover all costs associated with the lead action. He’d been hoping a high profile case would present itself, one that could prove to be … scandalous against mutants.

The Montcliff and Lewis legal team was anxious to represent Cameron. They had been waiting since Mike Williamson had first talked to them for a slam-dunk case like Cameron’s to walk in the door… and here he was.

Emit began to ask Cameron some more questions about Whateley.

“Why do you suppose Mrs. Carson said the students at the school would hate you?”

“I think it’s because they are taught to hate everybody! They look after their own well enough thou, but if you don’t measure up - buy into the program … you’re just dog-food.” Cameron replied. Then seeing that more info was needed, “They are so prejudiced that the mutant kids with deformities have to be housed separately.”

“What do you mean by ‘The Program’?”

“The school is little more than a front for a weapons factory, those kids are being taught to fight and maximize their destructive potential. Children are being taught to look at everyone and everything as a threat and how to destroy it. I am sorry to say that Whateley makes sure its students get so cranked full of angst and hatred that, … you won’t believe this, they have to beat each other each up and get graded on it.”

“You’re joking!”

“Honest! Just before the holidays, they forced every student into these ‘combat finals’ where they had to fight for scores - like it was an exam or something. The students and staff were even betting on who would win matches … I was shocked at the bloodlust.”

“I’ve heard stories about ‘Mutant Death Matches.’”

“I saw that the fights were broadcast, but don’t know if anyone died. I couldn’t watch them, … from the activity at Doyle, there were serious injuries for-sure.”

“I can look into finding some of the broadcasts.”

“I have a recording of the bit that I saw - it’s on my phone.”

“Tell me, were you put in the ring?”

“No…thankfully, I couldn’t figure out what was going on at first - everyone was so amped up. I snuck into the arena to watch, I left in disgust and didn’t go back. All the talk around me for days was about ‘who beat who’, and ‘who got ranked’ as the most badass.”

“That’s not right!”

“I was shocked to find out that the worst kind of punishment they’ll hand out, is to force students to go to the GSD dorm. They treat those poor kids like lepers or something.”

“So, you were ostracized because you didn’t fit into the program … submit to their programming?”

“I’ve seen how kids form cliches and browbeat each other at school before,” detailed Cameron. “Here they make gangs to become invincible, then they book time in simulators to practice beating each other up, … and get critiqued in case they missed an opportunity to inflict damage.

“Why on earth did you stay?”

“At first I wanted to take some of the specialty subjects offered, but when they demanded I have a high school diploma before they’d even consider admitting me … it seems pointless now! Besides, I don’t think I’ll ever go back there.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I? Cause here’s the score as I see it:

One: Whateley and the MCO want me dead.
Two: The headmistress has it out for me, and she’s one of the most powerful mutants out there.
Three: Most mutants want nothing to do with me.
Four: There is nothing that school teaches that I want to learn.”

“It’s alright Cameron, now comes the toughest question of all: What do you want to do? Shall we proceed with laying charges against the school?”

“I - shouldn’t,” said Cameron as he hung his head down in shame.

“Go ahead son: tell me how you really feel.”

“I want to tear that place to the ground; one lousy brick at a time, and wipe it off the face of the earth,” he said, with a tear tracking down his face.

“That’s an answer I can work with,” admitted Mr. Paulson. “Will you allow the law firm of Montcliff and Lewis to represent you?”

“Yes.”

Berlin Airport: Friday, January 4, 2008

The passengers aboard the small plane had begun disembarkation, people greeted loved ones as they exited the airport’s secure area. Clusters of students who had caught the scheduled flight back to Whateley Academy milled about waiting for their luggage to be off-loaded. They acted with a degree of restraint due to the headmistress also having been on the flight.

Keeping an eye on the stream of passengers, two New Hampshire State Troopers observed the crowd, waiting until a smartly dressed blonde woman wearing a beach hat entered the arrivals zone. She had a bronze tan from having been in the sun while on a vacation.

Approaching the lady, one of the Police Officers named Atkins, asked:

“Pardon me, are you Elizabeth Carson?”

“What can I do for you Officer?”

Addressing her formally, the policeman asked, “Mrs. Elizabeth Carson - also know as: Lady Astarte, Miss Miracle, and Miss Champion?”

“Yes,” responded the headmistress in a tone reflecting her curiosity.

“I am placing you under arrest,” stated the trooper. “You are charged with child abuse. You have the right to …” spoke the officer presenting her rights.

All activity in the vicinity stopped, aside from the man’s voice you could hear a pin drop. Everyone’s focus was upon the unfolding scene: no movement, not a squeak, not even a breath was taken.

From behind a screen stepped two MCO power frames, the clunk that the heavy machines feet made on the floor spiked everyones heart rate as an escalating situation was building, one which had all the baseline people frightened.

After a moment that felt like eternity, the headmistress extended her arms outward to permit the exemplar four rated handcuffs to be affixed to the heroine; then the officers escorted her out of the airport.

~o~O~o~

“All rise for the honourable Judge Stone,” announced the bailiff.

The small courtroom was set up in the traditional manner. Seating was set in rows aligned behind two tables so all present faced the podium that the judge now moved toward. He gave the audience a quick glance as he took his chair.

“This court’s first order of business is the arraignment of Mrs. Elizabeth Carson, aka Lady Astarte, on charges of child abuse laid by the state of New Hampshire,” read the Bailiff.

The judge’s attention turned from his bailiff toward the woman dressed in a chic designer outfit that showed a lot of leg. She had shackles on her hands and feet, but still carried an air of dignity about her and her presence spoke of authority. Although her hair was disheveled - she was still an attractive lady.

Looking down from his high station the judge asked, “Mrs. Carson, how do you plead?”

A suited woman: Mrs. Marissa Dawson, was seated next to the restrained lady. Acting as the headmistress’s lawyer, she stood and addressed the judge, “Not guilty your honour!”

“Counsel, do you object to court setting bail?” questioned the judge to the table in opposition.

“Your honour, the prisoner is by her very nature a flight risk - given that she has the ability to fly. We are asking that no bail be granted and she remain in custody for the duration of the trial.”

“Judge Stone!” cried out Mrs. Dawson. “My client has made no attempts at escape - she has voluntarily remained interned despite the facilities being insufficient to prevent her leaving. I ask that the court show leniency in granting bail in recognition of her years of service protecting the populous.”

“This court does recognize the reputation of the accused, but that must be tempered by the fact she never served as a member of a law enforcement agency - only acting as a vigilante dispensing justice as she saw fit. I cannot disregard the possibility that she would flee to suit her own ends.”

Marissa was already moving to stand in rebuttal when the Judge continued, “However, consideration must be extended since she has never before been charged with a crime. To that end I set bail at one million dollars, and issue a restraining order to prevent contact with the victim.” With that, he struck his gavel to end the matter.

Marisa Dawson turned to Mrs. Carson and gave the woman a warm smile followed by a hug. “The Board of Trustees authorized me to post bail, let’s get you home.”

End Part 2

What's the Matter With You: Part 3

Author:

Camospam

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Female to Male

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

What’s the Matter With You: Part 3

by Camospam, editing by Wendy K

The third 'It Matters' story following the adventures of Outlook, based in the Whateley Academy Universe.

“Cameron Burke will immediately submit himself to the Mutant Commission Office for testing!” the gavel’s bang affirmed the judges pronouncement.

The Court’s demand struck like a tsunami! The initial impact was overwhelming surprise followed quickly by a dread which swept over those present as the realization hit home; Cameron was being thrown to the wolves!

Mike Williamson and Karen Mitchell sat to Cameron’s right, they floundered trying to grasp at what had been said. Karen was visibly devastated. She sat staring down at the table in front of her since to even look over at Cameron she would have burst into tears, her anguish telling within her posture.

Mike for his part had his eyes closed, obviously concentrating deeply while his face held a scowl Cameron had only else encountered when his guardian spoke of the scene in the hospital when Cameron awoke from his coma. Mike initially felt helpless about Cameron being treated like a piece of meat …. but Cameron could see the resolve slowly return into the man’s face and heard the whispered words; No more! - Never again!

For Cameron it felt as if they’d lost the battle, the crushing weight of defeat had deflated his spirit.

As for the MCO contingent? It was overjoyed at the first volley with the Supreme Court being so overwhelmingly in their favour. The opposing table shared smiles and fist bumps in celebration.

Court is an arena of battle - not so different than Whateley Academy’s training grounds where physical powers were tested. However, this bastian was established for dispensing justice … where weapons were words, and devastating blows came from proving a point through reason, a battle won through swaying opinion, supporting ideas and ideals honed like blades which cleaved away until truth shone through. Cameron took a killing blow.

Mike Williamson stood to address the judges arrayed on the bench and spoke with full conviction. “May I direct the courts attention to the charter of human rights: An individual is entitled to self determination! Mr. Burke does not wish to be subjected to invasive testing.”

The bench was taken aback by the apparent rebuttal. “Is this court to understand that you wish to argue the merits of whether a mutant is human or not?” questioned the judge sitting beside the judiciary’s chairperson.

“Yes your honour, to be completely honest it does appear to be the logical progression for these proceedings to take. We need to explore the definition of being human, both dis-abled and en-abled,” exclaimed Mike.

The panel of judges formed a huddle and spoke between themselves for what felt like a very long time, but actually taking only five minutes before the judges’ spokesman addressed the room.

“Mr. Williamson, we agree with your assessment; it is in fact what piqued this panel’s curiosity and why it chose to hear this case. However, it has been determined that we cannot render a decision if the facts are not known. To that end, this court is of the opinion that Cameron Burke must submit himself for examination to determine how human he is.”

The defendant’s table had so far been excluded from participation in the debate since it appeared the judges had sided with them. This latest legal turn had brought them another measure of ecstasy. From among the MCO supporters an agent sitting in the gallery rushed Cameron striving to place handcuffs on him. Cameron quickly ducked under the table to escape, but found himself hemmed in on all sides by court officers and additional MCO reps eagerly encircling him until he was pressed up against the judges’ desk, sinking to the floor crying “no” to deaf ears.

Mike Williamson had to fight to be heard overtop the MCO mob, but eventually he managed to interject, “To enforce that decision is nothing more than government sanctioned rape!”

The chairman judge began to bang his gavel with vigour to get the melee’s attention. They were oblivious to anything other than restraining the struggling Cameron, forcing him flat onto the floor. An MCO agent pressed his knee into the boy’s back as handcuffs and shackles were clamped on.

“Mr. Williamson, you had better have a good explanation behind such an outrageous claim!” accused a seated judge, watching with satisfaction the assault happening just feet away.

“Forcing a medical procedure upon a person against their will is an act of rape - be it mental, emotional or physical. Taking away somebody's rights and freedoms without just cause is tantamount to making them a slave. Is it this court’s opinion that Cameron is no longer worthy of being a citizen of Canada?”

“You walk a dangerous path by making such accusations against the Court,” crowed one of the judges.

“Certainly, a central tenant of what it means to be a person must include conscious choice - deciding for ourselves what to think, feel, and believe.” Mike pointed towards the subdued boy beneath the swarm, “Society is judged by how it treats its most vulnerable citizens … Is this your picture of a just society?”

The lead lawyer for the defendants jumped at the chance of rebuttal. “The MCO is here to protect decent people from dangerous mutants! Our mandate is to control mutant activities, we can only do that by knowing what they are capable of. We must be able to defend against them.”

“And you’re very good at it too - you’ve denied them freedom at every turn; how to live, what work they can do, who to marry. In fact, people recoil in fear at the very word mutant.
The MCO’s zeal has yielded a crop of fear and hatred, to the extent that they have pushed us to the cusp of spawning the very thing they sought to prevent; a mutant apocalypse!
Soon we will have powered individuals running through the streets in open warfare against an unjust and oppressive regime… Look at what is taking place at your feet!
This is what it means to be labeled a mutant!” Mike had to catch his breath and steady himself before he could continue. “Today we have a chance, a chance to do what is right, and good - and fair. Tomorrow that chance isn’t going to be available for us!”

Cameron groaned while bringing his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms under his legs as he lay motionless; waiting for his heart rate to drop from its panic driven frenzy. His thoughts were a jumble after the nightmarish dream. “This was a bad one,” he spoke, as if saying it aloud would change what he dreamt into something less disturbing.

There would be no getting back to sleep tonight!

Cameron and Mike had only returned to the Bunker beneath Ottawa a few days ago in response to the call Mike received that the Supreme Court had scheduled a review of the MCO’s appeal. Mike wanted to get back to Ottawa to get preparations underway, regroup his team of lawyers, and try to anticipate any questions the judges might have.

Ray Martin; head of the RCMP’s Special Investigations division, had extended an open invitation for Cameron to return, so the Special Operations base was going to be ‘home’ for the foreseeable future.

Cameron was deeply perturbed over this negative turn, and was chasing ideas around in circles until he opened up his laptop and sent a message to Lynn, asking her thoughts about the possibility and consequences of trying to change the future?

To his great surprise, given the late hour, Lynn replied right away saying to give her a call. She picked up on the first ring.

“It doesn’t look very promising does it?” confessed Lynn.

“You know what I’m up against?” puzzled Cameron.

“Your day in court; the judges will demand you be tested … the MCO is applying pressure to have you exposed to get your case dismissed.”

“How?” wondered the surprised boy.

“You remember I’m a ‘PreCog’; right? Accept that it just is - your brain will melt if you try and figure it out,” admonished Lynn.

“But?”

“And it would be helpful if you managed to squeeze out more than single word sentences,” teased the girl.

“Fine,” tossed out a frustrated Cameron.

“That’s more like it!” encouraged Lynn.

“Is the future set? Unchangeable?”

“Mom explained it to me this way: since she sees the future like a crossroads, she looks at the possible outcomes to pick the best course to follow.”

“So what does your mom think?”

“I don’t know! She’s at Toronto with Alan in Arkham.”

“Oh!” realized Cameron, “so what did you see?”

“You’re not gonna be happy.”

“Tell me. I can take it.”

“No! You’re not gonna be happy! The MCO testing is going to result in plenty of nasty injuries. You’re gonna wind-up in hospital … and.”

“Come on,” urged Cameron, “it’s not like I haven’t been hurt before.”

“During the testing, the MCO is going to gouge out your eyes to discovery how you see,” revealed Lynn.

“Oh!” responded an aghast Cameron.

“Yeah! Oh!”

There was a minute where neither of them spoke, the silence over the phone hung heavy.

“How does it affect the trials outcome?” asked Cameron.

“Your not actually considering letting them blind you!” demanded Lynn.

“Certainly not my preference!” conceded Cameron. “But, what other choice do I have?Everything hinges on winning the trial! Changing society’s view of mutants! Opening the way to free Were’s!” he reasoned out. “I’m committed to this course. If you want something bad enough sacrifices have to be made.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lynn blurted out, “I put you in this situation!” she wailed, as she tried to hold back tears.

“It’s okay,” confessed Cameron. “I made the choice - of my own free will.”

“You don’t understand,” cried Lynn, “you aren’t supposed to be the Golden Eyed Man, you’re not the guy that would save the Were, or the person I’m supposed to marry.”

Cameron remained quiet as that information digested before admitting, “I know.”

“And you’re still going through with it? That’s crazy!”

“Any more crazy than marking the wrong guy? Pushing an entire race down an unknown path?”

“I saw an opportunity to save lives, a better path that doesn’t hurt so many people, one that will prevent a war. But; it still has a price.”

“Go on,” coaxed Cameron.

“You’re gonna bear the brunt of the burden,” Lynn admitted.

“Kinda what I figured,” revealed Cameron, but added, “It also meant that you would give up your own future, and any possible happiness for yourself.”

“The real Golden Eyed Man is a total jerk: he’s angry, abusive, full of hate. I’d have no happiness!” supplied Lynn. “He would relish leading the Were to war, which will result in nearly wiping them out of existence. The devastation wrought would make humans fearful and no good relationship possible, ever.”

“Hmm, sounds like you came to a crossroad?”

“I saw another possibility … I don’t blame you for hating me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But I would like to know why you chose the path you did?”

“On the train, when I slept on you - not once, but three times! You wouldn’t move a muscle so as not to disturb me. You care more about others than yourself, that’s what love means - and love is more powerful than hate.”

“So you took a chance … made a choice. Decided to try and change the future.”

“Yes.”

“So that brings us back to my question: the future is changeable! What we choose to do now can alter the outcome.”

“Mom always says, ”The trick to winning is betting on the right horse. You have something in mind?”

“What if we do an end-run on them? Have Arkham do the testing ahead of time; maybe it’ll change the court ordered outcome, hopefully it’ll swing the judges in our favour.”

“If you’re going to Arkham I’ll get in touch with Mom! She’ll want to know, and she might have some insights too,” suggested Lynn.

“How’s Alan?”

“Mom has been keeping a vigil over him. The goop is still hanging on and making him sick, he’s in a lot of pain. The doctors can’t even enter his room, so he’s made little improvement so far.”

“I’ll make certain to visit them. I’d better run my idea past Mike - talk to you soon.”

“I’d like that!”

Cameron put on a night coat and slippers for the cold walk down the corridor a couple doors to Mikes room. Cameron looked at Mike and saw that he was in bed, but not asleep; his heart rate was too high, Cameron realized he wasn’t the only one anxious tonight.

Cameron knocked gently, opening the door to Mike’s reply of ‘come in’. Entering the room, Cameron sat on the foot of Mike’s bed saying, “We need to talk.”

February 4, 2008
Arkham Research Centre, Toronto

Tanya Nelson got the ball rolling after Mike called to schedule an exam for Cameron, Tanya for her part had brought together all available records regarding Cameron, then assigned her most trustworthy staff to the client’s case. However, the entire facility caught wind that an anomaly was coming.

Tanya had to field many questions, but in keeping with Mike’s instructions how ‘loose lips sink ships’ deflected much of the curiosity so that only those who signed non disclosure agreements were in the know.

Arkham was a large complex consisting of multiple buildings on a vast rural property located a short distance outside Toronto. What was visible above ground was dwarfed by what went on underneath; a network of tunnels and vaults housed many chambers and storage areas built into the solid rock of the Niagara escarpment.

The Centre had an impressive entrance with high glass walls that let in natural light. But the directions Tanya gave had Leap bring Cameron and Mike to a little used side door away from curious eyes.

After a discreet knock, Dr. Carpenter and Tanya Nelson greeted them. Having these two present, people Cameron had a history with, made the anxiety Cameron was feeling a touch more bearable.

Dr. Carpenter was overjoyed with the prospect of conducting this exam. After shaking Cameron’s and Mike’s hands, he motioned for them to enter saying, “I hope you remember Starling and Wanderer, we needed to call in extra resources.”

“They work for Arkham?” puzzled Cameron.

“Their freelance contractors, you made such an impression on them, they jumped at the chance to do your testing,” assured Dr. Carpenter.

Tanya walked ahead to ensure the coast was clear, and led them down a twisting maze to avoid making contact with other people.

Arriving at an elevator, Tanya used a pass card and the group entered. After punching in a code the elevator took them down, and Cameron counted out a distance of 220 feet before the elevator stopped.

When the door opened Dr. Carpenter called over to a cluster of white-coated scientists and doctors, who then approached to make introductions. Each was excited at the prospect of discovery Cameron represented, each was highly skilled, handpicked, and completely trusted.

Cameron reached into his jacket and withdrew from ‘Cupboard’ a copy of Dr. Ophelia Tenant’s medical exam from his time at Whateley Academy, handing the thick folder to Tanya. After seeing the near magical appearance of the folder, the white-coats began a verbal dissection of that simple action - Cameron sighed; this was going to be tedious.

~o~O~o~

Prior to his latest arrival at Arkham, Cameron had never directly met Tanya Nelson, they’d only spoken on the phone and through a couple video conferences. In person - she turned out to be somewhat shy and reserved, still in her twenties, and certainly an attractive lady, but having more a librarian vibe than someone used to social interaction.

It was very comforting to have Tanya stay close. An anchor for the nervous youth, she had even remained in the room during the medical exam. The practitioner meticulously referenced all previous examinations, then updated all information gathered to reflect Cameron’s growth, and noted any health improvements.

Being brought to another section, the testings focus shifted to Cameron’s eyesight. An optometrist ran every conceivable examination to gauge the boys vision, highlighting the aspects that warranted further study. When Cameron was asked to read the bottom line on a eye chart, it was conducted in a long hallway with the doctor taking ten steps back after each successful read until there was no more hall left. Cameron was some 140 feet away, but still accurately reading the chart!

The results began coming in from the variety of tests performed, each new result sparking debate amongst the doctors and scientists, as they cross-checked hypotheses with the collected data.

After his fourth eye exam Cameron was returned to the medical area to resume the physical testing, the doctors and nurses checking his reflexes and other senses. When samples of his blood was withdrawn it had to be in triplicate. Cameron felt like a pin cushion after so many needles.

Cameron was exhausted after a busy day, he sat on the exam table with his head drooping and fighting to keep himself awake. Tanya sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his back and giving him a small squeeze she said, “Can we pick this up again tomorrow?”

“That would be great,” agreed Cameron. “I need to eat and get some sleep.”

“Deal,” commented Tanya. “Come on! Mike has been waiting, I can show you to your rooms.”

Mike Williamson had stayed as close to Cameron as possible. It turned out that he was more nervous than the boy himself. He alternated between pacing the floor in the hallway or sitting and watching the clock. Cameron was tickled by his presence and concern, and smiled warmly at his dear friend when they reunited.

Tanya showed the duo to a set of rooms which had been prepared as sleeping quarters. The accommodations shared a dining / living space to relax at. After looking at a menu, Tanya arranged for food to be sent down for them. Mike was still curious about the facility and asked about a tour. After weighing the options it was decided that tomorrow while Cameron was getting tested, Mike would be given the grand tour.

When the food arrived, it was piled high on the cart. It looked and smelled terrific, and there was certainly more than was needed for two.

Tanya asked, “I hope I’m not intruding, but I was hoping I could join you for dinner?” At which Mike pulled out one of the other chairs at the table for her to sit. “And I also arranged for a visitor to join us. She should be here shortly.”

Mike’s eyebrow raised in curiosity, expecting more details to be forthcoming, the knock on the doorframe proceeded Terry Franklin’s entrance.

Cameron dashed from his chair to be wrapped in an embrace as soon as he got within reach of the lady, Mike waited until Cameron was ready to break away before getting an introduction.

Holding Cameron at arms length Terry noted, “You’ve grown!”

“Almost six inches,” provided Tanya.

“Lynn will be pleased,” she said with a smirk. “How are you young man?”

“Much better, and I’m so glad to see you!” Grabbing her hand, Cameron brought her over to Mike. “Terry, I want to introduce you to my guardian and dear friend, Mike Williamson. Mike - Terry Franklin.”

“I am honoured Mr. Williamson,” gracefully intoned Terry, adding a slight curtsy.

“A pleasure Mrs. Franklin. What little Cameron has said about you; although good - didn’t do you justice.”

“Cameron told me you were honest, trustworthy and loyal. I find he left out unabashed flatterer.”

“There’s no point in starting a friendship on a sour note.”

“I have a feeling we shall be great friends indeed,” stated Terry.

Sitting down to dinner turned into an enjoyable time, the conversation started out slow - the usual stuff like weather and questions to build rapport until familiarity allowed more meaningful topics to be fielded.

As the evening progressed it was only Terry and Cameron talking, Tanya and Mike had pretty much been relegated to being spectators.

“So what have you done with your Oberon? I’d have thought they wouldn’t let you out of their sight.”

“We heard about a Were village that was just probed by the ‘Voodoo Wolves’; I asked Ella to go and help them.”

“You have a way to take the fight to them?”

“I do, I’m thinking it might help Alan.”

“You give me hope! He’s been sedated, so - if tomorrow - you could …” prompted the concerned mother.

“If I can be permitted - perhaps as a demonstration for Arkham’s investigation?” Cameron postulated to see if his testing schedule had some flexibility.

“I am certain we can make room for a ‘live’ demonstration,” countered Tanya.

“What exactly had you and Lynn been discussing?” asked Terry. “She was very upset when we spoke.”

“I wanted to know if it was possible to change the future,” informed Cameron.

“How big a change are you thinking of making?” questioned Terry.

“How do you mean?” wondered Cameron.

“Every choice you make is going to impact what happens next. We constantly change the future: up - down, left - right, chicken or fish … always go with fish, you can’t go wrong with fish,” confided Terry. “So you see; each decision we make alters our path.”

“Okay! How much impact can a single choice make?” asked Cameron, as he started to grasp a new concept.

“Life is a highway,” instructed Terry.

“I’ve heard the song,” confessed Cameron.

“No, ya goof!” admonished Terry. “Life IS a highway. You chose which lane to travel in, how fast or slow your going, even who to travel with. But you don’t get to pick where it starts or how far away it ends - that’s set and unchangeable.”

“Fate?” questioned Cameron.

“No, its just recognizing limitations. Do you eat to live or live to eat?” declared Terry.

“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?” puzzled Cameron.

“If you don’t eat you’ll die, so recognize the necessity of it and enjoy what you eat,” illuminated Terry.

“But what if the highway is heading towards a cliff?’ postulated Cameron. “Is it possible to detour traffic around the danger?”

“And that’s the worst thing about precognition: the helplessness that comes from knowing what’s going to happen,” revealed Terry.

A realization hit Tanya, she turned to Terry in shock as the pieces fell into place. “You’re a PreCog!”

“A minor one,” Terry admitted. “All I have really been able to do - all my life, is steer my family around some of the worst potholes.”

“I was told Precognition only had a single classification?” Mike inquired.

“You’re not wrong,” supported Tanya. “Measuring precognition is tricky. The most commonly used test is a deck of cards being turned while the person says what the next card is.”

“Can’t you take how many cards they got right and use that percentage of accuracy to get a classification?” fielded Mike.

“A true PreCog might not give a truthful answer, or you’ve got a Psychic who can read a persons mind to find out what card is next, even educated guesswork gives good odds. How do you distinguish them? It gets worse: if a PreCog is playing cards and see’s what’s next, are they playing cards or playing the people at the table. So testing Precognition is almost impossible to measure or even verify. Any testing that’s done is flawed - even so: what if card reading isn’t what the PreCog sees?” explained Tanya.

“My brain hurts,” Mike confessed.

“It sounds like: by exercising our free will, we can control our own personal futures - and maybe to some extent those we are directly in contact with. The question then becomes: what limits the amount of change we can make?” sought Cameron.

“I would hazard that it depends on how wide the highway is,” Terry put forth in an effort to fill-in the unknown.

“What about taking a short cut, to avoid a nasty piece of road?” wondered Cameron.

“Lynn told me about what will happen when the MCO get their hands on you,” comforted Terry, as she recalled why the topic was so important to the boy.

“I’d really - really like to avoid that; if possible,” confided Cameron.

“You seem pretty upset Cameron. Do you have precognition as well?” asked Tanya as the tone of the conversation lent to that conclusion.

“I have dreams - tiny slices of my life, they let me know I’m heading in the right direction,” revealed Cameron.

“It’s how you knew to stock up on food?” concluded Mike as he made a connection.

“Yes,” Cameron admitted.

“So what’s the problem? You’ve seen what’s coming - you plan accordingly.” questioned Terry, as if manipulating the future was second nature.

“My last dream … in Court - it’s the judges! They side with the MCO; It’s like they won’t even give consideration to our argument,” explained Cameron.

“Ever since Cameron told me about his dream I’ve been trying to figure out the reason why,” expressed a worried Mike.

The table sat in contemplation, occasional glances hopefully made towards the others to see if a solution had presented itself.

“Here’s what I want to build my case around,” detailed Mike. “Mutants and the empowered are human, only with abilities. Just like a person with a disability is granted status as a human - so should a person with abilities.”

“I can support that,” insisted Tanya. “New research shows mutation is happening due to genetic manipulation rather than evolution. I just read a paper issued from a scientist at Whateley Academy who's study has those very conclusions.”

“So mutants are both the victims of being tampered with - plus the victims of society’s hatred,” reasoned Terry at the new information.

“Exactly! The problem is people are so prejudiced by the MCO’s propaganda, that they believe all mutants must be dangerous. The MCO uses fear to forego reason,” sounded out Mike. “So how do we break that cycle?”

“By putting in front of them someone who is human, who has powers, and who isn’t dangerous,” surmised Terry.

“So far: nothing about Cameron points to him being a mutant, but it doesn’t explain how he has powers: we can try to measure those. But as to the question of being dangerous? There’s no testing for that!” surmised Tanya.

“Just by standing up to the MCO; Cameron has become a threat to them. No matter how many character witnesses I line up, there is no evidence I can enter which will diminish that perceived danger,” summed up Mike.

“I might have a way,” quietly chipped in a subdued Cameron.

~o~O~o~

The quartet talked for hours into the night, Terry was the first to excuse herself: she had been spending long days watching over her son. Cameron’s head began to bob so goodnights were given and it was lights out.

A hearty breakfast waited for Cameron after he finished his shower. Mike was already at the table reading a newspaper munching on toast, and Cameron hadn’t even put down his fork after finishing the meal when Dr. Carpenter knocked on the door.

“It’s a busy day my boy,” the man said in anticipation. “If you’ll follow me, we have our first experiment.”

Cameron was taken down a network of hallways to then be shown into a medical examination room, which held a cluster of white-coats. Aside from an occasional stethoscope or clipboard, it was tough to determine if they were doctors or scientists.

On the examination table rested a large man who had been stripped down and wore one of those awful hospital gowns which leaves everyone’s butt exposed. Cameron was introduced to the man; one of Arkham’s security guards. He’d broken his leg skiing and it was swollen and blackened from bruises.

The man was placed into a Magnetic Resonance Imaging scanner. Cameron commenced repairing the injury, allowing the healing process to be captured by the machine. Repairing the fractured bone was an easy enough task. Since this was a demonstration, Cameron went the extra step of repairing the arteries and removing the blood which discoloured the wound and attributed to the swelling.

The buzz of excitement from the white-coats became louder. As the security guard was shown out Dr. Carpenter approached sheepishly.

“Outlook, I have an old back injury which causes me grief, could you …?”

“Glad to doctor. Are we using the MRI again?”

“That would be marvellous. Let’s get it ready people!” said the man, as he began to disrobe.

One of Cameron’s fears over being examined was that he’d be getting injured to demonstrate how he healed, Arkham had found a way around that. In fact, a line had formed of different staff members waiting for some aliment or another to be fixed.

Cameron had lost track of time when Tanya Nelson entered the examination room. She approached Cameron who was just finishing healing a nurse who was a type two diabetic. Cameron had helped her Pancreas to produce more insulin, a doctor was preparing to give her an exam to check the results.

When Tanya announced to the room that Outlook was being taken away now for other testing, a moan could be heard from those still in line. As Tanya and Outlook exited, many of the white-coats followed along. At the elevator Tanya had to prevent them from stepping in saying, “This next testing is private, we will pick it up again in an hour.”

Tanya took the youth on a surreptitious route until reaching a restricted area with high security, this section of the Centre dealt with contagious agents, and where Alan Franklin was being confined. Tanya and Cameron both donned bio-suits before taking the elevator down.

The lower level that housed the containment rooms had little in the way of comforts, no extra touches to give it warmth - just drab tan coloured surfaces everywhere. The exposed stainless steel here and there added to the very institutional feel of the place.

Another of the bio-suits was perched on a stool positioned in front of a glass wall, Tanya motioned them in that direction, but stopped short of getting closer when she came to a yellow line painted on the floor that protected her from seeing the occupant.

Looking inside the completely sealed room, Cameron recognized the lights he’d helped make and leaning against the far wall was an emaciated body; it was a ghastly sight. Alan was gaunt, his eyes dark and without fire, he looked weak like he was being starved and he was covered in open sores and scabs.

Terry stood and came to stand beside Cameron; when she spoke - it carried through the suits radio communication. Even thou they were next to each other; it sounded like they were miles apart.

“He hasn’t improved. He’s fed well, and the doctors put medicines in his meals, but it looks like he’s just wasting away,” remarked Terry.

“And the black contaminate?” wondered Cameron as he began a scan of the room.

“If you look on his back, against the wall out of the light. It’s kept a hold on him,” directed Terry.

Cameron took Terry’s hand and gave it a squeeze, then began layering his sight to observe better the situation. He was startled by what he found: that slime was present inside Alan’s body, in his stomach and intestines, it had become parasitic. No wonder he looked starved, the black goop was diverting the food for itself.

“Can we get closer to him?” asked Cameron.

“Too dangerous! The goop lashes out at anything that moves - even in full light,” informed Tanya over the radio. She was still keeping a safe distance.

“How do you feed him?” wondered Cameron.

“There’s a little door on that wall, a tray gets pushed in,” supplied Terry.

“And I noticed that anything coming out of that room gets hit with lethal doses of disinfectant and light. That’s good, cause the contaminate is inside him now - it’s living off the food, not just Alan’s energy.”

“It isn’t possible to do a surgery, we couldn’t perform something like that from inside these suits, nor can a human look directly at that stuff,” calculated Tanya. “I don’t suppose there are Were surgeons?”

“I don’t think the goop would sit still for that either,” added Terry. “Cameron, what was it that you had in mind to help him?”

“Did you ever see one of my energy collectors? I came up with a variant on that idea, I make these little black balls which absorb energy like sponges. The Were use them as projectiles which, when in contact, drain off the contaminate’s energy.”

“Will Arkham be able to inspect some of these ‘collectors’?” asked Tanya.

“Of course, I had expected you would want to check them over, as part of my testing,” agreed Cameron. “I had thought to use them to help Alan … but I wonder,” paused Cameron as he contemplated a new idea. “If I make them really tiny - and they don’t adhere … maybe.”

“You have an idea to share with us?” requested Terry.

“Instead of using one large collector, how about lots of tiny ones - say the size of a grain of rice, or salt … something Alan could easily eat. With enough passing through him it could absorb the contaminate’s energy- get it out of him.”

“One of Alan’s favourite meals is a meat pie I make,” suggested Terry. “It has a lot of pepper in it so small black dots wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary.”

“Then if we are in agreement, I would say we need a kitchen,” commented Cameron.

“If we’re to keep a low profile - we’ll have to let Terry do the cooking. Can you provide her with the pellets?”

“Not a problem, I’ll get them to her once I’m out of this suit.”

When the three reached the clean room, and they removed the cumbersome protective suits, Cameron gave Terry a pouch containing the tiny black granular collectors. He also handed over a regular size black ball to Tanya, which she in turn handed over to a white-coat for analysis.

Cameron returned to being tested, he was shown to a very large space that had tables arranged along one wall with different objects and paraphernalia, while the floor was covered with chalk in rings edged with symbols and glyphs. Wanderer greeted him and introduced the team to examine Cameron’s affinity to magic.

Wanderer explained the gist of the testing, adding how he was both Psychic and a Wizard and would walk the boy through the various tests they had waiting for Cameron.

It was a rather brief session, shortened when Cameron accidentally negated several of the artifacts used to measure essence, draining any magical residue. The situation got the white-coats frantic and rushed Cameron over to another testing area, bringing the magic folks along to ensure they hadn’t been bamboozled.

Cameron was presented with different elements, as well as essentially every known blend of materials. The process of checking which elements he could work with began. The plan was to try every conceivable combination Arkham had available, as Cameron would adhere two pieces of material together the energy equivalency was calculated.

The white-coats also concocted a system of measuring the electrical energy Cameron needed to repair a carefully selected assortment of items, the white-coats had been analyzing Cameron’s black ball in the same area.

During Cameron’s testing they took to zapping the little ball with a ray gun which resulted in it turning white, Cameron demonstrated that he could drain it - which began a multitude of speculation regarding what sources of energy Cameron could draw from, the idea of having Cameron grab onto a high voltage power line was suggested - and rejected as inappropriate.

~o~O~o~

Cameron was shown to another testing room sporting a table and chairs, one wall was entirely made of glass, he was asked to take a seat facing the reflective wall - which honestly didn’t hide the people behind it from Cameron. After a few minutes Starling entered in a huff and she took the chair across the table from him, crossed her arms and gave the boy a stern look.

“Do you have any idea how impossible it is to test psychic abilities on someone without even a signature?” she bemoaned.

“Your not the first person to mention it,” confessed Cameron.

“Well! There are two very frustrated high level psychics on the other side of that mirror right now,” Starling announced. “I warned them about you, told them about my previous encounter with you. You’re impossible to get a read off now.”

“I’ve been practicing,” admitted Cameron. “Mr. Geintz gave me some pointers.”

“Mr. Geintz?” puzzled Starling.

“Fubar, he’s an instructor at Whateley.”

“I’ve met him,” admitted Starling. “We’ve attended some conferences together.”

“I wouldn’t imagine he get's out much,” confided Cameron.

“You don’t actually travel to a Psychic conference,” explained Starling. “But if Foob has been teaching you … ?”

“Mr. Gientz just described how others defend against a psychic attack, and he checked for any openings I might have,” supplied Cameron.

“Which could be construed to mean you have psychic abilities - by blocking others,” advised Starling. “I know that isn’t the case from my past experience in your mind, but we need to have more than just my word to settle the matter.”

“You want me to drop my shields,” surmised Cameron.

“Shields? You have more than just one?” questioned Starling.

“There’s the mental barrier you’ve already seen, I also discovered how to convert psychic waves into energy that I can absorb, then there’s and I’ve got a new wall that doesn’t allow energy to pass through,” described Cameron.

“You keep learning new hurdles,” sized up Starling. “I imagine you’ll want a pact saying no harm will come to you?”

“Please,” smiled Cameron. “I have trust issues.”

When the day finally ended and Cameron was allowed to return to the rooms Arkham had set aside for he and Mike, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Terry had made him extra meat pies - without the special seasoning. A home cooked meal was a treat, as was a quiet evening to allow Cameron to rest-up from a strenuous day.

~o~O~o~

Terry watched her son through the night for any signs of improvement. When the morning shift started work and entered the secure zone, gob-smacked amazement held them fast when they saw Terry sitting on her chair talking to Alan still on the other side of the barrier. No indications of the black goop were on him. From his demeanour and cheer he was better than he had been at anytime since his arrival.

Cameron was still in bed sound asleep when a doctor knocked on the door, Mike answered and spoke with the rather excited lady. Mike asked for ten minutes - and then broached the matter of waking Cameron.

Regardless of how sincerely Cameron asked for just five more minutes, Mike got the boy moving, and out the door holding a slice of toast with peanut butter and jam along with a banana in his hand. The trio dressed in the protective suits and rode the elevator down.

A tired Cameron moved up to the glass barrier, and took in the sight within.

“Hi Alan, how are you feeling?” Cameron spoke over the suit’s intercom.

“Cameron?!?” was heard in reply from inside the containment room.

“Oh good, I wasn’t certain how much you’d remember.”

“It’s fuzzy, and there are some holes … but I remember being trapped and talking to Mom.”

“So how do you feel?”

“If my stomach wasn’t so upset, I’d be sleeping for the next year.”

“I’m going to be looking inside you - do you know that the black goop had entered into your body?”

“When I had some alacrity, I could feel it moving and churning; turning my guts inside out. Is it gone?

“Nothing on the outside, and … hmmm, insides clear too. We used just enough absorbent to draw off all the bad energy … I’m afraid your poop is going to be a might strange for the next couple days.

“How about the room? Is any contaminate still present?” pleaded Terry.

“Nope! All gone! It’s safe,” assured Cameron.

The words had barely left Cameron’s mouth when Terry was at the sealed room’s door, peeling off the protective suit and begging for someone to open the door. The outer door moved to let her in, then it rotated to the inner compartment. Terry rushed in and embraced her son, crying after finally being reunited with family.

Cameron was returned to the upper levels for testing to resume. He was back in the optometrists office with more improvised examinations, since they had gone through all the standard ones long ago.

Dr. Carpenter had set-up a room with his lie-detector, Cameron was put into the room next door. They would each interview the same subjects, ask the same questions, and compare results.

Arkham had sought volunteers from a wide cross section of workers and guests in an attempt to give as large a spectrum of situations possible. The lie detector was good - Cameron was better, since the people couldn’t not speak the truth; which began another series of tests.

In the afternoon, Cameron was brought into a nice office, in one of the chairs sat Mike, Cameron was offered the other. Tanya was behind the desk typing away, looking at papers and giving Cameron a glance before returning to the keyboard.

After a few minutes of this, Tanya looked up, taking off her glasses and setting them on her desk, she addressed her audience:

“I was just finishing up our evaluation. It’s one of those: good news - bad news situations. How do you want it?”

“Give me the bad news first, then the good news doesn’t leave a sour taste afterwards,” expressed Cameron.

“That’s an interesting philosophy,” said Mike.

“Cameron, to start with I want to say you’re healthy, but you're on the lower end of that scale. You are physically weaker than most people, have less stamina, less strength. Not an unexpected result considering how long you where in a coma. But … you are rated as a below average baseline.”

“Did I make any improvement from past exam results?”

“Some improvement can be seen. It’s encouraging … but I wouldn’t get my hopes up for any big changes over the long term.”

“So getting at least as tall as my Dad?”

“What was his height?”

“Six foot.”

“Sorry to be blunt, but no.”

“Have you got any more bad news?”

“It depends on how you look at it,” confided Tanya. ”We took three sets of blood samples, sending two of those out to other labs, it may be useful later - one of the labs was the MCO. All results came back negative for the Meta-gene complex; you are not a mutant.”

“That will prove interesting,” added Mike.

“I thought you might like that tidbit,” humoured Tanya.

“So … the good news?”

“Right! Powers testing,” remembered Tanya. “If you’ll pardon the term; our team had to go down several blind alleys.
Psychic testing was fruitless. Cameron always knew what the next card was - he could see it. It wasn’t until the lab techs started sharing data before they figured it out. All the Psychics claimed Cameron was completely devoid of empathic of projective abilities. They even used the expression ‘Null’ since he gave off no presence.
As for Devisor and Gadgeteer, Cameron is of course insightful into the workings of mechanisms. Being able to see the inner workings right down to the molecular level means he can see weaknesses in anything. Plus he also is very inventive, along with being a creative thinker. But his talent is not outside of the realm of a baseline, so we have given him a Gadgeteer 1 rating.
His healing ability threw everybody for a loop. It wasn’t until playing back the MRI footage that our boys caught on; Cameron was using his sight and matter manipulation to fix bodies - just like he does with inorganic matter. While it appears miraculous, there is nothing magical about it! Getting that out of the way - Wizard testing had no positive results. In fact, he ruined many of the magical artifacts Wanderer brought him into contact with.
Now I need to explain about Manifestors; Cameron does, in a way, manifest matter, but it is already existing, he has - his store of material to draw upon. However, a true manifestor makes something from nothing and is typically limited to a single thing. Needless to say, the debate over this was intense and the results are not unanimously supported, but we do not feel Cameron fits the definition of being a Manifestor.
Cameron’s sight set the bar to new heights, nobody on record has vision nearly as accurate or as diverse. His vision ranges from microscopic to telescopic and can see in every wave length. There isn’t the means to fully test Cameron's vision … which is further compounded by the fact his eyes are blind. Our conclusion is his sight is a mental function based outside his eyes, not a physical process, so it is an Extra Sensory Perception. In most cases ESP is classed as a Psychic ability - but Cameron specifically has an enhanced physical sense, so he has been rated as an Exemplar 2.
Let me be honest. Yes; Cameron is below baseline on most physical aspects, but due to his sight he fits into the classification of an Exemplar by far exceeding that norm.
And a drum roll please!” asked Tanya, as she tapped out a beat on her desktop. “How does Cameron manipulate matter? He is an Energizer!” announced Tanya. “When Arkham hooked Cameron up to a power supply we were finally able to quantify his power to meld matter together; he expends energy to create molecular bonds. Now try to understand, an Energizer is normally measured by how much power they put out. Cameron pulls energy in and is limited by how much he can draw upon. We have two scientists on staff who are going to be writing a paper over what has been found … of course no names are mentioned as per the confidentiality agreement.
But we are confident that a rating of Energizer 3 is appropriate.”

Cameron had to agree with Tanya’s assessment since it was near to his own estimations. However, a quick check on his battery initiated a smirk on the boy, the gauge was only sitting at 43 percent.

February 19, 2008
Supreme Court Chambers

Mike Williamson and Karen Mitchell sat across the large table from the contingent of six lawyers representing the MCO. The panel of five justices had sought a preliminary meeting to sort out legal points before the public forum would commence.

The Chief Justice addressed the room, “I would like to thank the Crown’s efforts in providing a powers analysis and medical report, it was a bone of contention for this body in not having a concise description available to determine the risks presented.”

The lead lawyer representing the accused: Suzanne Roth stood, picking up her copy of the thick file and held it in front of herself. “This document is a piece of tripe! The information is misleading and fraught with inaccuracies. The bias of this assessment is clearly evident and should be dismissed!”

“Provide this court with a specific example supporting your complaint,” advised the sitting Justice.

“Page 67: and I paraphrase: ‘Laboratory results conclude that the subject has no Meta-gene complex tracers present in accordance with all commonly used identifiers in determination of a mutation’s occurrence: the results of testing performed indicate the subject has not undergone a mutation.’ Looking over the pages, Suzanne’s gaze fastened onto Mike and she blurted out, “An unsubstantiated fabrication, not worth the paper it’s printed on.”

Mike replied to the verbal assault, “If it pleases the Justices, I would like to draw their attention to the credentials of the authors found in the report’s appendix: Arkham Research Center is an internationally recognized authority on mutants and the effects of mutations. As can be seen, the majority of the scientists who conducted the tests are former MCO employees. Most of these individuals are even referenced in the MCO’s own manuals, which are used for mutation classifications. And some of these scientists developed the actual methods to achieve accurate and repeatable testing results.”

“The laboratories used aren’t credible,” refuted Suzanne.

“May I direct my learned colleagues to page 59, sample set 2 which was analyzed by the MCO’s very own Toronto laboratory. The returned results align precisely with those achieved by each of the other labs’ findings! Is the accused suggesting their own facilities are not reliable?” commented Mike doing his best to hide a measure of amusement.

The accused’s lead lawyer looked harshly at a team member who hurriedly read through the referenced information. He looked up and nodded his head that the rebuttal was correct.

“No explanation is given on why Mr. Burke has his powers!” complained the Suzanne.

“That is correct,” admitted Mike.

The Chief Justice interrupted saying, “A valid point Mr. Williamson, this panel wishes an answer.”

Reaching into a pocket Mike withdrew a coin and placed it onto the table, “I would like to enter this dollar coin as the answer.”

“If the Crown is attempting to bride the judiciary, our defence welcomes such evidence being admitted,” jested Suzanne Roth.

“I shall admonish the Crown’s attorney, the coin he presents is called a ‘Loonie’. We hope this is not a statement reflecting his assessment of this panel,” cautioned the Chief Justice.

“No sir, rather it is my intent to ask the Chief Justice to read the inscription surrounding the Queen’s effigy,” requested Mike Williamson.

“Elizabeth II D. G. Regina,” read the judge.

“D.G. being the abbreviated ‘Dei Gratia Regina’ latin for: ‘By the Grace of God Reigns Queen Elizabeth the second,” instructed Mike.

“Aside from a lesson in dead languages, your point?” chided the accused .

“The Canadian Government recognizes the presence of God. It has gone so far as to enshrine in the ‘Charter of Rights and Freedoms’ that religion must be unfettered by prejudice or exclusion. Mr. Burke is imbued; empowered by God. To demand an explanation is to infringe on his right to freedom of worship,” explained Mike.

“There are many God’s, who empowered him?” demanded Suzanne.

“That is a question the ‘Charter’ does not allow you to ask. The Canadian Government doesn’t specify by which God the Queen reigns,” sharply replied Mike Williamson.

“I object! The Crown would have us chase our tails over some artfully contrived rhetoric that has no substance!” scoffed the accused’s attorney as a defence.

“May I request the court to provide me with a Bible? One must be present since it is used to swear in witnesses.” A Bailiff handed the book to Mike. “I’m certain Moses is not entirely unfamiliar to all present, he brought down the ten commandments: rules such as you must not steal or commit murder. Laws nearly every legal system in the world recognizes and adheres to ,” detailed Mike.

“But, I ask you give attention to this verse: Exodus 34:30, which reads; ‘And when Aaron and all the children of Israel saw Moses, behold, the skin of his face shone; and they were afraid to come nigh him.’” Mike continued by addressing the room. “My learned friend asks for substance! If I’m not mistaken, I have not only supplied that, but also provided a precedence to explain Mr. Burke’s condition.”

A hushed exchange ensued between the parties which Mike interrupted, “If it is the accused’s desire to expand the scope of these proceedings to include debating which is the true religion and the best way to worship God … I don’t believe the Supreme Court is prepared to adjudicate that issue.”

“This is preposterous!” cried out Suzanne

“It does rather sound as if the accused doubts the presence of God, that he might have an interest in the affairs of men. Fortunately this case is only intended to discover the treatment received by Mr. Burke's at the Mutant Commission Office's hand. It must be terribly inconvenient for the MCO that he isn’t a mutant.”

“He presents a threat to society!” accused Suzanne

“Doesn’t everyone?” admitted Mike. “Let us not lose focus. The case that has been brought before the Supreme Court is to determine if the MCO killed Mr. Burke’s family, inflicting grievous harm to his person, and then on multiple accounts attempted to murder him. The Crown’s burden has been to show that these events took place. So far the facts brought forward have not been refuted and stand as factual, in response only weak excuses for the actions of the MCO have been presented. Therefore, what remains for us, is to determine if there has been an infringement of human rights, and by extrapolation - are such en-abled beings human? Since by all accounts Cameron Burke is not a mutant.

A recess was called so the justices might confer. When the investigation was recalled the Chief Justice gave the lawyers their decision over the trial’s commencement: “This court will not be drawn into a religious debate! We are satisfied with the proofs given that Mr. Burke is human. The merits of this case are sufficient to warrant proceeding into deliberations. I must caution the accused: If the source of Mr. Burke’s abilities is called into question, this judiciary has no choice but to immediately find in favour of the Crown.”

Mike was still a distance away from the exit when approached by Suzanne Roth. “Mr. Williamson, I have been authorized to enter into negotiations so we might avoid a public fiasco.”

“Ms. Roth, we’ve already tried that road, I’m surprised you aren’t acquainted with the outcome of that venture.”

“An unfortunate misunderstanding,” claimed Suzanne.

“There’s an understatement if I ever heard one! Tell me; which of the nine attempts on my client’s life do you suggest to be a misunderstanding?” rebuffed Mike.

“I take it you are not open to discussing a settlement?” positioned Suzanne.

“That ship sailed a long time ago. I look forward to seeing you in court. Good-day,” remarked Mike, as he stepped out of the building into the protection of an RCMP guard.

February 25, 2008.
Supreme Court of Canada

Cameron sat nervously at the table, he had to purposely hold his hands down on his lap least he start biting his fingernails. Had his efforts made an iota of difference … was the future he saw about to come true?

Court was called to order and all parties took their places, the stage was set. The Chief Justice began:

“The case of Burke vs MCO is now in session. The Mutant Commission Office requested an appeal of the Federal Courts findings. The Supreme Court has conducted a review of that body’s proceedings. We have four outstanding items identified as needing resolution that we shall now concern ourselves with.

The first point of contention is the legal standing of Mr. Burke: The MCO has contested that Mr. Burke has no status in Canada from being a mutant.

The Crown’s attorney has provided a detailed examination conducted upon Mr. Burke, which after submission to us has undergone thorough investigation, this panel would like to thank the Crown’s client for their co-operation. The examination provides compelling evidence that Mr. Burke is not a mutant. This conclusion removes the question from deliberation. Mr. Burke is a citizen of Canada with all the inherent rights and privileges.

The second point we must investigate is the charge by the accused that the previous hearing was tampered with by paranormal interference.

This court was provided a detailed report completed by the lower court. In part, we received an event by event account from a freelance agent hires to provide monitoring of psychic activities during court sessions. The agent is known to this panel since it is someone we ourselves have employed to monitor possible interference.

The report just mentioned highlighted some disturbing information; the claim fielded by the MCO was put forth because their own efforts at manipulation had been thwarted. It must be stated that the Crown had no involvement in monitoring any psychic activities, it was a matter handled by the afore mentioned agent acting on behalf of the Federal Court.

For reference; these sessions are monitored, any attempts at interference or to sway the outcome through psychic means will not be tolerated, the perpetrators of such actions shall be exposed and prosecuted.

It is this panels judgement that the MCO is guilty of obstruction of justice. This issue will be held until the conclusion of our review for judgement.

The third point under consideration is one of contempt of court. Certain witnesses refused to fully participate in the previous proceeding which undoubtedly influenced the lower courts decision. We are prepared to give the accused opportunity to recall the witnesses in question to clear up any misunderstandings.

“Is the accused prepared to proceed at this time?”

“Yes your Justice. If it pleases this court, I call MCO Chief Executive Officer Mr. Dale Philips to the stand.”

The man had been seated in the courtroom, he wore oversized dark glasses with the edges of bandages visible beneath them, when he rose he grasped a cane and was provided assistance over to the witness booth. He was entered as a witness and swore to speak the truth.

“Mr. Philips,” commenced Suzanne.

“Please! Call me Dale,” smiled the man.

“Do you recall your encounter with one Cameron Burke?”

“Absolutely! It was the first of May last year. I was in Prince George partaking in negotiations to smooth out a misunderstanding that had occurred between the MCO and Mr. Burke.”

“I take it things didn’t go as anticipated?”

“Certainly not! He and I had just been introduced when he uncovered his eyes and implanted untruths into my mind. Lies which have been taken as an admission of guilt. This compulsion resulted in my arrest for an attempt on his life. It is also the exposure to Mr. Burke’s ‘light-beams’ that caused my blindness.”

“Was your blindness a quick onset?”

“No, it has progressed over the last couple months, worsening until my current condition of permanent incurable blindness.”

“And the confession you gave at the time?”

“A complete fabrication - I was coerced to speak it. Furthermore; I never met the sniper who shot at Mr. Burke.”

“Is it not true that Mr. Cousins; aka Beady, was a contract worker for the MCO?”

“I have been informed after the fact that he did provide his services to the MCO when dangerous situations required his skills to prevent endangerment to civilians. I was not responsible for his actions - he went rogue.”

“Thank you, Mr. Phil - Dale,” said Suzanne. “I have nothing further for my witness, I leave him for cross examination.”

Cameron leaned over and whispered to Mike, “He’s been given a chemical inhibiter to block his sight, I’ve cleaned it out of his system.”

Mike smiled at that information, then stood saying, “Hello Mr. Philips, It’s Mr. Williamson; we met in Prince George.”

“I remember you,” intoned the witness with a hint of disgust.

“I am so sorry to find out about your condition Mr Philips, It is sad to consider - given the potential outcome of these proceeding, that you might no longer be a member of the human race.”

“I don’t follow you?”

“In part this hearing is to establish what it means to be human. Those with abilities and the poor unfortunates like yourself with disabilities, may not meet the criteria being purported of what being human means. Simply put, you are now likely a mutant.”

“It’s Outlook’s fault!”

“I find your aliment curious. You shared a room with Mr. Burke for what - five minutes? I and many others present today have been in Mr. Burke’s company for nearly a year and have suffered no ill effects.”

“I’m the one that was blinded; maybe he just didn’t blast you like he did me!”

“My apologies, I did not mean to add insult to your injury. But I must ask if you wouldn’t mind uncovering your eyes?”

“I object Chief Justice! What does the Crown hope to achieve?” shouted the lead lawyer for the MCO.

“I’ll allow it. Mr. Philips, please remove your bandages,” directed the judge.

Mr. Philips reached up and removed the dark glasses, then pulled off the bandages taped over each eye, after which he blinked repeatedly while he held a shocked expression on his face. Mike moved quickly towards him - seeing the movement Mr. Philips recoiled from the advance.

“Oh happy day! A miracle happened!” called out Mike raising his hands in the air and shaking them as he stepped away. Turning on the witness he said: “Do you wish to recant your testimony, or is it that the permanent and incurable condition you’re suffering from is being a pathological liar?”

“I … I,” stuttered the disgraced man.

“Mr. Philips this panel has serious doubts about your credibility, do you wish your sworn statement to remain as given?” queried the Chief Justice.

“No. I withdraw my comments,” admitted Mr. Philips.

Directing his attention to the accused’s table of attorneys the Justice asked, “Do you contest the dismissal of your witness?”

“No your justice,” Suzanne muttered slowly.

“Mr. Philips please keep yourself available for further questioning. Your next witness please,” indicated the Justice.

“I call Bartholomew Sigel,” informed the accused’s lead lawyer.

From the audience rose a suited man with slicked back hair. He stepped up to the stand and was entered into the proceedings.

“Mr. Sigel, in your own words, describe for us your encounter with Cameron Burke.”

“I was an attorney working for the law firm of McAvoy, Arnold, and Strong; retained by the MCO concerning the alleged wrongful deaths of the Burke family. Cameron survived the accident between the family’s car and the MCO’s vehicle. When she recovered from a coma, I was present to obtain an unadulterated recounting of the particulars.”

“The results of which?”

“I was present to observe the manifestation of her mutation.”

“That must have been a shock?”

“I was completely unprepared for the experience.”

“I imagine, what happened?”

“The predetermined questions were asked. It became evident that she was not a reliable source of information, she had been asleep in the vehicle’s rear passenger compartment.”

“I see. What did you do next?”

“When I left the medical facility, I couldn’t forget the incident and the potential danger an unregistered mutant represents, so I contacted the Mutant Commission Office to alert them of a new mutant and provided it’s location.”

“Thank you for you concern, not everyone is so community minded. What happened next?” said Suzanne.

“I was later arrested under suspicion of arranging a failed murder attempt.”

“Were you culpable?”

“Heavens no! The police were just looking for a scapegoat, and I fit the bill.”

“There was no collusion between yourself and the man arrested for attempted murder.”

“As mentioned, I’m simply a lawyer - I have no reason to want someone dead … its ludicrous!”

“I rest, the Crown’s witness,” informed Suzanne.

Cameron passed a small note to Mike and after reading it he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Mr Sigel, I would just like to confirm a few items first. A couple times now you’ve mentioned that Cameron Burke had been female. For this Court’s reference: the bullets Cameron was shot with contained toxins which caused irreversible damage - necessitating a sex reassignment surgery. Please accord Cameron the gender specific ‘male’ henceforth.

“I wasn’t aware,” noted a smirking Mr. Sigel.

“Now, I will turn the questioning over to Mr. Burke, he has expressed a desire to face this witness personally to obtain a sense of closure.”

“I object!” shouted Suzanne as she forcefully stood to magnify her resolve.

“It is not without precedence, but highly unusual. You may proceed,” instructed the Justice.

Cameron assumed the place reserved for the questioning attorney, removed his visor and faced the witness, staring at the man, “Mr Sigel, Please detail your relationship with Mr. Ryan Codett, otherwise known as ‘Codfish’.”

“I … he” stammered the trained orator, finally unable to resist the effect, he began: “Codfish had been assigned to tail my actions in the event I needed more nefarious activities to secure the desired results in the case.”

“Please elaborate.”

“When you awoke, the potential for the lawsuit to take a turn against my clients was deemed an increased risk. I had also ascertained an unacceptable outcome for another interest, so I requested Mr. Codett’s services.”

“What is this ‘other interest’ of yours?”

“My involvement in your situation gave me access to review your family’s assets, upon which I became aware of an inheritance. It included a sizeable parcel of land that I and a group of realtors have been attempting to secure.”

“You put me through hell because of your greed?” boggled Cameron.

“Yes,” curtly answered the former lawyer.

“I have my answers, do what you will with him Mike,” said Cameron, as he dismissed the man.

Suzanne jumped at the opportunity. “This travesty cannot be permitted! This man was just forcefully interrogated, without regard for his person or rights. It was an attack right before your very eyes!”

The lead judge replied,“I think we can all admit to a measure of astonishment, but at no time did I see any harm inflicted upon the witness, and it’s been established that no injury results from exposure. The documentation we have been provided described the effect of Mr. Burkes eyes, but I’m amazed by its efficiency. I would also be remiss if I failed to mention that the witness was under oath to speak the truth. Your objection is overturned. The Crown may continue.”

Mike commenced his summation, “A rather interesting turn of events Mr. Sigel! Your admission to ordering Cameron’s death - not for being a mutant, but because of your shady business practices which set into motion a long chain of misdeeds.
You bear responsibility most assuredly, but the MCO picked up the torch you lit and ran with-it, despite everything in their charter saying they should have acted with restraint. I see no further need of this witness.”

“Does the accused desire more from their witness?” sought the Justice.

“No, he may step down” informed Suzanne disgustedly.

“The bench would like to recall Mr. Philips at this time,” instructed the Chief Justice.

It took a few minutes for the disgraced man to return to the witness chair.

The Chief Justice addressed the witness stand: “Mr. Philips, I remind you that you are still under oath.” Turning his attention he asked, “Does the accused have any questions?”

Suzanne Roth relied with a no.

“I direct the Crown to field some questions on the bench’s behalf, after they have asked any outstanding questions of their own. Mr. Burke if you would oblige?” inquired the Chief Justice.

After a quick curious look at Mike, Cameron rose and approached Mr. Philips ensuring he met the man’s eyes.

“Mr. Philips, how many of the assassination attempts on my life did the MCO facilitate?”

“I was only present for the first three. Once incarcerated I was no longer privy to the MCO’s actions. Prior to my arrest however, I had given direction to the man known as ‘Bigfoot’ to hunt you down; I understand you met him in Jasper. So four that I know of.”

“Back in Prince George you said, ‘We decided it was the best solution,’ having me killed. Who made that decision?”

The man squirmed uncomfortably before he spoke. “It was the MCO’s board of directors, it is comprised of four men each representing a region of Canada, plus an additional member who advises the group.”

“So this board is made up of five?” sounded out Cameron.

“No: just four. One of the directors is bound to a spirit,” revealed the witness.

A rush of muted talking was heard in the courtroom, only tempered by the bang of a gavel. “This room will be quiet!” demanded the Judge.

“Has it been under this board’s administration that the MCO began its reign of terror?” asked Cameron.

“My counterparts and I have lead the MCO to new heights. I would not call it a reign of terror,” touted Mr. Philips.

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” surmised Cameron. “But to what end? Why does the MCO hunt down the unfortunates that manifest?”

“The Meta-gene was introduced into the general population to make more vassals. The weak would be disposed off, the more powerful sorted for suitable use. Those who can host a spirit are the desired product,” detailed Mr. Philips.

“What is a suitable use for mutants?” queried Cameron.

“Soldiers of course, wars can’t be fought without them,” scoffed Mr, Philips.

“Mr. Burke can you ask the witness who released the Meta-gene?" requested the Chief Justice.

“Mr. Philips, who created and released the Meta-gene?”

“The spirits,” he replied.

“Chief Justice, we request an adjournment, the information before us is … is beyond the scope any of us was prepared for,” admitted a shaken Suzanne.

“This panel is in agreement, we shall reconvene tomorrow at 9:00 am,” instructed the Justice, and gave finality by banging his gavel.

February 26, 2008
Supreme Court of Canada

“Review of Burke vs the MCO is now in session,” was announced by the Bailiff.

“This panel would like to continue questioning the witness Mr. Philips,” directed the Chief Justice.

Suzanne stood before the judge saying: “Mr. Philips committed suicide last night in his holding cell.”

After a moment of discussion between the panel the Justice asked, “Does the accused have more witnesses it wishes to call?”

“No your Justice, we do not.”

“Do you rest your case?”

“No your honour. At this time the MCO wishes to throw itself to the mercy of this Court.”

“I’m afraid I must table your request. There is one more item for review before us; the question of whether those who have manifested abilities, such as from a mutation remain human.

“We would like to ask Dr. Tanya Nelson from the Arkham Research Centre to join us.”

Tanya entered the witness stand.

“Miss Nelson, your doctorate is on the classification of mutants?”

“That is correct your honour.”

“You have provided us a paper written by a scientist in the United States; to be honest the subject matter is difficult to comprehend, can you paraphrase for us the findings within?”

“Dr. Quintain has been working at a specialized institution dealing with the medical and physical realities of mutation. His study is pointing to the likelihood a mutation is an introduced phenomena rather than an evolutionary event.”

“Dumb that down a touch please.”

“Research is indicating that mutations are the result of stimuli being introduced into the human population.”

“Is it correct to say that humans are being experimented upon?”

“In light of what was discovered yesterday, the evidence certainly concurs with that conclusion.”

“Does the accused have questions for Mr. Nelson.”

“No your Justice, but we would like to express gratitude for her attendance.”

“Would the Crown like to add anything?”

“We have nothing to provide beyond what has already been entered, your Justice.”

“Then it appears the answer to our fourth point has been established. At this time the panel will take a recess and return with a verdict.”

A two o’clock that afternoon the session was recalled

The Chief Justice stood and called the room to order.
“In the case of Burke vs the MCO the Supreme Court has reached a decision. It upholds the verdict originally reached by the lower court, but we find it necessary to add a few clarifications:

1) This court finds that the MCO did conduct malfeasance in the performance of its duly enacted duties on the Government’s behalf. This situation must be rectified with all haste; this court charges the Government of Canada to bring the operations of the MCO to within its mandate.
2) It is this court’s opinion that those citizens who become en-abled or manifest as a mutant retain the qualities which define an individual as human. It rests upon the Government of Canada to ensure all its citizens are inclusive within the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

This court hereby awards the victims of the Mutant Commission’s Office crimes the amount of 1 billion dollars; 10 percent of this amount to go to Mr. Burke in restitution for damages suffered. The remainder to be held in trust for the families of those killed or injured by the MCO.

This courts is adjourned!” and the gavel’s bang was heard across the Country.

There was a mob on the courthouse steps. Reporters and cameramen had swarmed to get a sound bite after the shocking recent court verdict. Mike Williamson, who was only a step ahead of Cameron, was now fully engulfed by a horde of news hounds asking rapid fire questions at him.

Ray quickly diverted Cameron over to large podium at which stood a waiting man. The podium held a large array of microphones and Cameron was positioned beside the man. Ray stood to the side of Cameron.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am RCMP Chief Commissioner Hudson. In light of the recent Supreme Court decision: the Government of Canada will institute immediate oversight of the Mutant Commission Office to ensure no further malfeasance. I was directed by the Prime Minister’s Office to prepare the RCMP to take on this role in the event such an outcome from Cameron Burke’s trial should happen.

It is my pleasure to introduce to you Captain Ray Martin. Captain Martin heads up the RCMP’s Special Investigations division, and this group of dedicated officers has been tasked with taking on the Government of Canada’s duty to bring the Mutant Commission Office into harmony with its chartered mandate. Special investigations is ideally suited for this task since their prior focus was working with mutants and paranormal activities.”

Having finished his prepared statement Commissioner Hudson motioned for Ray to finish-up the announcement.

“I want to provide assurance to every Canadian about the travesty that has taken place, that every child - every person that went missing under the MCO’s hands, will be thoroughly investigated, so every family will have closure for long open wounds. And I promise: the RCMP will stop at nothing to prevent another child from being victimized at the hands of the MCO!”

Ray looked over at Commissioner Hudson who nodded his head in agreement. When Ray turned back to the waiting crowd interspersed with reporters he was peppered with questions. Ray choose carefully which questions to respond to. When asked what were the RCMP plans, Ray replied:

“Our first order of business is to enforce the rule of law. Each agent of the MCO will receive direction on how they will conduct themselves moving forward. More information will be provided in the coming days.”

Within the throng some began to shout out questions on how Cameron felt about winning his verdict, Ray turned and smiled down at the youth and nodded his head, then stepping aside to let the boy speak for himself.

“How do I feel? Happy I suppose, this has been such a terribly long road. I … I honestly don’t know what to think just now, or how I should be feeling. But, I can say a huge weight has been lifted off me - I can breath again.”

A shout asked, “What are you going to do now?”

Smiling Cameron retorted: “I’m going to Disneyland!” met with a roar of laughter, “Isn’t that what everyone’s supposed to say? Truthfully, I haven’t had time to digest what’s just happened. I hope you understand if I don’t have a good answer for you.”

After expressing his gratitude Cameron was escorted to a waiting police cruiser and whisked away. The bunkers cafeteria kicked it up a few notches for a celebration that night.

February 27,2008
Unspecified location beneath Ottawa

Cameron was woken-up early, Smith knocked gently on his rooms door - a much nicer wake-up call than being blasted by the bunkers PA system. After a rushed breakfast of oatmeal and some fruit, Cameron entered Special Investigations meeting room to be greeted by Ken Tallman and John Bastain.

“Where’s Ray?” asked Cameron, looking around expectantly.

“He’s already left, getting everything ready,” provided Ken.

“Ready for what?”

“Bossman wants it to be a surprise, but told us to make you to wear this,” informed Ken, holding up an RCMP uniform on a hanger, identical to the ones the men wore but bore Camerons name and rank.

“So you’re saying this isn’t the surprise?” questioned Cameron as he changed clothes.

“What? Being issued a uniform? Every RCMP officer is expected to wear one while on duty!” explained Ken.

“Oh!” expressed Cameron in puzzlement.

“Come on! We need to get going,” suggested Leap, so the three prepared to jump.

St. John, Newfoundland

Cameron, Ken, and John ended the teleportation jump by taking a few steps to eat up the momentum, and took a few seconds to acclimated to their new surroundings: an MCO field office.

Ray stepped up and welcomed them.

“Good morning Sergeant Outlook. I already briefed Leap and GQ, but figured I would let this be a surprise. Today we turn the tables on the MCO!”

Cameron was taken aback, slack-jawed. Bossman gave him a moment before explaining.

“I hope you don’t mind my not asking you ahead of time, but I want you to interview each and every MCO agent. I have prepared some scripted questions for you, feel free to expand on them. Now if you don’t mind we’re on a tight timeline today. I have prepared an interrogation room for you.” Ray had a huge smile knowing his referencing Cameron’s experience in a MCO office would spur the boy into action.

As promised, Ray had commandeered one of the MCO’s own interrogation rooms, Ken and Cameron set up shop by sitting behind the table and called for the first agent to be shown in. The agent who entered was nervous as he assessed the two RCMP officers sitting at the table. He gave a slight huff of indignation at seeing a kid as he presented his identification and badge, setting them on the table. Ken picked them up and read them aloud,

“Agent Samual Ackerman, I am Officer Tallman of the RCMP. We are conducting a criminal investigation into the actions of the Mutant Commission Office. So you are aware, our conversation is being recorded, and you are required to answer truthfully. Please state your name for the record.”

“Samual George Ackerman, agent number 33147, assigned to the MCO Maritimes Region, posted at St. John’s for the last eight years.”

“I am now turning the questioning over to Staff Seargent Burke,” noted Ken.

“Wait! Burke! You’re that kid from the news … the one that… that,” he managed to say just above a whisper as the situation fully dawned on him. Had the man been nervous before - he now became terrified. “You can’t! You can’t make me testify against myself - I have rights!” he protested.

Ken spoke up, “Agent Ackerman, you are not under arrest, only taking part in an investigation. It was established by the Supreme Court that questions asked by a duly appointed authority should be answered truthfully, otherwise it is a subversion of justice.”

Cameron removed his visor and looked at the agent. The man quickly shut his eyes and turned his head to look away. Ken leaned forward and loudly said, “Boo!” The man was startled and opened his eyes.

Cameron asked the first of Ray’s questions. “Have you ever killed someone?”

“Yes,” was answered sourly.

“How many?”

“One.”

“What was their name?”

“Michelle French.”

“Have you used torture on people?”

“Yes.”

With those admissions a local RCMP officer entered the room and put the MCO agent under arrest. A second agent was shown into the room.

Once all the MCO employees at that office had been screened, Leap, GQ and Outlook prepared to jump, but not before Cameron spotted the gathered agents who had passed interrogation being lectured by the very imposing Roche, who was reading them the riot act on how they would conduct themselves henceforth.

Ray again greeted them, this time in Halifax, Nova Scotia, he had once more been a step ahead of them getting this group ready for Cameron’s arrival.

“Good timing! That took less time than I thought, how’d we do?”

“Four out of eight,” answered Ken.

“Better odds than I expected,” admitted Ray. “Ready for another round?” he asked of Cameron.

“How many interviews are we doing?” wondered Cameron.

“There are three hundred and fifteen MCO in Canada. My plan is to do this in one fell swoop,”
supplied Bossman.

“That’s expecting a lot out of Leap,” mentioned Cameron concerned about over extending his friend.

“Already thought of that, I hired two teleporters: one is assigned to Roche, I have the other. Leap is with you and Ken,” instructed Ray. “I wasn’t certain about you though, can you handle interviewing that many people in one day?”

“It’s no real effort on my part, I just look at them and ask a couple questions,” deflected Cameron.

“I’m more concerned about how you’re feeling,” admitted Ray.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” confessed Cameron.

“Then we better hop to it,” interjected John, eliciting a groan from his teammates.

As the day progressed, Ray had arranged that the interviews be conducted at the start of the workday for each of the MCO offices situated across the country, the schedule had Special Investigations’ arrival to match the time zones. Local RCMP detachments would have officers arrive and assemble the agents in preparation of the interrogations, in an effort to stop anyone from getting warned ahead of time and evading the RCMP coup.

Each MCO office across the county offered some resistance, and each presented problem cases, but the average remained close to fifty percent for those who lent credence to the MCO’s bad reputation. Alberta was the exception: both Calgary and Edmonton had more militant agents and the numbers of those who had committed crimes were higher. That was not entirely unexpected.

Cameron and Ken were just wrapping up the last interview in Victoria. The Regional Office in Vancouver had the largest MCO presence in Western Canada. Victoria BC was just a small outpost, and the next stop was Prince Rupert on BC’s northern coast with only a handful of agents posted there. Then as a finally, Ray arranged so the Prince George office would be the last stop: the location of Cameron’s first introduction to the MCO. The boy was anxious for that ‘visit’; the icing on the cake - the cherry on top of the sundae. Cameron’s plan was to meet up with Ella in PG, and from there he and his Oberon would head over to catch-up with Lynn and her family.

However, Cameron could tell that Leap was getting tired and told him to rest-up while he and Ken conducted the interviews. Of course John wanted to be part of the action, but eventually he did take the offered advice and would at least sit to recoup some strength before the next jump.

John, Ken, and Cameron prepared for the jump, the distance of travel would require five bounces in relation to the number being teleported. John called out, “Ready?” initiating the trio to move in unison and jump into the air after a short run.

John arrived at Prince Rupert’s tiny MCO office, Leap’s appearance startling all present as he slowed his momentum in the cleared area Ray Martin had prepared for them, everyones eyes turned to gauge the threat but upon seeing his RCMP uniform the tension waned … until John realized he had arrived alone.

End of part 3

Stay tuned for Part 4.

What's the Matter With You: Part 4

Author:

Camospam

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Superheroes

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Female to Male

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

What’s the Matter With You: Part 4

By Camospam, editing by Wendy K

The third story in the ‘It’s Matters’ series following the adventures of Outlook

A Non-Canon Whateley Universe Story.

The Void

It was eerily dark as Cameron began to assess his condition. He kept still hoping the pain would ebb quicker. “Owww! That hurt!” he said barely audibly, his contorted body unable to vocalize more than a whisper. Cameron blinked repeatedly as he tried to ascertain what had happened, only to see nothing but blackness. Panicked, Cameron rotated through his different layering of vision which escalated his desperation at still being unable to see.

“Fer crying out loud! Did anybody get the number of that bus?” Ken Tallman bitterly complained. He mostly lay sprawled on-top of Cameron with his face pushed into the ground right beside Cameron, near enough to have heard the boys complaint.

Cameron felt more pain as the crushing weight sitting on him shifted.

“Get off of me!” exclaimed a young sounding voice that then broke into a fit of deep coughing.

“Patty! - Troy! You guys alright?” asked another voice; a boy. He had an accent and sounded a little older than the first.

Grumbled a girl, “I will be once you get your knee outta my ribs.” This was followed by her giving a sigh of relief.

Cameron felt the heap on-top of him being lessened as more bodies extricated themselves and got untangled. Each of the voices moaned in conjunction to the movement Cameron felt. At last Cameron was no longer the low man on the totem pole and breathed easier, although each intake of air burned his throat and lungs making him cough.

Cameron heard Ken cough too, then felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him gently.

Ken asked, “Cameron! How’re you doing bud?”

Cameron was face down, his visor no longer covering his eyes, he turned towards the voice and groaned. He heard a slight gasp come from Ken.

“Your eyes ...!” Ken managed, appalled from seeing blank white eyes instead of the usual golden light being emitted.

“I can’t see,” revealed Cameron. “Where are we?”

“Oh my, it’s the Police!” observed the girl. “Frak!” the older boy commented.

Ken grunted as he stood, stretching to work out some kinks from his back. Once stabilized, he began to scan the surroundings and tried to determine their situation. After taking a deep breath he began a deep rumbling cough.

Cameron tasted the air, it was foul and smelled of old cheese.

“Stay close to the ground, it’s not as bad down low,” instructed the girl.

“Is the air poisonous?” Cameron asked, in as strong a voice he could muster - in the direction the girls voice came from.

“It burns your lungs and you’ll develop a nasty cough, but you’ll live,” replied the older boy. “But we need to keep quiet!” he said, with the accent that Cameron couldn’t place.

Ken finished checking his Special Investigations phone only to determine it was useless. That frustration carried over into his voice, “So we sit down and shut up."

“We don’t wanna attract attention...” hissed the youngest boy, his worry evident in his words and actions.

Cameron heard Ken sit beside him. “No phone coverage, and John isn’t with us,” whispered Ken in a somber voice.

Cameron advised, “Well Ken, Bossman keeps telling us; ‘first get the 5W’s, then make a plan.’ You better take the lead.”

“Alright, I suppose introductions are in order,” stated Ken to the small group that had huddled near. “I am Constable Tallman, this is Seargent Burke, we’re RCMP.”

“How come you’re older - but he has a higher rank?” asked the youngest boy.

Once Cameron stopped laughing he said, “Ken’s the real policeman, they just didn’t know what else to do with me. I’m Cameron, What’s your name?”

“Troy Smithers,” he replied.

The girl added, “ I’m Patrica Conners.”

“Oliver Jones,” chipped in the third youth.

“Do you know where we are?” Ken asked.

“Somebody called it the Inter-Dimensional Void, but I don’t know where that is,” Oliver answered.

Cameron questioned, “How did you get here?”

“My roommate is a Teleporter and he gave me a ride ... I was joking around and stupidly let go partway through,” admitted Oliver.

Troy blurted out, “I was swallowed by a demon and got spat out here!”

Incredibly, Ken took that answer in stride to then direct his question to Patrica, “What about you?”

“I ...” she timidly began.

“She stepped through a portal,” interrupted Troy.

“I manifested as a mutant,” Patrica disclosed. “I tried to use my power and made a portal; it brought me here.”

“You mentioned others; how many are there?” asked Cameron.

“Nine,” supplied Troy. “I’m the youngest.”

“What happened? How did we end up here?” wondered Ken.

Patrica spat, “Tell him!” her annoyance manifested towards Oliver.

“We saw a lot of teleport flashes, so I suggested we try and escape. We jumped in at a flash and when we tried to grab on ... you guys came out,” Oliver stammered out.

The two newest arrivals absorbed that info for a moment before Cameron then put forward, “Who are we hiding from?”

“The wraiths,” informed Troy shakily.

February 26, 2008
Franklins Ranch: ‘Passing Wind’, Southern Alberta.

Lynn let out a deep sigh, and rested her chin on her balled up fists, supported by her elbows sitting on the dinner table.

“Manners! Elbows off the table,” chided her mother Terry, as she set down a delicious smelling pot.

“Cameron’s in trouble!” informed Lynn. “He didn’t show up where he was supposed to.”

Her father Doug asked, “Do you know where he is?”

“No!” Lynn replied, crying dejectedly.

“He’ll show up,” Allan concluded as he leaned forward taking a prolonged sniff of the food, “Smells great Mom!” he complimented enthusiastically.

Terry smiled, then began scooping out the meal.

Talk at the table dealt with the day’s chores, but Lynn remained somber until she announced, “I’ve got to help him!” startling her family with the sudden outburst.

“Take it easy,” comforted Doug, “tell us what you’ve seen in your visions.”

Lynn explained, “Cameron’s friend Leap has been jumping back and forth from Victoria and Prince Rupert. The poor guy’s past exhaustion trying to find Cameron and Ken.”

“You don’t know where Cameron is, so you can’t help find him,” Terry reasoned.

Lynn continued, “That’s not all. There’s a narrow window of opportunity that could bring an end to the Were’s binding. If Cameron was around he could go - it’s now up to me!”

“What needs to happen?” sought Terry.

“I need to get to the Mediwihla,” Lynn pleaded.

Doug lamented regretfully, “I’m sorry Lynn, but I can’t leave right now; its calving season and your Mom isn’t exactly welcome there.”

“I could take her,” volunteered Alan.

“You’ve only been home for a few days!” complained Terry in exasperation.

Alan stated, “It’s okay Mom, I’ll be back - I promise. Besides, I owe it to Cameron,” giving Lynn a wink.

The Void

Cameron had brought from out of the Warehouse his tent, in the process he added a layer to make it airtight and then filled the room with clean air. He’d also provided everyone with fresh water to drink and set out what food he could find from Storage; it was only peanut butter, jam and bread, but his guests were ecstatic over it. Ken and Cameron sat on the bed while the others ate.

“So we were mid transition when we got knocked out of Leap’s teleportation jump,” confirmed Cameron. “What does this place look like?”

“There’s a thick grey fog, I can’t see more than twenty feet. It looks like the sun has set for how much light there is - but it’s not getting darker. The ground is a fine powder - same grey colour as the fog. I haven’t seen any plant life or rocks even.”

“What about our new friends?”

“Oliver looks to be the oldest; fifteen maybe sixteen, he’s wearing a school uniform.”

“Black jacket, crest on the left side that looks like a two headed bird?”

“Yes ... can you see it?”

“No. It’s a Whateley Academy uniform - he said his roommate’s a Teleporter, so he’ll be a mutant. The girl?"

“She’s wearing pink pyjama’s with these bizarre cats with ribbons.”

“Hello Kitty pyjamas!”

“Is that important?”

“Could be, It seems to be favoured by ‘troublemakers’.”

“She’s young, I’m guessing fourteen; brunette, brown eyes. Troy is around ten, he’s in a tee shirt with a transformer logo and blue jeans.”

“Autobot or Decepticon?”

“How can you tell?”

“Does the face have a smile or frown?”

“Smile.”

“Autobot. Good.”

“Do you hear a slurping sound?”

“Is it one of our guests?”

“No, Troy chews with his mouth open, but that’s not what I hear.”

Quietly moving closer to Oliver, Ken asked him, “What is that slurping sound?”

Shocked, Oliver quickly became agitated and started shaking his hands vigorously up and down getting the others attention, then uttered, “Ssshhh!”

Everyone in the tent sat as quiet as can be, amplifying the sucking sound coming from outside.

Silent as a mouse, Ken moved over to the tent flap and peered outside, then quickly withdrew his head back into the tent. He returned to sitting beside Cameron and whispered into his ear.

“There’s an intangible life-form out there, I could only see it because it displaced the grey fog. It was hunched over sucking on a small nub rising up from the ground.” Seeing the pure terror on the three new faces, Ken didn’t make any further sound or move - but kept a hand resting on Cameron’s leg, assuring him that someone was close.

After a long slice of forever the sucking sound stopped. Cameron could hear the three breath again, and in a hushed voice asked, “What was that all about?”

The question hung unanswered, until a silent debate between them was settled and Oliver answered, “A wraith, they feed on teats that stick out of the ground - when they aren’t sucking the life out of us.”

“Vampires?” Ken asked.

“They draw blood, but that only seems to let them pull the life out of you easier,” advised Oliver.

“It feels like you’re gonna die once they're finished,” added a shuttering Patrica.

February 28, 2008
Airport, Montreal Quebec

Ella Oberon looked out over the crowd, she had selected a railing on a platform that allowed her to see the passengers coming in from arrivals. The call she had taken from Mike Williamson, explaining in part what had happened to Cameron - had shaken her.

‘Why did I leave Cameron,’ she berated herself. ‘My father trained me my entire life to be a protector ... and then once I find him - I just let him go off alone.’ The burden of failure tore at the Were’s heart. Ella zoned out deep in recollection of their recent trip together, before she had left to help the Were:

Cameron, Ella and Ben traveled together to Ottawa, following a path that allowed for Ben and Ella to deliver flashlights and black energy balls to the Were villages enroute.

It was during the drive that Ben revealed he was an archivist - a type of librarian for the Weres. This was news which held Cameron’s fascination for many miles - which had Ben recounting stories that Ella grew up with, but Cameron knew nothing about.

It was at one of the Village stops that they had been informed about another small Were community in Arizona which had been probed - the precursor to being attacked. Cameron had formulated a strategy that had them fly-out immediately - in fact, as soon as they had arrived at Ottawa.

“How am I supposed to protect you if I’m not at your side?” countered Ella, as she parked her Jeep in the Ottawa Airport parkade.

“I was with Mike, it’s not like I need a bodyguard - at least not all the time,” Cameron complained.

“The Oberon has a valid concern,” huffed Ben as he picked up his gear. “The Mediwihla would be honoured by your return. You are one of our people, you should go and stay with us. Granny may be an old fuss-bucket but she took a liking to you.”

“What of you L, what do you think I should do?” wondered Cameron giving the option some thought.

Ella returned, “My voice carries no weight, I go where you go.”

“That’s just wrong in so many ways!” refuted Cameron. “What kind of freedom do I bring, if the Were closest to me act like servants?”

“It is the duty of a sword and shield!” countered Ella.

“You are so much more,” Cameron replied. “You know the strategy of fighting and can keep up with a running battle. It is you that must lead the Were,” persevered Cameron.

“But I...,” objected Ella.

Cameron instructed, “Ella, right now the war has two fronts, if we can put up a resistance to the dark - by reclaiming those Were taken in corruption ... that is the place the sword and shield needs to be. By denying the dark its army, we will change the tide to our favour.”

“The people will only follow the Golden Eyed Man.”

“The Were will follow an Oberon, I know I would,” said Ben, “especially if she had a way to defeat the dark ... gifted by the Golden Eyed Man.”

“You are not helping!” chided Ella. At which Ben slung his pack over his shoulder and chuckled. “But what of you?” she further sought.

“I will be drawing their attention. If we can distract the enemy they won’t suspect it’s a combined effort,” counselled Cameron.

Ben offered, “I will go with the Oberon, a bear is always a force to be reckoned with.”

“I welcome a friends support,” smiled Ella.

“Actually Ben, I was really hoping you could do something for me,” Cameron stated.

“Name it?” the curious were-bear responded.

Cameron explained, “I need to know what the Were’s vowed! We seek to break what I believe can be considered a legal contract - we’re going to need an understanding of what both parties said, plus the conditions and circumstances that surrounded the agreement.”

“It will be an honour,” accepted Ben.

Ella nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice behind her said, “Hello Ella.” She was surprised because no-one should be able to sneak up on a Were unawares!

Turning to face her would be assailant, she was met by the visage of an attractive young girl. She had long wavy black hair with vivid green eyes, her slightly upturned nose was wrinkled from the huge smile she wore. Ella was tense - ready to pounce, but wasn’t prepared for the hug that she found herself wrapped into.

“Ummm?” was the best Ella could muster as a response.

The mystery girl said, “Trust Cameron to never introduce us,” still holding Ella tightly.

A look of shock came over the warriors face draining her ferocity replacing it with awe. “The Pantheress!”

“Pul-ease!” came as an objection, and then offered, “Lynn,” along with another squeeze. “I’ve never met an Oberon before.”

Ella tried to make enough space between them so she could drop onto her knee to show due honour.

“Please don’t make a scene!” Lynn cautioned, as she stepped back slightly, then gave a high pitched growl announcing her position. “For my brother,” she provided as an explanation. “We separated to find you, he guessed you’d be outside.”

Ella was puzzled, “You knew I’d be here?”

“Yes, I know it’s hard to grasp - but I’m what our people call a seer - or farsighted,” supplied Lynn.

Ella stuttered, “But ...”

“It’s very cute,” admired Lynn, looking over the young fox. “Cameron said you were pretty. I do wish he ‘was more’ verbal.”

“I wonder at times if he’ll ‘ever stop’ speaking,” snarked Ella.

The two girls stared at each other briefly before breaking out in laughter! They were interrupted by an indignant, “Ahem!!”

Lynn reached over and grabbed her brothers arm, thus presenting his hand to Ella. “Alan Franklin, met Ella Oberon.”

The two Were shook each others hand for an extended period as they just stared admiringly at each other.

Alan was a fine looking young man, he didn’t have the black hair like his sister; rather the sandy coloured hair of his father as well as his father’s blue eyes, but he had strong cheekbones and a similar nose to his mother’s.

Ella had her copper / red hair tied in a stylish pony tail that curled down to her mid back, her face struck in a coquettish smile that only had one corner of her mouth raised up.

“Awkward...,” stated Lynn, which reanimated the two. “When is the flight from Prince George due to arrive?”

“Landed twenty minutes ago,” Alan replied, without taking his eyes off the vixen.

Blushing, Ella pointed to a set of doors, “They’ll come through that gate,” only to notice a group of four standing just outside the doorway attempting to get oriented.

The three Were walked the short distance from Ella’s vantage point over to welcome the newcomers.

Central among the group was a tall wiry man dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He stood head and shoulders above a group of three teens; a boy and two girls.

Lynn was the first to approach and began by hugging the tall stick of a man, who looked down at the head of black hair with his eyes doing a dance of confusion at the friendly assault from a complete stranger.

“Mr. Johnson, I’m Lynn Franklin,” provided Lynn while still hugging the beanpole.

“Lynn?” stumbled Marcus, “Mike said someone would met us at the Airport, but I thought you were in Alberta.”

“Marcus, I’m Lynn’s brother Alan,” inserted Alan. “And this is Ella Oberon,” he provided, after they’d shook hands.

“May I present: Timothy, Rachel and Charlotte.” Mike was then interrupted by a loud, “Hoy!”

Turning to face the outburst, a large barrel chested fellow with his arms wide open approached Marcus and embraced him.

“Roche!” exclaimed Marcus, and wholeheartedly returned the greeting.

Standing just a little behind Roche was a very tall girl, even taller than Marcus, who wore a hoodie that hid most of her face leaving just her mouth and chin visible. She also wore heavy duty gloves.

Roche reached over putting his arm around the girl’s waist and onto her back and drew her forward, “Please to make the acquaintance of R.E.D.”

The Void

The ear splitting screech was enough to make everyone cover their ears and wince in pain.

The tent walls and roof were indented by hands that pressed upon the fabric. The three youth curled into fetal positions and repeatedly wailed, “no,” and fear wracked their faces.

Ken and Cameron stood back to back, Ken had drawn his RCMP issue pistol as he faced the doorway. Cameron had layered his most powerful shields around the tent after the stories they’d been told of being fed upon, but they seemed to provide little protection against the wraiths.

The wispy outline of a wraith passed thru the tent and latched onto Ken’s shoulder. He cried in agony as he tried to hit it with the butt of his gun, to no avail. Ken dropped to his knees as he no longer had the strength to stand.

More of the wisps entered and each targeted one of the tent’s occupants. Over the wraith’s shrieks Cameron heard whimpers from all of his companions. Cameron felt the bite on his neck and then sensed the pull upon him.

~o~O~o~

Cameron panted heavily. He was down on one knee and only remained upright from the support provided by the staff he had manifested during the battle. Cameron’s tent was in tatters. He still was not able to see, so he could only lash out in hopes of making a chance connection upon the foe - and not strike friend.

When the entity began to siphon off Cameron’s life force, Cameron had been able to reverse the tide and drew energy in from the wraith. It was an energy source unlike anything he’d encountered before and left a nasty taste in his mouth. He badly wanted to see what level his battery was at now, since he’d never felt so empowered, but without sight he couldn’t know.

The wraith had dislodged itself and began wailing like nothing he had ever heard before. The other wraiths gave up their feast and began circling Cameron, attempting to punish him for ruining their dinner.

To defend himself Cameron had fashioned a quarter staff out of his energy absorbing material. It had started out dark black, but from the occasional contact it made on an attacking wisp - it now had whirls of milky white intermingled in the black.

Each strike that hit the wraiths resulted in a satisfying wail of anguish from the wisps as their energy was drawn into the staff. The shrieking abated and Cameron no longer felt the jabs and shoves he had been getting pummelled with.

Listening, Cameron could hear the pained breathing of his companions, each was moaning and coughing from the bad air around them since the tent no longer provided a pocket of clean air to breathe.

Digging deep into his memories, Cameron imagined a face mask with filters and brought it out from his Workshop. He put the mask on and breathed thru it, the seal wasn’t great so he adjusted the fitment. He made four more and distributed them, checking the fit for each.

The mask distorted a person’s speech, but he ascertained how everyone was feeling. None of them were much more than just alive, they shivered violently and were clammy to the touch. Cameron couldn’t locate his blankets in the Warehouse, but decided to make ponchos out of the black absorbent instead.

In Storage, Cameron knew there was some steamed white rice, he was able to recall its location and felt for it. He then made some small energy pellets like he had done for Alan at Arkham, but this time he filled them with energy so they were white, and mixed them into the rice.

Cameron apportioned out the food, telling them they would feel better after they ate. They all commented about the crunchy bits, but ate nonetheless. As they ate they heard voices coming from out of the grey gloom. The voices called out the three youth’s names - to which Patrica called back, “Over here!” between mouthfuls.

The five were joined by another six that Oliver, Patty and Troy knew. The grown-ups vigorously chided the three teens for having run-off. They had heard the commotion and came in search of what they had feared were three deaths.

Concord, New Hampshire.

Emit Paulson sat back in his chair watching the case unfold; he had volunteered to act as co- counsel for the state but that was declined. Instead, he sat in the gallery as a spectator watching this court’s proceedings, which had been an entertaining exchange.

New Hampshire Child Services had a good lawyer representing themselves, and Marissa Dawson: Whateley Academies lawyer, was competent at least. Emit was taking notes and sizing up what to expect when his own case came before a judge.

The defence being used was almost formulaic: The defendant: Mrs Carson, claimed that Cameron Burke had brought his woes upon himself; it was his own fault for not bringing his situation to the administration’s attention.

Meanwhile, Child Services had exposed some gapping holes in how Whateley conducted its business. The school’s independently managed and operated sections hadn’t communicated effectively with each other - and that situation allowed someone to drop through the cracks.

That someone was Cameron Burke, and now Mrs. Carson was facing charges of child abuse, in part because the school failed to account for him under her administrative blanket. At issue and under debate was that she herself was to blame for Cameron’s situation.

Mrs. Carson looked sufficiently contrite as the court peeled back layer after layer of mistakes. When damning evidence was revealed, she even wept on occasion. A good act conceded Emit.

Marissa Dawson was tireless in her efforts to construct a chain of evidence intending to build a defence that would exonerate the school and its top administrator. She kept returning to a simple conclusion: What’s wrong with that kid? All he had to do was come to the office. All this could have easily been handled.

Emit could see the strategy behind creating reasonable doubt. The best legal recourse was to turn the blame back onto Cameron Burke for not working along with the school. That basic premise would have prevented any of the issues that had culminated in a legal battle.

Mrs. Dawson was also working the angle that Cameron had problems with authority figures, implying he was a complete dunderhead. She even explored the possibility that he’d come to Whateley to forment discord, and wanted to create trouble for the school, for mutants.

When Marissa Dawson thought she had sown enough dissent she called Mrs. Carson onto the witness stand. It was a brave move, but calculated: presenting to the court a caring, motherly figurehead that all the students adored, a heroine that could do no wrong.

While Mrs. Dawson was finishing up her charade, Emit passed a few notes and a large bound volume up to the lawyers positioned at the table. The note was read with interest, and some furious activity ensued.

When Mrs. Dawson concluded with her witness, it was in haste that the lawyer stood to begin a cross examination. Addressing the witness she asked: “Mrs. Carson, is it correct to conclude that choosing a code name, the moniker used to obscure a true identity is typically done to reflect a persons extraordinary abilities and personality traits?”

Mrs. Carson: “Yes.”

Lawyer: “How about yourself, we understand that you have taken several of these aliases, Miss Champion, and Miss Miracle for instance?”

Mrs. Carson: “The first name I took originated from my association with Champion; we were partners since we shared many similar abilities. When I went solo I took on a name to distinguish myself from Champion.”

Lawyer: “This would have been around the time you found an affinity for the mystic arts, hence the new name Miss Miracle?”

Mrs Carson: “Yes. The changed name better reflected my abilities at the time.”

Lawyer: “Interesting! Now I take it at some point that you married. Was this the reason you decided another name change was required rather than just retaining the name Mrs. or Ms. Miracle?”

Mrs. Carson: “No. My abilities developed beyond what a simple miracle might imply.”

Lawyer: “I see. Your progression into wielding magic required you not ascribe the wonders you performed to mere fluke.”

Mrs. Carson: “Magic only comes about because of commitment to study and practise. It is not miraculous, rather it takes hard work to perform.”

Lawyer: “Thank you for clarifying that. So your current name then?”

Mrs. Carlson: “Lady Astarte.”

Lawyer: “So we are to understand that this is now a current reflection of your abilities and personality?”

Mrs. Carson: “Yes.”

Lawyer: “Mrs. Carson: are you a god?”

Mrs. Carson: “I do not make that claim.”

Lawyer: “But yet you have named yourself after a god.”

Mrs. Carson: “I chose that name because it best depicts my abilities and reflects a powerful figure.”

Lawyer: “Oh dear! I am certain this court would be interested in learning about who you have chosen to emulate.” Picking up and reading from a large encyclopedia she commenced: “Astarte was the goddess of fertility and married to Baal the god of harvests, her priestesses were temple prostitutes and her adherents held orgies in their honour. The images archeologists have found of Astarte rank as some of the most extreme and grotesque types of pornography. Unearthed from under her temples are the human remains from the sacrifices given to her: consisting of children - burned to death, then buried in urns.”

Closing the textbook, the lawyer looked suitably appalled when addressing Mrs. Carson: “Certainly an outstanding figurehead to provide for a school full of impressionable youth.”

End Part 4.

What's the Matter With You: Part 5

Author:

Camospam

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Superheroes

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Female to Male

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

What’s the Matter With You: Part 5

By Camospam, editing by Wendy K.

The third story in the ‘It Matters’ series following the adventures of Outlook.

A Non-Canon Whateley Universe Story.

February 28, 2008
Highway outside Montreal

The large passenger van that Roche and Marcus rented carried the newly acquainted group of nine away from the airport. It was being driven Northeastward away from Montreal towards Quebec City. Ella would have preferred to travel in her own Jeep, but it was left behind in Montreal.

The youths far outnumbered the adults in the vehicle and Ella was cautious around the newcomers … either it was her instinct kicking in, or possibly due to years of preparing for anything. As it was, some of the passengers were taking the opportunity of the lull caused by the journey, to have a nap. Conversation so far had been a little subdued because the unfamiliarity of the three groups made it tough to feel comfortable with each other right away.

The quiet surroundings gave Ella some time to think. Everything happened so fast - it was a blur, so she returned to her memories. Undoubtedly her role would become the storyteller of the Golden Eyed Man, and the battles with The Dark, so she had to get the story right.

The Were had a resounding victory at the village in Arizona. Her rallying call had brought a large force to help the beleaguered village, which honestly, was much to her surprise. Incredibly even to her, was how many of those who came in response had already heard stories about the battle at the Mediwihla Village, where the contaminated were defeated.

Ella successfully used a similar tactic that had been executed with the Mediwihla, by setting a snare. After this battle had been won fifteen had been reclaimed from The Dark. What was only to be a brief separation from Cameron changed once again when two more villages faced siege.

Ella and her band of warriors rushed to provide aid to the two beleaguered villages, and the resulting victories cemented that the Were could win. The news of the dispersing of the flashlights and dark energy adsorbing balls were now spreading like wildfire. As their reputation grew, and their value in defeating The Dark was established, Cameron’s weapons against the foe became sought after by Were across the nation.

The return of those lost to The Dark was the news that Were desperately needed. Hope flourished among the Were at last.

She absently rolled one of the black balls in her fingers; it was set into a necklace given to her by the grateful people at one of the villages she and her band had helped. The Were had started a whole new art incorporating Cameron’s solutions against The Dark. They had taken to weaving his protective and curative devices into clothing and making jewelry around them.

Cameron. The thought of him made her smile. As is often the case, the runt of the litter holds the most surprises. Ella had never been more surprised than by that scrawny human boy. She had always imagined herself as the ideal soldier; it was who she was trained to be, the existence she was born into.

Cameron didn’t hold to the traditional values. In fact, he broke down those walls which had been past down for ages … it was like he didn’t know - or didn’t care. Some of the Were tried to convince her that the boy couldn’t fulfill the legend of the Golden Eyed Man, yet others absolutely loved him and never doubted his role. Looking to her own heart, Ella didn’t truly know how she felt, or what she thought because Cameron was so different to her preconceptions.

Ella’s mind slowly drifted away in her thoughts to conversations of another long drive she had taken not so long ago:

Ella impatiently commented, “You went off unprotected again! Did the children need a hero?”

“They wanted to show me their home. You worry like a mother hen,” observed Cameron.

“As compared to you running-off like a chicken with its head cut off?”

“I keep my head firmly attached, Thank you! Making friends goes a long way to building trust.”

“I’m sorry to be sharp,” retracted Ella.

“Not a problem. But you must admit - each step you take is like you’re waiting for someone to come at you swinging.”

“I don’t want my next step to be my last … and now I must protect an undisciplined human who has no clue of the dangers present!”.

A surprised Cameron retorted, “You think I’m oblivious to what surrounds me?”

“Without a Were’s senses, I doubt you are cognizant of half the dangers around you - even here,”Ella referenced the border station they were queued up at.

Cameron performed a quick three hundred sixty degree scan, then began pointing. “Four MCO agents at eight thirty; each with low calibre sidearms, pepper spray and concussion grenades shaking down a family with a mutant son. Ten o’clock - a Federal Marshall is carrying an unloaded sidearm while transporting a prisoner. One thirty is a United States customs check point with a total of seven officers; all with sidearms and close to a concealed weapons cache with shotguns, rifles and tasers.”

Continuing his evaluation Cameron kept pointing, “Three o’clock, Canadian Customs office; three people currently posted with a fourth entering a bulletproof control area. The door’s touchpad code is: seven, seven, three, two, two, eight. On our six is an off-duty policeman who’s taking his family on a holiday, his firearms concealed in his luggage.”

Ella gave her charge a long look, a mix between shock and awe.

“Would you like a breakdown of who has knives and their lengths?”

“How do you see that?” She questioned, as she moved the Jeep forward.

“Me?! I’m blind … at least that’s the official verdict. I don’t see the normal way - I’ve failed every vision test given me. I’ll never get a drivers license because I can’t narrow my focus down that way.”

“I never considered that your eyes did more than shine.”

“Am I wrong in guessing that you’re wondering what useful role an Oberon can have if it is not to make up for my pitiful ‘human’ senses?”

“Yes, I’m struggling trying to figure out how I am best to be of help to you.”

“Ella, I need a sword and shield in ways you’ve probably never considered. In order to use my sight to the fullest, I become blind to all else happening around me … I’m at my most vulnerable when I’m at my strongest.”

“Then why complain that I keep wary of the dangers around us?”

“Did you ever see the movie Pinocchio, where Jiminy advises the puppet?”

“You imply I should be a noisy cricket and sing you songs?” jested Ella.

“Boy! That would be swell!” humoured Cameron.

Ben roared with laughter in the back seat.

“Ha!” she scoffed and gave Ben a dirty look, “Fat chance of that happening!”

“I was trying to say that I need someone to act as my guide to all things Were; your culture, your customs.”

“That is a reasonable suggestion.”

“And if you could put it to a nice Caribbean beat, toss in a couple maracas - Oh! oh! or maybe steel drums.”

“You’re testing my patience,” fumed Ella.

“Only seems fair, you’ve been testing me against some secret Oberon code of yours - so what’s the verdict; am I the guy?”

“I…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that. You have a job to do - I get it. Just don’t let work stop you from smiling a little. No matter what the test says, at the end of the day I’d like to be able to call you a friend.”

“That would be acceptable,” revealed the duty bound Oberon.

“Where are we heading?” Marcus’ question drew Ella’s attention back to the present.

“R.E.D.’s family has a place we can all stay,” answered Roche. “We’ll spend the night there before heading to the States.”

“Hate to impose,” worried Marcus, “there’s a lot of us.”

“Her family demanded we come … It would insult their hospitality if we refused,” countered Roche. “Besides; you haven’t eaten until you’ve had a French Canadian feast. Trust me! These folks are family you just haven’t met yet.”

“I’m more concerned with eating them out of house and home. Mutant teenagers are bottomless pits!”

“Fair point,” replied Roche, “but don’t worry, they’re prepared.” After checking the traffic he then asked, “You didn’t bring Polaris with you?”

“Grace wanted to come, but she’s at home taking care of Mark; the little guy’s too small for an adventure.”

Roche nodded in understanding, “How old is he?”

“Two months,” Marcus proudly added with a sigh, “I didn’t want to leave, The Trifecta of Trouble had to drag me away.”

Ella inquired, “Try who’sit?”

“He means us,” provided Rachel. “We got a message saying Cameron needed our help.” The head bobs to the affirmative indicated the same for everyone else.

“That would have been me,” chimed in Lynn. “I contacted all of you through Mike Williamson.”

“It seems you are the only person who knows what we are getting ourselves into,” the comment drawing attention as it came from the most quiet of the group; the tall hooded girl sitting in the back.

“Cameron has disappeared,” informed Lynn. “I don’t have all the details yet, really just the when and where. But I’m sure he’s going to need our help.”

“I assume collecting us together makes up the who, have we an inkling towards the what and why?” contributed Ella.

Tim piped in by saying, “Cameron saved our lives, so I’ll do whatever I can - but really, what sort of help we can be?”

Ella voiced her worry, “My concern also.”

“I wish I had more details,” confessed a remorseful Lynn. “But best as I can tell - it looks like Cameron needs our help.”

The van’s occupants returned to being quiet as they pondered what Lynn meant. It was only a short pause before:

“I was just tested so I could go on the airplane: I’m rated as an Exemplar four and Energizer three, and can fly - on my own - the plane was neat too. I wanted to use the code name Princess,” explained Charlotte, “but they said it was a title not a name; the poopie-heads! So I picked Excelle,” sulked Charlotte. Her expression quickly turned to a grin as she turned and poked Ella who sat beside her, “You’re it!” teased the young girl.

“What is ‘It’?” asked Ella, confused by the expression.

“‘It’ is your turn,” instructed Rachel. Seeing the answer didn’t register she continued, “To tell us what you can do.”

Lynn jumped in to rescue the uncertain Were regarding how much should be revealed. “Ella, Alan and I are shape-shifters with enhanced healing abilities and above usual strength, I’m also a Pre-Cog. But we don’t have code names.”

Rachel piped in next, “I’m a level three Psychic, and an Exemplar one. I haven’t chosen an alternate name yet.”

“I’m a level four speedster, call me ‘Swift’,” announced Tim.

All heads turned to the last person, seated in the van’s back. R.E.D. removed her sunglasses and pulled down the hoodie revealing the sparkling ruby red eyes and hair that looked like it was on fire - it pulsated, the effect working down the length of her hair. “I am Energizer six, and Exemplar three. Please to call me Flambé.”

The Void

Cameron outfitted everyone with a breathing apparatus and poncho; he also handed out staffs to those who asked for one.

Those that had undergone the recent attack had started to feel better. Cameron’s energy infused rice had imparted a replacement for that which had been stolen. Ken described to Cameron how it felt like his life was being pulled through a straw, and was grateful for Cameron interceding when he did.

In the distance could be heard a roar like crashing waves. It was coming closer until the individual shrieks could be distinguished. The wraiths had called up reinforcements who now came at them as an angry horde.

Oliver asked for a staff and joined the ranks that formed a circle around those like Troy and Patrica, who curled up under the ponchos.

Cameron stepped a few feet away from the circle so he looked like an easy target, as the remaining defenders all held the staffs out to get a feel for the weapon.

The first attackers arrived and beset upon Cameron. Although the wraiths had no solid form, contact with them was painful, feeling like a heavy slap rather than a punch. Cameron gave no resistance, daring them to bite him. When any wraith attacked him it was much to their surprise when they started to be drained of energy.

The main body of the assault swarmed the circle of defenders. The wraiths tried to find an opening past the barrage of staffs, but any contact with the staffs to the intangible wisps elicited a scream, and the injured wraith reeled back to have its position taken by another angry attacker.

Cameron was slammed into repeatedly by the mob trying to unbalance him. Struggling to break free from those wraiths who were stuck to him Cameron spun, and by happenstance managed to grab onto one of the assailants by its trailing tail. He then used the captured wraith as a bludgeon by swinging it around in a circle knocking away many within the arc. Cameron pulled out a copious amount of energy in the process.

A few of the wraith rose up over the reach of the staffs to then dive-bomb into the ring’s centre. The attack was halted by the ponchos that prevented them from attacking from behind, or getting to those huddled underneath the protective covering. Oliver turned inward and began swatting the close range targets with his staff; each blow resulted in a great howl.

The staffs which had started out pure black started to show white, indicating the hurt that was being inflicted, but it didn’t stop the onslaught. Instead it seemed to make the wraiths madder the more energy they sacrificed through engagement.

A number of wraiths began to crawl along the ground and managed to bite onto the unprotected legs of two of the defenders. These wavered and fell, but those wraiths were easily struck and beaten off. The weakened men were pulled into the middle of the group, and put under cover as the circle tightened up to adjust for the losses.

A punishing blow was delivered upon Cameron who stumbled and fell to the ground. One hand held onto his staff, but his other brushed up against a nub that stuck out of the ground. To his mind it felt like a nipple. He accidentally jammed the end of his staff into the nub as he tried to stand, resulting in a loud crash sounding like shattering glass. This was followed by a shock wave that sent all the wraiths tumbling, but had no impact on the people fighting them.

The nub then disintegrated into the grey powder that was scattered all over the ground. The defenders who witnessed what happened shouted for Cameron to hit another of the teats.

Ken managed to give concise directions by shouting to him, “Eleven feet, head to two thirty on a clock.”

Cameron got to his feet after knocking away some wraiths that had tried to hold him down. He walked one step at a time, planting each foot firmly to try to remain standing.

“One foot to your right,” Ken yelled, as he swung his staff making a solid connection. The resultant shrieking drowned out anything else he might have said.

Camron dropped down onto his knees and ran his hand over the ground, finding the nub. He again jabbed at it with his staff and the resulting reaction and concussive blast was even bigger, knocking the wraiths out of the air. The group of defenders shouted loudly celebrating the effect upon the wraith, rejoicing over the discovered means to fight back.

“Another!” hollered Cameron.

“This way,” directed Oliver, “seven feet to the left of me!”

As Cameron stumbled towards Oliver, two of the others left the protective ring and rushed over to two of the nubs that barely rose above the dust layer. Synchronizing the thrust of their staffs, both men jabbed simultaneously and the resulting blasts flung the wraiths further back than before.

Once the wraiths picked themselves up out of the dust and shook off the grey powder, they howled in unison like an angry choir - showing their displeasure. None dared approach the humans, but circled and shrieked, as the defenders regrouped and strengthened the ring.

Cameron was posed to jab another nub; he gestured his intent, which elicited a shrill from the wraiths who maintained a distance. He very slowly knelt and touched the nub, gauging that it was at least three times the size of the ones that had been destroyed.

Returning to his feet, Cameron threw out his arm, a single finger pointing away from the group of humans to emphasize his objective - then he threatened to shatter the teat with his staff.

The message got across, not without complaint however as the shrieking coming from the wraiths was earsplitting for a brief moment. But the wraiths did back away, their noise abating, letting Cameron know of the departure. The others watched as the wisps began slinking away into the thick grey gloom; soon all that could be heard was a faint din.

“We won!” exclaimed Oliver, showing a large measure of disbelieve in the turn of events.

“For now.” Ken did not want to sour the moment, but he was not ready to say the danger was past.

“Ken’s right,” admitted Cameron. “I doubt there was even fifty spirits in that attack, what happens when there’s a hundred of them, or a thousand?”

“We open another can o’ whup-ass on them!” encouraged Oliver.

“We got lucky,” confessed Ken. “Cameron was on his last legs, and the same for all of us. Against greater numbers we don’t stand a chance.”

“So we keep popping those pimples; that shook em up,” countered Troy, who had watched the battle blow by blow from safety.

“It rattled them, but I don’t think that is what drove them off,” explained Cameron.

“What do you mean?”

“I suspect the nipple I was threatening is important to them.”

“You need to explain,” came from one of the adults.

“When I touched it, it was much larger than the others. I sensed a lot of potential energy in it.”

“That’s why the wraiths suck on them - it’s how they feed,” surmised Ken.

“Compared to those nipples, we’re probably just appetizers,” conceded Cameron.

“So; what do you suggest?” asked another of the adults.

“We stay close to this nipple, they may not attack again right away, but I believe they’ll return sooner or later.”

Concord, New Hampshire.

The courtroom finally had returned to order after repeated attempts by the court officials. It was only after a bailiff had discharged his firearm into the ceiling that the pandemonium halted.

Emit Paulson basked in the furor that had erupted from so little tinkering; emotions were high, the stakes higher. This is exactly what the Goodkind's wanted, for Cameron’s legal case to rip apart any favourable public opinion of mutants.

The proceedings judge called for the court session to be dismissed and resume tomorrow in order to cool everyone down; a good idea on his part. Emit decided a coffee was a suitable reward and left to find a purveyor.

Marissa Dawson sat down at the table and let out an exhausted sigh. That last go-round had been damaging; she knew it, but couldn’t let her client see it in her eyes. Marissa had hoped to deal in facts, instead there was name calling and mud-slinging … Why did it always come down to the level of being in day-care?!

Looking over at Elizabeth Carson, who sat with her head bowed, her breaths short and in sporadic fits. If she would have spoken you would have heard the pain. This close, Marissa could see the streaked mascara and the puffy eyelids.

In a soft controlled voice Liz asked, “Are they going to use that recording from my office?”

“I’m sure of it,” admitted Marissa.

“I don’t understand, I’ve played it over and over, but when it happened - I heard Ronald Lundquist’s voice.”

“Are you saying they doctored the recording?”

“No! I had Delarose check our tapes, they’re identical. But I heard Ronald Lundquist, not Cameron Burke, in the office.”

“Liz! I’m sorry, but I can’t build a case on what you thought you heard. We’re in enough trouble. I can’t open the door that you might be hearing voices.”

“I should have listened to the little voice that told me not to accept Outlook’s application to Whateley. It had too many inconsistencies.”

“Why did you? He’s not a mutant.”

“I thought we could actually help him. He’s a hard luck case like so many of my kids; an orphan with a messed up life.”

“You’d pick up every stray off the street.”

“So sue me!” the smile was weak, but Liz did manage one. “Outlook was so intriguing: a power set I’d never heard off before, an odd physical condition, plus a tough medical history.”

“I noticed he was under a psychiatrist’s care for emotional issues. I had hoped it was mental problems; that would have given me something to work with.”

“You’d willingly exploit a person’s faults?”

“It would depend on how serious the situation. Sometimes the moral high ground is a luxury when you’re fighting for your life… Wait!… You’ve got something don’t you!”

“On his school application, look at the date of birth!”

February 29, 2008
Outside Quebec City.

“I can’t believe you punched me!” complained Tim, as he doctored his eye, gingerly holding the wrapped ice Marcus handed him.

“I told you to keep your hands up!” counselled Marcus from the vans front seat. “It’s a defensive posture; then you’re ready in case your opponent leaves an opening.” Marcus was trying to ensure their sparing lesson wasn’t a complete waste.

“I’m gonna have a black eye!”

“It’s your own fault, you walked into it,” pointed out Rachel as she leaned forward from the seat behind to say close his ear.

“Like you can do better,” Tim snarked back.

“I’m not the one with a shiner,” Rachel snickered.

Alan laughed out-loud at that, giving his seat mate a nudge. They had mixed up the seating, and Alan had wanted to sit with Ella, but Rachel had jumped into the van’s third row chair before he could make his move.

“Sisters are good at pointing out the obvious,” noted Alan.

“Tell me about it! I have two of them,” huffed a frustrated Tim, who sat back allowing the ice to rest atop his eye. “I just wanted to be better prepared; I haven’t done much fighting. What about you?”

Alan wondered just what he should say. His heart won teller’s rights, “I’m afraid I have been in a number of battles, each worse than the one before. I desire peace but can see that it must be fought for.”

Ella picked up on the conversation and asked her own question, directed to Lynn seated in the row behind, “Are we expecting a fight?”

Lynn sat looking out the window giving a long ‘Hhmmm’, “I don’t know,” she gave in an apologetic tone. “I have seen when and where we need to be, but the rest isn’t clear … I’m sorry.”

From the front seat came the suggestion, “We are all tied together by knowing Cameron, why don’t we share with each other how we met him?”

Lynn blurted out, “Before we swap stories, Ella, Alan and I need to tell you something, it’s important. We are Were!”

The van’s occupants mulled that over until Roche said, “About halfway between Sainte-Marie and Thetford Mines.”

Even Ella laughed at that. Alan interjected, “It is better said that we are Were-folk. No doubt you have heard of Werewolves. Unfortunately movies and fables have painted us as bloodthirsty beasts, and that stereotype is a great misconception.”

“You change form,” stated a nonchalant Rachel. “Ella is a fox, Alan and Lynn are panthers,” the revelation not phasing her in the slightest, although her saying so soothed her siblings.

Charlotte on the other hand made an impassioned plea, “Show me! Show me!”

Lynn obliged and changed to her kitten form. The tiny little puffball of black fur and amazing green eyes looked up at the young girl sitting beside her. Charlotte’s eyes went big as saucers, followed by raising her hands into small fists, and they vibrated in glee to her saying, “So Cute!!!”

Lynn stretched before sauntering over onto Charlottes lap and flopping down. The girl was ecstatic at being able to pet the tiny cat. Tim looked questioningly at Alan and asked, “How about you?”

Alan looked around himself to then say, “Not enough room.”

Elle stared at Rachel, half in curiosity and half in indignation before saying, “I don’t do requests.”

“I didn’t ask, but you want to know how I knew?” garnered Rachel. “Psychic, you can hide physically but not mentally. Before I allow you to put my family in harm’s way; what is this binding you’re trying to break?”

Concord, New Hampshire.

Emit Paulson arrived early to ensure getting a good seat in the courtroom, he wanted to sit as close to the action as possible, it allowed him to watch the lawyers - see any tells that might give away their hand. By being close he could also get a feel for their mental state, that spoke to how they assessed the hearing was going.

The table for the State was eager, they knew they had damning evidence to present, whereas the representation for Mrs. Carson didn’t look right, it was jovial, smiles and happy. Emit was puzzled, since to him the outcome was a done deal.

When the Judge entered and took his Dias, the room was called to order.

Looking down at a paper the Judge’s expression shifted from grumpy to become appalled. Emit was now beyond curious, what had changed?

The Judge spoke with a scowl, “I have a request from the defence that this hearing be dismissed. Mrs. Dawson, as counsel for the defendant, please explain your reasoning.”

Marissa Dawson stood to make her address, “My client has been charged with child abuse. I am drawing the court’s attention to the fact that the State has failed to demonstrate where and when such a situation occurred,” only be cut off before she could continue.

States Lawyer: “Your honour, we are prepared to submit such evidence.”

Marissa Dawson continued, “As I was endeavouring to say, The State has failed to produce a situation of endangerment, therefor the charges of child abuse must be dropped.”

This was a twist that caught Emit’s attention.

Seeing that she had the judges attention, Marissa Dawson pointed out, “The State is claiming that my client willfully brought harm, by denying the basic necessities of food and shelter to an underage minor. If it pleases the court; Cameron Burke was born November 11, 1985, making him twenty-one at the time of the alleged crimes.”

The Judge ‘hurmpt' loudly at that news, matched by the State’s lawyer quickly checking her notes.

The State’s Lawyer approached the bench, saying, “The State acknowledges the date of Cameron Burke’s birth. But we have medical records showing that the victim had been incapacitated for seven and a half years in a coma. Cameron Burke only had thirteen years of accumulated life experience, certainly not enough to be called an adult.”

The Judge called a break as he withdrew to his chambers, and everyone grew restless waiting for his return. After two hours, the lawyers responded to an invitation to join the judge. An hour later all parties returned to the courtroom.

The Judge called the courtroom to quiet before addressing the room. “After deliberations and consultation, I was unable to find any precedent that allowed me to roll back the clock. On the contrary, there are many cases where a youth claims the right of majority due to demonstrating advanced development, not a reverse. I find I cannot support the State’s motion and must dismiss the charges against Mrs. Elizabeth Carson.”

Mediwihla Village.

Ben returned to his lair, lighting the lamp that burned in a holder on the small room’s wall. Stationed in the middle of the hand hewn cavern sat a table piled high with books, parchments and scrolls.

After many days his search was bearing fruit, as he’d uncovered much on the Were’s history. Last night Eloise was shocked when he told her about why Panthers were sought as leaders among the Were. He’d at last unearthed how the binding to the seven courts had been performed, and by who! The council of elders sent a Were pantheress to make a peace treaty. It necessitated the Were swearing to be subjugated to the seven courts, what’s more, it was a blood oath.

In-order for Ben to get as concise a history of events possible, he had called many of the leading Were houses to gather their recollections. Oral tradition allowed for variation, but the central tenant held true. The Sidhe had made a pact swearing that if the Were aligned with the Seven Courts, the Sidhe would grant protection to all the Were.

The phone call he had with Ella last night had been unnerving, he had been surprised to speak with Eloise’s niece Lynn, from whom he had been instructed to make the necessary arrangements. These were as dictated by the old ways, and supported in the texts he’d read.

Ben had gone earlier in the day to seek an audience with the Grove, he had spent many hours conferring with the conifers. He had to present his request succinctly as there is no beating around the bush with a bunch of bushes. But it was successful! The grove agreed to host a parlance to air a grievance.

Sitting back down to his desk Ben rechecked his writings, ensuring it was all in order. A mistake now would carry penalties. His hand shook as he dipped the quill into the ink pot and scratched out the last remaining words onto the velum.

He gave the documents to the duly appointed messengers and bid them haste. If Lynn was right, and he had every reason to believe she was, timing was critical. His assignment done, Ben breathed a sigh in relief; he could now afford to relax and give attention to what he’d found. He hoped Cameron was okay, from what Lynn had said there was reason to worry.

End of Part 5

What's the Matter With You: Part 6

Author:

Camospam

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

7,500 < Novelette < 17,500 words

Genre:

Superheroes

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Female to Male

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

What’s The Matter With You, Part 6

By Camospam, editing by Wendy K

A Non-Canon Whateley Universe tale.

Saturday March 1, 2008.
Poe Cottage, Whateley Academy

6:00 o’clock in the morning remained one of the few quiet times in Poe cottage, aside from those few early risers who either didn’t or couldn’t sleep and greeted the day pre-dawn. Toni Chandler was not one of those who rose before the sun, but when she did wake she was at full throttle - ready for whatever the day might bring.

Toni’s roommate on the other hand needed some encouragement.

“Nikki! Come on girl! We’ve only got a half hour to get ready! Bardue scheduled us to unleash his latest nasty Sim this morning. He wants to torture the Grunts or something, and we’re expected to hand it to them.”

“There is no such thing as six o’clock in the morning on Saturday. Come back at a decent hour,” mumbled the redhead, wrapped tightly in a cocoon of warm blankets.

This wasn’t a big surprise for Toni. everyone else, outside Poe, only ever saw the ravishing beauty that was Nikki Reilly. Everyday Toni witnessed the transformation of the caterpillar like Sidhe, which slowly emerged from her bed to then become the personification of grace and poise, a regal figure who in every detail looked a queen.

Many times Toni just sat and watched the morning show. It was a rough mess - a tangle of entwined and distorted red hair, unfocused bleary eyes, oh, and the drool! Sometimes Nikki’s drool had run down all the way to her chin. Caked on, it would glisten if the light was just right. Eventually she managed to get it all tamed, given enough time the girl became an absolutely stunning vision. Just a single glance at Fey could stop most boy’s breath - or make their heart race. What a shock it would be for the world to see what Toni saw routinely each morning - society might not survive.

But right now this disheveled young girl hated mornings with a passion, this was the real person behind the facade - the real girl that Toni knew and had befriended. To Toni Chandler everything else about Nikki Reilly was an act.

“I’ve already let you sleep in! There’s no time for this … we’ve got to get going!” coerced Toni as she began tugging on the bedsheets to encourage movement. The rush of cold air only tightened the death grip from within the blankets. Toni halted the tug-a-war when a knock on the door interrupted them.

In a single vault Toni leapt, making a ten-point summersault with a twist, executing a perfect landing at the room’s door. Toni only opened the door a slight crack to peer into the hallway and didn’t see anyone. Toni began to close the door when a rapid series of thumps sounded heavily upon the door, startling her.

Toni opened the door wide and fast to catch the culprit in the act, upset at the obvious trick being played upon her. When doing so, she saw a blur rush past her feet and she reflectively jumped out of the way, the little interloper moved fast as a lightning bolt.

Toni wasn’t going to let anyone or anything invade her space, reflexively she dove. Her arms outstretched to encircle and grab onto the intruder, and it was a shock to find her arms had entrapped something warm and furry. Drawing her arms in her face was the recipient of multiple kicks from powerful hind legs. Those feet then propelled the little beast out of her grasp as it then began to bound off furniture like a thrown rubber ball.

Toni alerted Fey to the danger by shouting, ”Incoming!”

Nikki pulled back the sheets to expose her face. She was as expected - bleary eyed and not altogether coherent, “Wa?” was the extent of her comprehension to a change in her morning’s slumber.

“Jade is pranking us again. Cabbit on the loose,” warned Toni. The martial artist made another dashing maneuver sliding across the floor in an attempt to secure the wild critter she had tracked to intercept. She got a hand around one leg, but it quickly squirmed itself free, leaving Toni laying mostly on the floor resting bottoms up against her dresser.

Nikki blinked her long lashes repeatedly and squinted to bring focus to her situation. Mere inches from her face was that of a tawny coloured rabbit looking down at her from atop her blankets. The rabbit sniffed, then opened its mouth to drop the small package it had been carrying. The item landed on Nikki’s pillow and came to rest beside her head.

The rabbit jumped down quickly from off the Sihde queen’s bed and hopped calmly over to the door. Before it left the room, the rabbit turned to give Toni a look before it bounced down the hallway.

“I’m gonna give Jade such a wedgie, she’ll …”

“That wasn’t Jade. It was a real rabbit.”

“Are you telling me you’ll be getting visits from small woodland creatures now? … Like Mary Poppins?”

“I think you mean Snow White.”

“Whatever!!! It stuck it’s tongue out at me.”

“You’re just imagining things.” 

“I saw it, a little pink bunny tongue - it was trying to blow a raspberry.”

Voices came from down the hallway from others members of Team Kimba, the open door attracted Billie Wilson who stepped into the doorway. She was wrapped in a towel since she had just finished taking a shower. Arriving a few steps behind her came Ayla Goodkind, also concerned over the ruckus he squeezed in beside Billie to check on the rooms occupants.

“What’s all the commotion?” questioned Billie.

“Nikki’s started to attract forest creatures,” bemoaned Toni.

“It was just a rabbit,” retorted Nikki.

“She’s losing it!” scoffed Toni in a pained voice. “At no time can you say ‘just’ when you’re getting visited by wild critters.”

“What did it want?” pondered Ayla.

“It’s a rabbit! How do I know what it wanted?” boggled Toni, before providing some details; ”It knocked on the door - so obviously it wanted in our room. It bounced off the walls for a minute - took a look at carrot-top here then hit the road.”

“Toni tried to catch it and had her butt handed to her,” snickered Nikki.

“I did catch it … twice, but it was like a greased pig and got away,” defended Toni.

“When have you ever entered a rodeo and tried catching a greased pig?” posed Ayla.

“I’m still working through how it knocked on the door,” mused Billie. “You’re sure it wasn’t one of Jade’s practical jokes?”

“What did I do now?” complained Jade as she joined the group squirming past the two blocking the door. “How come you guys aren’t getting ready for the SIM?”

“Toni’s miffed cause she had a run in with a bunny,” said Nikki, who had progressed to sitting upright.

“What did Bunny do?” worried Jade for her Wondercute teammate.

“Not Bunny - a bunny, a rabbit - little furry critter, long ears, powder puff tail,” supplied an exasperated Toni.

Nikki quickly inserted, “Pink tongue - don’t forget it had a pink tongue too,” earning her a scowl from Toni.

“Where is it?” perked up Jade.

“It ran out into the hall,” answered Toni.

“You mean you’ve let a cute bunny run loose around Poe and nobody thought to catch it?” complained a concerned Jade.

“What? I’m not allowed to roam the halls freely anymore?” questioned Bunny Cormick, overhearing the comment as she attempted to pass by the gathered crowd.

Ayla tried to sooth a potential dispute. “No no, Toni let a rabbit loose.”

Bunny was aghast at not having been brought in on the secret, “When did you get a pet rabbit?!”

Toni lost it. “It’s not my rabbit!”

Jade saw an opportunity and asked, “Can I have it?”

“You people are driving me crazy!” stormed Toni.

“If it isn’t assigned seating I call shotgun,” remarked Jade.

“Out! Everyone out!” shouted Toni, too loudly given the time of day, “We have to get ready,” nearly slamming the door on Jade’s backside who was the last one to exit.

Toni stood with clenched fists, fuming until she calmed - straightening her rumpled pyjamas. Turning she was stunned to see Fey fully dressed and looking like a movie star: hair, clothes, and mascara perfect, all thanks to a magic spell she had just finished performing.

Toni moved close with a finger pointed in frustration, “You! - ohh - I otta …”

“You like? It’s a new trick I learned,” informed Nikki as she admired herself in the small mirror atop her dresser.

“I don’t have time for this!”

“Not my fault you wasted your morning hunting rabbits, everyone knows its duck season,” teased Nikki.

Spotting something left upon her roommates bed, Toni picked up the little log shaped roll, “Your admirer left a present.”

“Please tell me it didn’t …”

“It looks like a scroll of some kind.”

“That’s a relief! Do I open it?”

“Probably a good idea,” supplied Toni.

Nikki broke the wax seal that held the tiny roll securely closed, then gently started unraveling the message.

“That’s some weird looking paper.” 

“Ewww, I think it’s rawhide.”

“What's it say?” questioned Chaka.

“I’ve been summoned to the Grove on Saturday!” stammered Fey.

Thursday March 5, 2008. Medawihla Lands

The highlands surrounding Whateley Academy included a prominence that looking over the schools grounds below, perched atop that hilltop sat a black panther tracking the goings on as students moved about the campus. The panther’s tail twitched, flicking to and fro as if keeping time.

The nearby undergrowth parted to reveal a red fox. It moved with typical stealth, an ingrained hunting technique to avoid detection. The fox approached the occupied panther with silent strides and slow movements until it lay down a respectful distance behind the panther.

Lynn took her human form, staying seated she looked out over the valley. “It looks so peaceful, Cameron said very little about it. You didn’t find him by chance did you?”

“His scent permeates several locations, but nothing recent,” reported Ella, now also human. Kneeling on the ground where she had set down as a fox, she hesitated before speaking, “My Lady,” her voice holding reverence, “may I ask a question?”

“Is it too much to ask for you to call me Lynn?”

“I must honour my family’s oath.”

“Even if it makes me feel like an oaf?! You know, I hate to burst your bubble, but my Mom is an outcast, I belong to no tribe and answer to no chief. You’re not even supposed to speak with me.”

“But the prophecy! You are the Pantheress - the farsighted one!”

“Prophecy huh? Tell me, you’ve tested Cameron - what does the Oberon pledge say?”

“He failed,” revealed a dejected Ella.

“But he carry’s my mark! If he isn’t the Golden Eyed Man, then by rights I cannot be the Pantheress.”

“But …”

“A prophecy is rarely understood, most often it’s been layered under ages of speculation and over zealous anticipation. Those awaiting fulfillment always overshadow the true meaning, putting their own want and desires onto it - to ensure the future is to their liking and to suit their purposes. The future rarely comes about exactly how we imagine it, or expect it to be.”

“You suggest my tests were biased?”

“Had you ever considered why the Prophecy speaks of it being a Golden Eyed Man and not a Golden Eyed Were?”

“My tests required it to be a Were for him to pass,” realized Ella.

“So I ask again; is Cameron the Golden Eyed Man?”

“I…He…” stammered Ella.

“Try and answer this instead. Since you’d already deemed he wasn’t the Golden Eyed Man, why did you remain in Cameron’s company - as his Oberon?”

It took a moment for Ella to respond, “He was our first real hope for change.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret about prophecy, the only time the future is seen with one hundred percent clarity is when it’s in the past. Precognition only fills in some of the holes.”

“The coming battle … is it all just chance?”

“So far we know the where, the when, and the why. Who is still somewhat uncertain so I suggest we discuss what we can do with what we have.”

“If you’re wanting a battle strategy, dividing our forces is a weakness we can ill afford, especially when we are not a cohesive fighting unit.”

“Your point?”

“We cannot support multiple fronts when the fighting starts. By sending our new friends away we have in effect sacrificed them.”

“I’m worried about them too!” admitted Lynn, looking out over the school below them. “Cameron said several times how much he hated this place. It looks peaceful enough - just like you’d expect a private school too.”

”The stink of gunpowder and wounded ground tells of recent battle,” corrected Ella.

“The school has gun ranges and fields for weapon testing rather than playgrounds and ball fields,” countered Lynn.

“It’s a military college then,” deduced Ella.

“Not that Cameron or my Dad mentioned. Although it’s hard to determine just what all goes on in there, so much is underground,” pondered Lynn at the conundrum Cameron had left her with.

“Is that why you’re the sending the humans in; reconnaissance?” surmised Ella.

“Cameron said you’re always looking for a fight, he wasn’t exaggerating!” teased Lynn.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” puffed up Ella.

“Good!” granted Lynn with a mischievous grin. “No - They will be staring down the barrel of a different gun than ourselves. But if either front falters, the future is very dark indeed.”

Lynn’s eyes searched the vista before them and gave a sigh of resignation over the situation, “What do you need to know to form a battle plan?”

Saturday, March 8, 2008. The Grove.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined anything of the like. She wasn’t certain when it was that the forest they had been walking through had changed. But that feeling of being watched … hearing whispers just out-of range; the hair on Lynn’s neck bristled in response to her senses picking up the difference. She was just not fully convinced yet if it was dangerous.

Ben had lead them down an overgrown track, not really even a game trail it was so hard to traverse. Gradually the branches began to withdraw back on their own accord and the narrow route widened into an obvious path. Rounding a bend, the small group entered upon a large clearing.

The amphitheater was surrounded by ancient trees whose grand height set a backdrop reminiscent of greek columns. In the basin’s flat centre was a series of stumps arrayed into a semi-circle, behind the stumps the moss covered ground was layered into steps that radiated outward making seating for a substantial audience.

There comes a point when a person’s incredulity maxes out, so you’re just left with your mouth hanging open in sheer bewilderment. Lynn Franklin had hit that point a while ago and now just hoped she hadn’t resorted to drooling like an imbecile.

Already present in the clearing was a few species who claimed sections of the arena. Each group seated themselves into clusters, close enough for the diverse species to converse, but staying tight-knit to prevent mingling.

Lynn drew a big smile, the tell-tale bright colours intermixed with polka-dots easily identified gnomes. The little fairy folk loved to adorn themselves in such outlandish fashion. A troop of gnomes had been traveling on a quest when the Franklins accidentally found them, inviting them to stay at their farm … what gnomes can do with a garden was amazing! The gnomes used the farm as a base to search the area for two years before moving on.

Lynn made the elaborate gestures of greeting she had learned from having spent time with the gnomes. Some of the tiny folk toppled over from surprise, but quickly recovered to respond with a suitable indicator of welcome.

Another group Lynn recognized was wood nymphs, or Dryads. She and Allan had a chance encounter with a young Dryad one afternoon when they had set out to climb a mountain in panther form. It had been so much fun playing together, running wildly in the forest. Remembering that brief encounter, Lynn mimicked the formal bow with swept back arms, receiving the same back from the Dryads.

No sooner had Lynn stood aright from her elaborate bow when a bright light stationed itself in front of her. Within the glow stood a diminutive girl holding a spear. Giving credit where it was due: Disney movies had already depicted pixies, so Lynn wasn’t at a complete loss, but come on! … Tinkerbell! Who knew?

The pixie closed her right fist and pressed it over her heart. Lynn copied the motion, to which the pixie bent into a curtsy and swept her right arm into a long flourish. Setting aside her awe, Lynn followed suit resulting in the ball of light zipping around her head before taking off into the trees. Tracing the light’s trajectory, Lynn then saw that those tree branches were filled with pixies. Lynn made another chest bump, curtsy, and flourish towards them.

Ella ushered the trio down to the stumps in the basin’s centre where she positioned Lynn, sitting her with Ben to the right, and Ella taking up the left side.

Movement drew everyones attention back to the entrance. Out from the growth came a rough looking figure, it was certainly female wearing leathers, but it looked like she was made of stone - and covered in tattoos. She made a slight nod of acknowledgement to those around, holding up a tiny scroll to indicate admittance then moved under a tree and leaned against it.

A few steps behind her was another girl, who was Asian in appearance but her ears weren’t human looking, she wore a Whateley school uniform. The girl’s striking dark blue hair was a spectacle since it looked like a lions mane spreading out, acting as if it had no regard for gravity. It was Ella who pointed out that her feet didn’t touch the ground as she moved further into the clearing. She also had one of the little scrolls in her hand.

Immediately behind the floating girl was a woman who’s attire looked to be woven vines, the green leafs providing covering. She entered the clearing and pointed the floating young girl toward some seats. A step behind them was a tall native man. The necklace hung around his neck was made of beads - his presence was unmistakable; a Shaman.

A hush fell over those assembled, shortly after which out of the forest emerged two figures. The first of which was a pretty girl who’s long green hair blended into the foliage, her pointed ears caught Lynn’s attention; she’s a Sidhe!

Lynn had to force herself to breath after the shock took hold because standing on the edge of the clearing now stood a regal personage. Every fibre of Lynn’s being demanded she kneel and do obeisance, Lynn looked over to Ben and then Ella and joined them down on the ground.

The two newest attendee’s walked down to claim the stump seats in the basin to the Were’s right. Only after the redhead sat did the mental pressure subside allowing Lynn to return to her seat.

A curious look across the short distance across from them, sat by far the prettiest girl she had ever seen. Ringlets of red hair fell about her face and hung down onto her shoulders. With every movement she made the mane bounced and danced about as if crowning her head like a tiara of flame.

She had green eyes that looked as deep as an ocean but as clear as glass, the symmetry of her face was beyond gorgeous, centred by a little button nose, full lips and flawless skin. The tips of pointed ears divided strands of her hair and marked her as not being human; it only added to her beauty.

There was the briefest moment of eye contact between them and Lynn noted a nervousness in those eyes … those eyes which in colour and emotion twinned her own!

Lynn performed the most honest and pure thing possible; she smiled, and that too was matched.

Whateley Academy

Marcus opened the van door to allow his foster children egress. They stayed close until Roche had stepped around the van to join them. The group had remained behind in Berlin until today - the day Lynn had said they would be needed, so they had arranged their visit according to plan.

“Hello! I am Michiko Shugendo, the school’s Dean of Students. Welcome to Whateley Academy.” greeted a woman walking up towards them.

“Mrs. Shugendo, I am Marcus Johnson, class of 95,” greeted Marcus shaking the woman’s hand. “These are my three foster children: Timothy, Rachel and Charlotte.”

“So glad you could make it, we received your request to tour our school. I have arranged for accommodations in the Guest Quarters for your stay and I have also asked one of our students to act as guide. But first, why don’t we head over to Schuster Hall to sort through some formalities.”

“Pardons Mrs. Shugendo,” interrupted Roche, “could you provide directions to your medical centre? We have an appointment for powers testing. The facilities back home were not equipped to provide sufficient testing, not enough for accurately ranking this mademoiselle.” mentioned Roche bringing R.E.D. out from behind Marcus - the most suitable place to provide her cover due to his height.

“Of course, We can get you all looked after once we get you signed in,” agreed Mrs. Shugendo, motioning the newcomers forward.

As the ensemble entered the stately brick building, the cluster of youth stood awkwardly in the hallway while Marcus and Roche sorted out paperwork. A bell rang indicating a class change, the hall suddenly became awash with students scrambling to their next class. Caught in the stampede, the strangers became an obstacle to be overcome as they got jostled and pushed about.

R.E.D. wore her usual grey hoodie with it covering her head. A large bull of boy purposely walked into her expecting she would be effortlessly pushed aside; instead she and he remained solidly in place, an unstoppable force held fast after meeting an immovable object.

“Outta the way girly!” briskly said the brute as he put his hand onto R.E.D.’s shoulder to push her into the wall. He immediately withdrew his red hand in agony yelling, “Key-ryest!”.

“One should not put their hand where it is not welcome,” informed Roche, who observed what had happened. “Run cold water over it, then have a doctor check to see how deep the burn is,” he informed the whimpering boy.

The sudden rush abated as quickly as it has started, the altercation not even fazing the other students who disappeared into classrooms.

Mrs. Shugendo acted to head off the potential worry building within the newcomers. “Saturdays are not regular school days, but we run elective courses on the weekends, and extra classroom time for those falling behind before spring break,” she informed as she handed out clipboards to collect signatures.

With the formalities completed, Mrs. Shugendo lead them down into the space underneath the large dome everyone had spied when first arriving; it was connected to the first building they’d entered. “This is the Crystal Hall, our main cafeteria for students. Why don’t you grab a beverage while we wait for your tour guide?”

“You could feed an army!” stated Roche looking on in amazement.

“There was only the bottom floor when I was here,” remarked Marcus.

“The Crystal Hall now has seating for just over six hundred. The kitchens boast some of the finest chefs to be found. The original building was a legacy project, but it was the class of 2007 who added the tiers and other amenities such as the waterfall,” informed Mrs. Shugendo. “Please, make yourselves at home. The drinks counter has a nice assortment of fruit juices, and if you ask one of the attendants they can get you coffee,” directed Mrs. Shugendo. Then turning to face Roche she added, “I’ll check on the lab,” after which she walked over to a pillar picking up a phone and speaking into the receiver.

The four youth scouted out the assortment of drinks available, rejoining the adults while sipping drinks. Mrs. Shugendo had finished her call and was speaking with Roche and Marcus.

“You came in the same van, do you know each other?”

“I had the pleasure of meeting Timbre last year,“ admitted Roche. “It was a pleasant surprise to find we stayed at the same hotel last night. He knew the way here so we came together.”

A young man in a lab coat approached, but detoured around the main body of the group when Mrs. Shugendo pointed out R.E.D. He walked straight up to tall hooded girl saying, “Miss, If you’ll follow me, I can take you for testing.”

“Might I stay with her?” asked Roche. “She is nervous, and this leads to … how should I say - unfortunate complications.”

“Please elaborate,” sought a now curious lab coat.

“If Flambé gets over-anxious she tends to get hot; her touch has melted steel. I’m a friend here to help keep her calm.”

“Of course, I believe the Doctors in the Lab would appreciate your presence. Will you be taking a tour of the school after testing is done?” interjected Mrs. Shugendo.

“If there is time we would enjoy a chance to see this marvellous school,” beamed Roche.

The lab tech took Flambé and Roche over to an elevator; only a quick wave could be given in farewell before the door closed and they were gone.

Mrs. Shugendo walked the short distance over to a youth who had approached and was standing nearby. The attractive black haired girl was sporting a goth inspired look, but dressed in a well tailored school uniform. Bringing her to the group, the administrator announced, “Usually we have one of the residents from the dorm you’d be billeted in conduct the tour, but since this is just an introductory visit I have asked one of our more exemplary students to show you around.”

“Swift, Perspicacious, Excelle, meet Phase.” Directing her comments to the student Mrs. Shugendo said, “Phase, please show our Canadian guests around, they are here to see if Whateley is suitable to satisfy their educational needs.”

As the group followed the directions of the student up an escalator Charlotte whispered to her sister, “Perspiration?” Timothy heard the exchange and laughed heartily.

“Perspicacious! I had to give the school a code name on the forms we signed - it was the only thing I could come up with in a hurry,” huffed Rachel.

“It means: having keen mental perception,” interjected Phase. “a suitable moniker for a Psychic. ‘Swift’ no doubt chosen by a Speedster. ‘Excel’ potentially an Exemplar?”

“I’m an Exemplar / Energizer mix,” proudly proclaimed Charlotte, receiving a warning head shake from her sister.

“Don’t worry, Whateley is a place of safety. Revealing abilities isn’t sacrosanct among ourselves. Most often it’s used as an opener to get know each other,” placated Phase.

“So there’s more to ‘Phase’ then teenage mood swings?” asked Rachel.

“Density manipulation,” supplied Phase.

“How do the dorms get assigned? Do speedsters all get put altogether?” wondered Tim / Swift.

“There are boy’s and girl’s dormitories; each floor is populated by students in the same grade, so freshmen on the first floor, seniors on the top. We also have dorms to provide for special needs: Hawthorne for example, has a resident doctor for the students needing extensive medical assistance.”

“Hawthorn? As in the tree?” wondered Rachel.

“Named after the author. All of the buildings have been named after authors.”

“Which is yours?” asked Tim.

“I am in Poe, a co-ed dorm.”

“Isn’t that just kinda asking for trouble?” assessed Rachel.

“We have adult supervision, House mothers … or fathers. As well, we’ve got student advisors who act as big brothers or sisters.” The group stopped beside a two seated table on the cafeterias second level tucked away behind a pillar. “Here we are, I believe this is something you’re wanting to see.”

“What’s so special about …?” started Tim.

“Observe the pattern imbedded within the tabletop, this is where Outlook sat. He marked his spot,” instructed Ayla. The whole the group clammed up sharing glances between them.

“Why else would a group of Canadians show up at the door - he’s been missing since Christmas, I imagine you’re trying to find him.”

The Grove

Lynn sat on the surprisingly comfortable stump situated between her Were companions, Ella and Ben. More Were had shown up to be in attendance and taken outlying seats, undoubtedly having come to be present as observers at this parley. Among them was her aunt Eloise Donner whom Lynn had met for the first time when they arrived at the Mediwhila village. Joining Eloise was her brother Allan and a few delegates from Grand Council, who still growled at Lynn for usurping their position.

There had been much debate over who would represent the Were today and of course many ego’s had asserted that they should be the voice of the people. It was Ben who advised that since the pact had been a blood bond it needed to be a descendant of the first panther. The choice came down to either Eloise or Lynn.

Eloise decided to let Lynn be the one, as she put it, ‘she’s the farsighted pantheress’. So Lynn was put forward, and so it was Lynn who now carried the future of the Were on her slim shoulders.

Presiding over the assorted menagerie, sat an amalgamation of sticks and twigs interwoven with mosses and foliage into the shape of a man. Even so, it was only a manifestation to personify the Grove, the living forest in which they sat. When it spoke it sounded like the deep groan of trees bending in the wind.

Seated on a log in front of her was a row of potential jurors awaiting selection. It wasn’t that Lynn hadn’t been aware of fairy folk - it’s just that she hadn’t met so many different kinds before. So far it had taken three hours and they had only settled upon two jurors.

Standing up and facing the presiding officer was the floating blue haired girl introduced as Billie Wilson. She looked uncomfortable and a tad nervous and when she and Lynn’s eyes met she even looked apologetic for being there.

“Star Destroyer!” said the twig thing in a voice emoting a hint of repulsion, “Feel you that you could hear testimony and render a fair judgement?”

“Any judgement I might make would be clouded by my association with the accused, we are friends - sisters in arms.”

“The Star Destroyer has never been known to be given to emotion, how many civilizations have perished at your hand? Yet say you - you are unfit to make judgement because of friendship?”

“I am not this Star Destroyer of yours, I am Billie Wilson … Tennyo if you must. The girl brought before you is as close to me as family, do not ask me to set aside a friendship that is more precious to me than my next breath.”

Lynn rose and faced the host, “The aggrieved do not think this juror could offer an unbiased decision, we recommend she be excused.” Lynn caught the mouthed ‘Thank You’ on Billie’s lips.

After a moment filled with a low long groan the voice of the forest spoke, “Leave!”

With her head held down in a show of respect Billie asked, “May I stay to give my friend moral support?”

Another stump slowly emerged beside the redhead for Billie. After a long hug with a gush of anguish escaping from Fey during the squeeze, Billie sat down while the next prospective juror was called and came forward.

“Artificer! Have you the capacity to fathom the proceedings to which you’ve been called?” moaned the forest.

“I have attended many such hearings, and know very well the magnitude at stake from any decision this hearing reaches,” said the formidable looking tattooed girl.

“Explain yourself!” demanded the tree being.

“On five occasions, I have been present for testimony and borne the results of rendered decisions.”

“As a witness?”

“As disputed property!” spat out the stone girl in disgust.

“Have you sentience?”

“I am a person, free - unbound. No one owns me, nor ever shall. Woe to any who puts into their feeble mind an attempt at enslaving me.”

“Can you give an unfettered ear to a case against a former owner?”

“Aunghadhail was a Sihde queen to whom I was a slave. The girl before you today might be her heir, but is not the lady herself,” explained Caitlin Bardue. “At this ones’ hand, I have only ever received honour and fairness. I can repay the same.”

“Aggrieved. What say you?”

“We give welcome to the voice of a freed slave,” stated Lynn after standing, then bowing to the stone girl.

“Accused?”

“I have reservations; as a juror, her history could sway against any reasonable argument brought forward. With regret, I cannot agree to her addition and seek she be excused.”

“As host I cast the deciding vote in favour of retaining this juror. Join the bench Artificer.”

“I raise a point of order,” called out Fey. “To grant this one a seat of judgement is to elevate her station.” 

“You object to calling the Artificer a citizen?”

“I would suggest a council be called to address that as a separate issue,” said Nikki, looking apologetically at Caitlin.

“Do you claim her as property?” questioned the forest.

“No!” emphatically stated Nikki - emphasized with a head shake.

“Does any lay claim as owner?” sought the talking tree and received no comment from those gathered.

“Since she bears no chain of slavery, and none seek her as chattel, then she is without bond. If called to judge she is honour bound to heed,” declared the trees. “We have a triune; seek you more to adjudicate?”

“We are satisfied,” responded Lynn after being prodded by Ben.

“It will suffice,” granted the heir apparent.

“Aggrieved, present your case,” commanded the forest.

The Void

“Come on Patti, you gotta try making a portal so we can get outta here!” connived Troy.

“Leave her alone Troy. She doesn’t want to do it,” admonished Oliver. ”She already said she’s scared, she’s worried that it could open somewhere worse.”

“Cause we’re in such a garden spot now!” bitterly complained Troy. “Can’t be anywhere worse than here.”

“I can think of one or two,” suggested Cameron. “Patricia was never shown how to anchor, open, or cast a portal forward. We can’t fault her for being worried.”

“How do you know so much about portals?” Questioned Patti.

“I had access to a rather extensive Library, many books talked about magic, but none of it made sense to me,” answered Cameron.

“Portals are magic?” wondered Patti.

“It’s a very specific talent, very rare,” informed Cameron. ”Those who can make portals typically can’t do any other magic and it’s very difficult for other mages to make them, or so I read.”

“So all Patti has to do is wiggle her fingers and prest-o change-o we’ve got us a portal!” summarized Troy with a gloat.

“Do you want to chance getting dropped onto the sun, or into outer space?” asked Ken Tallman. “It’s better if we come up with a way to defend ourselves.”

“Ken’s right,” agreed Cameron. “The amount of friendly places we could end up are very slim. If we make a bubble out of our poncho’s and use the poles as a frame, it might stop the wraiths from getting at us,” suggested Cameron.

“For how long?” Troy demanded getting mad.

“Until they stop,” informed Ken, while he handed the gathered ponchos over to Cameron for him to bind them together.

“They don’t seem like the type to give up,” expressed a sulking Troy.

“Then until we come up with something better,” counselled Ken.

The Grove

“It is known near and far among the Fairy folk that Were are bound,” commenced Ben. “A pact was sealed back when the Sidhe courts ruled. Back in a time of war, a time when the world had been divided into factions. Impoverishment and famine had befallen most, few as deeply as the Were - so a leader among our people was dispatched, a panther chieftain, to ask the Elven for help.

“Our homes were destroyed by the constant see-saw between armies, as each side sought to claim our homelands. War had consumed all resources as the battles raged for nigh on a century. When at last the fierce and untameable Were could no longer hold out we sued for help - for our survival.”

“It soon became apparent to the Were that the pact we swore, a pact we hoped would ensure peace, made us soldiers. The Elvin had gained a prize; mighty warriors readily enlisted, an army of capable fighters - bound to heed a Sidhe’s beck and call whenever they sought to engage an enemy. Sadly, the Sidhe it seems had many enemies.”

“Under our solemn oath, the Were swore to never rise against the Sidhe. In return the Sidhe would spread protection over our people as a blanket on a cold night.”

“The Were kept the bond, a yoke around our necks, a bond of fealty and loyalty.”

“But as surely as the tide changes so too did the fortunes of war, the dark warlord forged a terrible weapon, a dark blade which sickened the mind and body of a Were.”

“Once touched, it blackened Were hearts - driving our kind mad. No Were in its thrall can hear a Sidhe’s call to bend knee and uphold the pact upon our souls.”

“You might ask, how did the Sidhe save the Were from this dreadful attack, what form did their promised protection take? The very Sidhe queen who with her own blood sealed the Were pact, signed a decree in writ. A writ of denunciation! A single sentence. Death to all Were.”

“Our kinds salvation was genocide, borne at the hands of our comrades in arms. Our kin was slaughtered.”

“Aye, the Sundering rent the world of old to nothing - yet still - We remain!”

“We remain! In shame we remain, we who can barely stand, as our knees quiver seeking the ground, we remain a people condemned! A death sentence hangs over our heads. For when a Sidhe Queen rises to restore her throne - The Were must die. A writ cannot be revoked.”

“Today! We remain! Because a Were’s hunger for life outweighs the call for forfeiture, We remain.”

“But we ask! Is it fair to remain? Remain loyal to a pact which swore to give succour? Loyal to a queen who sought us dead?”

“Are we to remain bonded to death?” summarized Ben, executing an exaggerated bow to the jurors before taking his seat beside an awestruck Lynn.

Whateley Academy

“What makes you think we know Cameron?” claimed a shaken Rachel.

“I only called him Outlook, you provided the answer to your own question,” supplied Phase.

“Do you know where he is?” requested Charlotte.

“My friends and I last saw him a few days before Christmas. There was scuttlebutt about a manhunt for him after we returned from break. No one has seen him since,” explained Phase calmly.

“You didn’t know anything about what happened in Canada?” wondered Tim.

“Nothing substantiated,” mused Phase."I believe the MCO suppressed any information outside Canada, entirely blocking external commentary. So is it true?” requested Phase.

“Which?” replied Tim.

“That mutants in Canada have civil rights, that the MCO has to treat them like real people?” asked Phase in earnest.

“Yes, thanks to Cameron,” gave Rachel.

“And Canada, has it opened its borders taking mutants in as refugees?” continued Phase.

“Yeah, it was a big to-do on the news,” supplied Tim.

“Surprising. And now Outlook’s whereabouts are unknown?” pondered Phase.

“We’re backtracking, trying to find some clues,” answered Rachel.

“Which is what brought you to Whateley I assume?” summarized Phase.

“Whateley wasn’t very nice to Cameron,” announced Charlotte.

“From the reports I’ve read, it seems to be quite the debacle,” granted Phase.

“Your privy to confidential reports?” sought Rachel.

“I am an information broker, would you be willing to make an exchange?” offered Phase.

The Grove

The heir apparent, Nikki Reilly, asked for a brief adjourned so she might collect her thoughts, give her time to consult with her advisor Absinthe - discover what she might know about events pre-sundering.

Lynn hated listening in on the conversation, but Were senses couldn’t help but pick up what was being said and Lynn’s curiosity was killing her, it was her worst personality flaw.

“Do you have any memories from before the sundering?” asked Nikki. “Aung only told me a few stories, I didn’t know anything about the Were’s history.”

“My ancestor Vauldrene had already been banished by that time,” admitted the green haired Sidhe girl. “She had heard tales about the Were’s oath, but didn’t know the circumstances surrounding it,” mused Gwen before adding, “The Were aren’t able to lie, it is compelling evidence that what they said must be true.”

“Which means Aung must have been in dire straights if she had to resort to genocide,” deduced Nikki.

“Her army was being turned against her. Any Were was a liability. Talk about a Kobayashi Maru,” commented Billie Wilson.

“What did Captain Kirk do to beat a no win situation?” asked Absinthe.

“He cheated!” noted Billie.

“I think Aunghadhail did the only thing she could, she removed a few in-order to save the many,” reasoned Nikki, trying to grasp the situation’s implications.

“At what cost?” complained Absinthe. “That decision has had repercussions down through the ages; the Were have had to carry shame and guilt for generations. It’s no wonder they’re asking to be freed.”

“If it’s a blood oath, Aung sacrificed herself by breaking a blood bond in-order to save her kingdom,” admitted Nikki. “But it seems as though the Sundering must have hit before the geis could kill her.”

”But if the Sundering came - before the gies could hit,” wondered Absinthe, “is the blood bond still needing recompense to settle a broken oath?”

“I don’t know if the gies will fall upon me now, but since I’ve been made aware of a broken blood bond I can’t ignore the compulsion. I’m feeling a throbbing on my temples and it’s like an itch in my veins,” voiced a concerned Nikki.

Lynn was taken aback, she hadn’t ever expected that this might become a personal issue to Aunghadhail’s descendant. She hadn’t wanted to bring harm to the girl; no Were could raise a hand against a ruling Sidhe.

“What do we do?” continued Absinthe.

“The only thing I can. Try to be a queen!” decided Nikki.

Standing to address the living forest and resume the hearing, Nikki Reilly wove her hand in a graceful flourish thanking those present for the time granted to confer with her associates. Glancing quickly across the assemblage it irked her that each of the Were present had fallen to knell before her, they where obliged to do such in her presence.

“I would like to express my deepest regrets to my dear friends the Were; it has been too long that they have been burdened, waiting for the court’s return so they might air their grievance. It is dreadfully unfortunate that Aunghadhail herself is not present today. Instead, standing before you I am merely a whisper of the queen that was. “

“I earnestly hope that my voice has enough authority to sever a bond; that my words carry sufficient weight to break the chain. I ask that all attending today to bear witness; how that the Daughter of the Burning Oak, Seventh Queen of the West in the five fold court does hereby release the Were peoples from their oath to us.”

“They are free! Free to walk unfettered, free to stand without shame, free to be people filled with honour and dignity, free - to run down whatever path their heart desires.”

The girl; Nikki Reilly remained standing. Her head bowed as she tried to sense if the pressure and fire within had ebbed. Feeling each beat of her heart she listened to herself, measured her being to see who she was. For all the changes and challenges she had faced since mutating, Nikki Reilly discovered she was at the end of the day - the same person who awoke every morning. So Nikki wondered; when had life become a dream?

Lifting her head Nikki saw that the Were had tentatively begun standing, testing if the bond upon them had fallen, realizing excitedly that they could now rise in the presence of a queen. Fey turned when one of the Were let fly a great howl, joined by others spreading the news.

The forest creature stood and motioned for the gathering’s attention, once the commotion abated it spoke:

“The words heard have rung truth. We are adjourned.”

Nikki turned to rejoin Billie and Absinthe, and it surprised her to come face to face with the black haired girl who had been sitting opposite. Fey hadn’t even seen her move.

“Please accept my people’s thanks.”

“Do I know you? You seem … familiar?”

“Pardon my manners, I am Lynn Franklin. I’m a descendant of the Were who made the oath with the Sidhe. We share blood, I suppose in a way we are sisters.”

“You have the same eyes,” remarked Billie, who had stepped up to give her friend support.

“You’re not mad?” worried Fey.

“How can the Were be mad? For me it feels like I’m taking my first breath on a spring day, it’s so fresh and clean, like the world has just come alive.”

“Oh! That’s just Billie’s shampoo,” joked Absinthe, as she joined in, her comment getting a huff from Tennyo in contrast to everyone else’s smirk.

“I can hear the cries coming from all around us. The Were are full of joy, you have gifted us unfettered life. Personally, I have only happiness towards you and hold no animosity.”

“That is more than I deserve. I am nothing but a burden and a disgrace. What kind of queen does that make me?”

“The type of queen who values each friend, slowly builds trust and respect with each relationship, until one day - she finally feels the confidence inside herself that everyone around her already saw. When that day comes, know that the Were are your friends,” predicted Lynn.

~o~O~o~

The church sat empty mostly due to the late hour, none having sought comfort within its walls nor used the sanctuary for quiet contemplation. It was well and truly empty. The building was constructed of stones and mortar, a contradiction to the brick used for the other buildings of similar aged construct. In fact, at a glance it looked like it belonged in ‘Old England’ rather than in the ‘New World’.

The ends of hand hewn beams used to support the roof stuck out visibly atop the exterior walls. Craftsmen inserted stained glass visages within each of the windows central panes. The churches steeple stood tall above the main building, housing a bell; rung to call the faithful to worship.

To look upon the building the observer was struck with an appearance which spoke of age. A reassurance of something solid and steadfast, a constant reminder to everyone who looked upon it of an unshakeable institution. The space available inside the church was small, but felt cavernous to any who sat upon its wooden bench pews.

The churches emptiness was nothing new, attributable in part to it being poorly attended, a situation falling squarely upon the one giving the sermon.

At first, all that indicated anything was amiss was a degree or two drop in temperature which might have brought on a shiver. Next would be an irrepressible yawn triggered by a change in pressure, but - since when is it considered suspicious to have people yawning in church.

The distortion effect; a small vertical pinwheel in the air rotating clockwise and roughly the size of a volleyball was the first visible sign. A stiff wind commenced, as if a large fan had been turned on, and any loose article such paper was taken up into a swirling vortex. The pinwheel grew as it soon reached six feet across.

Along with the wind came a size-able build-up of static electricity. At first it started small, just enough of a charge to raise the hairs on your arms, then a zap if put into contact with a ground. But as the pinwheel continued to grow, small arcs emanated from the edges creating flashes in the otherwise darkened place.

The intensity of the localized disturbance continued to expand and extend outward, surging like an incoming tide. In reality, it took very little time for the small pinwheel to become engorged to a point where it was barely contained within the church’s walls. A maelstrom was being unleashed, wreaking havoc upon not only the contents, but against the building itself. The wooden benches combined with all other furnishings had already been caught up into the whirlwind, smashing and crashing as if thrust into a blender set on high, leaving only splintered remains caught in the swirling morass.

The pinwheel’s outward push breeched the edifice’s walls, which began to crumble under the pressure. Rocks, beams, and mortar joined into the debris caught in the violent rotation, each collision now rent further destruction breaking away more of the structure culminating in the roof collapsing into the fray.

As if watching a satellite image of a hurricane; in the maelstrom’s centre formed an eye, a calm heart amidst the violent tempest. In an instant eleven bodies were ejected through the eye like unwanted seeds getting spat out from a mouth.

Eleven bodies groaned and wheezed as they lay scattered about in the church’s remains. Each of them panted heavily as they strove to regained their senses, left unmoving in the near frigid air just beyond the reach of the torrent they had escaped from; that rotating mayhem casting an eerie glow in the pitch of night.

The first to recover stood on shaky legs checking for damage to its person. Raising itself over discarded rock, what stood in triumph was a small boy, a child. He looked back over his shoulder at the storm and laughed. It was not a human voice that spoke, but one that sounded like an echo within a cave, a reverberation coming from a twisted and evil mind.

Troy shouted out, “Free! I am finally free!” Turning back to look out over all that the hard earned escape had won he came face to face with Outlook standing only inches away.

“I think not!” stated Outlook as he trust a golden blade into the small boy’s stomach.

Troy lashed out striking Camerons head, knocking Cameron’s glasses off his face to reveal golden eyes shining brightly. Cameron remained stationary, unyielding, as the boy writhed.

Troy flailed wildly trying to extricate himself from the impalement.

Cameron lifted his sword shearing the connection between the physical boy and the intangible wraith that had possessed him, hoisting the speared entity high as its shrieks cut through the night.

“Patti! Close the portal!” shouted Ken as he rushed to aid Troy who had slumped down to the ground clutching his chest. “We don’t want any of those damnable things coming through.”

“I can’t!” she cried, “I don’t know how.”

Cameron cautiously stepped over rock and litter to approach the edge of the morass at the pinwheel’s centre. With a double handed swing of his sword he cast the intangible apparition back into the void.

Oliver moved closer to the panic stricken girl. Struggling over the rocks in the dim light, he cradled her in his arms giving her a hug saying, “I’m sorry!” before he punched her. Patti reeled and dropped limply in his arms.

The portal cascaded in upon itself; the debris that had been held suspended in the swirling mess fell into the collapsing dimensional breach. As normal space returned a hush fell until a final ‘pink’ was heard as it winked out of existence.

Ken’s breath made a cloud around his head as held his hand over the spot where the sword had pierced Troy’s body. He felt no liquid under his hand, but now that the portal’s glow was gone he couldn’t see how bad the wound was. He yelled out, “Cameron! What have you done? Get over here you have to help Troy!”

As Ken looked up to find Cameron, he heard the unmistakable click of a gun chamber being loaded beside his ear.

“Don’t move!”

Mediwhila Village

Lynn’s scream of terror sent a wave of alarm to all within earshot.

Laying beside her on a similar cot had been Ella, who was now on her feet wearing only a nightshirt, but wielding a sword waiting for whatever had so desperately scared the girl, daring whatever it was to come forward out of the darkness.

“Ella, it’s time!”

Kane Hall

Whateley Security had walked the nine unannounced strangers down the schools paths for interrogation. Troy and Patti had been loaded onto stretchers and taken for medical help. All others to be placed into secure lock-up.

Ken was placed into the cell beside Cameron and was near furious at being incarcerated. “What do they think we’re wearing … Halloween costumes?” he said as he looked down at his filthy RCMP uniform, grey dust imbedded into the fabric. His sidearm had been quickly confiscated by the security patrol.

Oliver Jones was the first to be taken for interrogation, likely because he wore a school uniform, although his clothes where little more than tatters. Still, he had been gone for upwards of an hour already.

“I take it you can see again,” was said more as a statement than a question to Cameron, who had seated himself on the cell’s cot. Ken’s speech detailed his uncertainly at why Cameron had stabbed Troy, but Ken’s feelings of uncertainty didn’t outweigh the trust his friendship with Cameron had won.

“Yes, once we left null space I regained sight,” detailed Cameron.

“Null space? Not the Void?”

“A pocket dimension devoid of light and life; where the condemned … rebels have been sent to await judgement.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My being blind is what likely saved your life. Had they seen my eyes - nothing would have stopped them from killing us except Troy.”

“Why did you stab Troy?”

“He was possessed, one of the wraiths, a debased spirit had entered him.”

“They can do that?”

“And more. I’m sorry you had to see that, I couldn’t let it escape. The damage they can do is dreadful … I couldn’t.” Cameron paused as he looked off to into the distance, “Ahh nuts!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Stay here! Cover the windows, keep everyone in the cells as far away from the bars as possible. Tear up a sheet and make blindfolds.”

“What is it?”

“Voodoo wolves,” said Cameron with a cold dread in his voice. “They sent a scouting party.” Cameron dissipated a section of the bars that made up his cell and walked through the hole he’d made, stepping into the hallway.

The security guard saw a freed prisoner in the cell block and ran towards Cameron, a baton held up in preparation to strike, the man froze midstep. “I haven’t time to waste explaining, and you guys haven’t been prone to give a listening ear.” After which Cameron rendered him unconscious - the guard dropped to the ground and slumped against the bars in front of Ken’s cell. “Help him if you can Ken, cover his eyes and get him into a cell.”

Cameron walked out of the holding area. None tried to stop him, not that any had been left conscious to attempt it. Cameron exited Whateley Academies Security office and sealed the door behind him.

Distancing himself from Kane Hall, Cameron walked towards the fortifications the Were had been establishing, a fortification just outside the schools shields. In a blink walking casually beside him was his friend Timothy / Swift sporting a smile like the Cheshire Cat. “Come here often?” he asked.

Gob smacked Cameron stopped, he didn’t have a chance to say, “What,” before he was wrapped in a hug of relief by his friend. Cameron patted his friend on the back saying, “Always glad to see you, but how?”

“Lynn brought us. We’ve been on high alert. What’s the plan?”

“Plan? Plan!” Stammered a flabbergasted Cameron, “What I wouldn’t give for a wheelbarrow and a holocaust cloak.”

“Will you settle for Rachel, Charlotte, Marcus, Roche and R.E.D.? Lynn got word to us to expect you. She and the Were are preparing for battle.”

As they commenced walking, three rabbits scurried out of the undergrowth and blocked them. “Messengers,” instructed Swift.

Not skipping a beat, Outlook directed, “I’ll need to make more black balls and find a way to transport them to the front line.” The rabbits switched to human form so Cameron materialized a stack of heavy boxes for them, more than they could carry. “Let Lynn know we’ll be behind the school’s shields, to prevent mutants from entering the battle.”

Timothy dashed off, but was back in so little time it was like he’d never even been gone. “They’re over here,” he directed.

As Cameron got close, he heard Roche prepping them, “Don’t look at them! They’re as evil as … well, as evil as evil gets. It’ll rot your eyes and brain right out of your skull!”

“Roche is right,” spoke Cameron, disclosing his arrival. He was mauled by Rachel and Charlotte, who in a show of relief smothered him in a combined hug. With a free arm he shook his other friend’s hands. Lastly, R.E.D. took off her heavy duty asbestos reinforced gloves and clasped his hand giving it a firm shake.

“Level six?” asked Cameron.

“Oui,” responded the tall girl, “call me Flambé.”

“Charlotte, you’ve manifested! What are your abilities?”

“I energize others, give them a boost.”

“How much?”

“One or two levels for a half hour, even more with my brother and sister.”

“That’s why Swift is moving faster than normal.” After a second of contemplation, Cameron gathered his friends into a huddle. “Okay, Here’s the plan:

Charlotte, you’re the key - you’ll be boosting everyone. Get comfortable once we’re in place, and hold onto me. I’ll be dumping energy into you.
Marcus, you’ve been practising lullabies I imagine, yes? (an affirmative nod was given). Good! You’ll be keeping everyone at Whateley asleep.
Rachel, link to Marcus - mentally broadcast his singing, we need to keep as many out of the battle as possible. With a boost from Charlotte I’m hoping you’ll be able to reach everyone.
Roche, we need a brick force field to supplement the schools shielding; stay touching Charlotte and take it to the max! Make a wall as long as you can.
Flambé, shoot your fire lightning to disperse onto Roche’s brick field, don’t get boosted too much. Just touch Charlotte in small doses, we don’t want you to go nova.

“What about me?” asked Swift.

“Get another charge, you’ll search for those that aren’t asleep and get them to safety; someplace they can’t see who’s attacking. If they don’t listen - keep em distracted. Oh! And Tim, there will be two girls at Poe, Fey and Tennyo. I doubt they’ll be affected by Rachel and Marcus, send them to us if they’re willing - it's better if they stand with us than against us.”

Tim left in a blink of an eye after briefly touching Charlotte. Cameron then directed his attention back to his teammates. “I want you to know how much I appreciate your being here, I can’t do this on my own! But with all of you together, as a team we can be amazing.”

Cameron spoke with a confidence that bolstered his teams shaky resolve, it also firmed up his own fortitude. “One stop before we get set up, follow me!”

Rachel commented to Marcus, “I don’t recommend singing Rock a-by Baby.”

“Why not?”

“‘If the wind blows, down will fall baby, cradle and all’ are not exactly comforting thoughts considering our situation.”

“Good point. How about Ring Around the Rosy?” countered Marcus.

“That comes from when the plague afflicted Europe. You know: 'they all fall down’ - everyone dies!” corrected Rachel.

“You’ve severely impeded my repertoire,” grumped Marcus.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word,” suggested Charlotte.

“Mary had a little lamb,” recommended Rachel.

“Frere Jacques,” added Flambé.

“All I’ve got is ‘hundred bottles of beer on a wall’ cause I could sure use a drink bout now,” admitted Roche.

There was a combined snerk, followed by more song titles getting tossed out for consideration.

Cameron lead his troop through the Quad, bringing them up to his energy gathering obelisk. The faux sculpture was near pearl white now having gathered copious amounts of energy. Cameron put both hands against the surface and let out a sigh. “Just what I needed,” he said as the collector turned black again.

Cameron remained in contact with the obelisk, while it slowly decreased in overall size. Beside him appeared sacks of boxes filled to the brim with black balls. Soon the obelisk was gone, all the matter used to transform the collector into energy absorbing balls, ammo for the coming battle. The rabbits who had stayed in tow began hauling boxes up to the front.

“Ahhmm,” sounded Rachel as she cleared her throat to get Cameron’s attention. “Outlook! There’s a somebody wanting to speak with you.”

“Please repeat what he says for me,” instructed Outlook.

“Hello Outlook, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” repeated Rachel.

“Mr. Gientz, sorry, things are a little tense just now.”

“Is there a way I might be of some assistance?”

“Can you help point Swift to those who awaken, help get them to safety?” requested Cameron, “maybe into the tunnels?”

“Do you believe the school will get overrun?” worried Louis via Rachel. 
“I promise you! My friends and I are going to do everything we can to keep this school out of danger.”

“The school is not without defences,” claimed Foob.

“This is the Were’s fight! A proclamation of emancipation and independence!” clarified Outlook. “But the dark want nothing more than to draw mutants into battle. That’s why they have chosen to attack now. Here!” summarized Cameron. “If mutants engage it’s the start of a conflict that will engulf the world.”

“Then we keep them apart,” rallied Louis. Rachel was quiet for a brief time before saying, “He gave me some pointers on communicating psychically over a long range to a group.”

Once again Cameron surveyed the fortifications Ella had laid out. She had made long tapering frontages to act like funnels, then placed Were behind the lines to make use of an increased target area to pelt the enemy with energy absorbing balls.

The last of the Voodoo Wolf scouts had been captured and tamed by the Were. Taking the opportunity, breaking into a run, Cameron brought his team near to Whateley Academy’s shield wall, placing them so only a few feet separated his small group from the last line of Were defenders situated just outside the shield.

Cameron shouted a greeting to their allies stationed mere feet away. A cheer arose from the ranks proclaiming the arrival of the Golden Eyed Man. Cameron positioned each person in his intimate group so only he, Roche, and Flambé faced the enemy. Outlook manifested face masks that completely covered the eyes and distributed them.

Already portals started forming in a string within an arrow’s strike. Cameron counted six and cautioned his comrades again, “Don’t look!” at which they donned the protective eye covers and mustered all the courage they could find.

The first of the open portals began spewing out black covered attackers after a Mage had stepped through establishing the connection. After each Mage then raced the dark army, the Mage staying at the portals mouth keeping it open.

Ella’s plan was working, the funnels used Camerons special flashlights to force the dark to skirt around the Were fortifications. The created zones maximized the Were’s ability to assail the dark attackers, and the energy absorbing black balls got launched by slingshot or thrown from behind the defensive position.

The invaders incessant rush with innumerable soldiers overcame the centre most defensive position, forcing those Were to scramble and quickly change tactics to fighting hand to hand. Now the dark’s screeching was meet with snarls of animalistic engagement.

Those making up the Were forces each wore many of the black balls woven into garments or hung on jewelry. It was designed to account for when a Were received multiple injuries - preventing the dark ooze from assimilating them.

The assailing army was hemmed in. Behind the row of portals the Were had rushed in wielding flashlights preventing the Voodoo Wolves from escaping the organized battle zone. To challenge the oncoming dark soldiers, the Were in formation, fought back by jabbing, poking, and punching. Each thrust made by the Were brought more of the black balls Cameron had provided into contact with the foe, sucking the hate out of them.

The bodies of partially de-contaminated Were began to amass, as those having the dark energy siphoned off writhed in agony, creating pockets on the battlefield of no-mans-land occupied by those unable to engage and hindering further advancement of the still dark encapsulated soldiers. The dark swarm moved around those blocking their assault, the movement seeking any means possible to get to the school.

Cameron watched with fascination as the Were deployed something new. They fed his black balls into modified paintball guns, resulting in a rapid fire weapon that launched deep into the advancing army, weakening the inside surge and taking away the ability to reinforce the frontline.

Still more of the corrupted disgorged from the portals, their numbers spreading out as the two sides engaged in a ground war. The Were’s defences had been completely overrun in the middle, those Were fighters no longer able to hold back the onslaught from that position. The dark ones now slammed themselves against the schools shield and the barrier Cameron’s team made.

But the wall held! The battle raged mere feet away, but the singing and lightening blasts didn’t falter.

Checking on Roche, Cameron noted he exuded power far in excess of what was normal for him. The boost he was getting from Charlotte had kicked him up so much it looked as though he wasn’t even struggling to reinforce his brick field wall. The projected wall resisted and confounded the attackers, the dark enemy was mounted three high in their efforts to breach the barrier.

Flambé’s blasts sent red tendrils that flared out along the brick field. As she alternated the direction she blasted the smell of scorched flesh hung heavy and the screams of pain rang loud as any who touched the barrier burned violently. The black sizzled and the attackers turned away to get distance from Cameron when he cast his Golden Eye glow onto them only for those attempting retreat to be pushed forward again by the mad rush behind them.

Cameron internalized, watching his battery’s gauge drop in slow increments as he felt Charlotte taking energy to feed it to the others. Cameron materialized more black balls using up the last material he had and the rabbit Were moved them off to restock the defenders. To Cameron’s surprise, on each of the rabbit’s return trips they deposited boxes full of white balls. Cameron drove a hand into them and drew the energy out to recharge his battery, the turn around of energy balls restocked the frontline with more of the black balls.

Feeling a touch more steady, Cameron scanned the school. Locating Swift, he was confronting a few of the students unaffected by Rachel’s psychic persuasion and Marcus’ sweet melodies. These having awoken due to the sound of a nearby battle. Swift, helped by Foob, was directing everyone into safe haven, moving them down into the vast network of tunnels underneath Whateley. He was pleased to see Caitlin Bardue help shepherd the students and motivate a few teachers as well.

In his scan, Cameron spotted two figures walking towards him, energy patterns he recognized: Fey and Tennyo. He waited for them to draw close before saying, “Billie, Nikki, If you’d considering helping us, I must ask that you not kill anyone. The enemy is made up of corrupted mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. This is a battle of attrition as the Were’s claim independence.”

“What do you need?” asked Nikki Reilly.

“Could you construct a barrier to press them into a more limited front, keep the enemy held against the Were?”

“What about me?” requested Billie Wilson.

“Billie, we could use an aerial position, find one of the rifles the Were are using and shoot from above, take a box of black balls with you.”

Nikki began to weave a complex working and Cameron refused to ingest the source of energy she spun.

He turned to see Ella handing over her paintball rifle to Billie from her elevated position, to then pull a slingshot from her back pocket, after which Ella continuing to fire into the horde as she called out commands. At a distance removed from battle he spotted Lynn flanked by Eloise and Ben - generals issuing orders to the Were army. Further, he saw Allan stuffing black balls into a basket to then be launched by a small catapult into the enemies’ ranks.

The influence of Nikki’s barrier worked amazingly well pushing the right flank back into the melee’s middle. Seeing the assistance given - both Lynn and Ella directed the Were to redouble their efforts on the left flank.

Cameron watched Granny and others rushing into the battle’s edge, dragging the bone weary reclaimed Were who had been emptied of the dark - taking them away to receive medical attention. Cameron grabbed a box of the white balls, reshaped them into small pill sized pellets, telling the nearest Rabbit to get them to Granny and have her feed it to the recovered Were. Only a few pieces each would do the trick.

Yet still more of the corrupted exited the portals. The cry of battle intermixed with cries of agony.

The ground was strewn with fallen Were caught in the throes between dark and light. Those already freed of corruption struggled to get distance, crawling between dark legs and over those who could only lay in exhaustion due to so little life remaining in them.

The fighters could hardly move being so deeply mired in bodies strewn about, making poor footing for those who could still stand. The once black balls, now intermingled by milky white - having absorbed away energy, hung onto those splayed over the ground.

Mounds of flesh piled up high as one body fell onto another. Still each ball pulled out more of the dark until all that remained was a panting - spent human form. Each minute the battle raged more of the corruption was drawn off and the dark forces numbers decreased as the corrupted dark army wavered under the drain.

Cameron checked on Fey, she had taken a stance upon one knee so she could put all effort into her barrier, her head bowed as she concentrated deeply on her magic. Movement drew Camerons attention to a group of rabbits - at least twenty of them scurried frantically through Fey’s barrier to assist fallen foe now turned friend.

He watching the rabbits perform acts of unassuming bravery. A rabbit would drop a couple of the white pills into a distressed mouth, then bound off to another deserving re-established Were casualty. Behind these first aid providers more of the rabbits assumed human form when near a cleansed Were, dragging out that restored Were to protection behind the magic defensive line.

Looking up at Billie, Cameron saw that the rifle had stopped working, having run out of propellant. Instead, she had resorted to throwing the balls. Grabbing handfuls of balls at a time she targeted the snarling screeching dark ones below her. Tennyo floated effortlessly above them, confounding any effort by the dark to reach her, being just above the height of any jump they could muster.

Billie moved to hover over top of the largest portal, the large opening still bringing forth more combatants. Tennyo just scattered the black balls, letting them drop from above on top of the exiting dark enveloped enemy.

Billie shook the last of the balls out of the box, then looked about to see her best course of action. She saw the portal closest to Fey’s magic barrier wink out of existence. Since no more of the dark ones exited, it closed.

The Mage standing beside the second most portal of the flank nearest Fey's barrier was frantically motioning the stragglers to hurry as he moved to enter the portal himself. Billie swooped down grabbing his robe at the nap of his neck and threw him away from the portal’s mouth. The startled Mage stood back up in a fury, only to be quickly confronted by two rabbits that dropped him back to the ground with well place kicks. One of the rabbits taking on human form subdued the Mage by giving him a solid thump atop his head.

Billie took to the air and flew over the battle beneath her. Passing over top the portals still disgorging dark foe she dived at the portal that was no longer full of new arrivals and tackled a Mage who was about to depart. The Mage scurried across the ground to get distance and as he stood he withdrew a sword from the folds of his robe.

Billie formed a blade, and the sheer amount of energy of which it was constituted crackled in the air. The dark in proximity shied away in fear since the light the sword cast hurt their eyes. The Mage sneered as he dived at Billie attempting to skewer her. Billie side-stepped the attack and with a skilled strike severed the Mages blade at the handle.

The Mage looked at his now useless weapon. Throwing the handle at Billie as he ran past her striving to escape into the portal, he was intercepted by a large black cat knocking him to the ground pinning him down, and was restrained underneath the panthers fangs - clasped tight around his throat pressing on his jugular.

The mage yielded defeat and closed the portal he had been holding.

Cameron checked on his team - his friends, he could tell they were tired; shoulders not held as high as before, breathing more rapid and strained. Marcus had been circling through repeated refrains, but keeping the worry out of his voice - so none would feel anxiety as they slept. Rachel was concentrating deeply, the sound of battle completely ignored as she only heard Marcus and sent that out in her thoughts.

Flambé was rotating her blasts to spread coverage over the greatest area, not seeing where to shoot she went off the sounds. If a blast to one spot generated more noise then she would fire upon it more often. Roche was at the brink, the point where exhaustion couldn’t be denied, but still his resolve was to press on and he huffed in his effort to keep at it.

Looking back to the battle lines, Cameron cycled his sight to focus upon a blur. His breath caught, Ben in bear form joined by an extremely large cat had made a rush into a cluster of still standing dark. The effect of the rush looked much like a bowling ball sending pins flying upon contact.

The large cat was fearsome, it was huge. Its’ claws were at least four inches long and fangs twice that size. As it ran it tore up the ground nothing could stand up to its advance. With swipes of a giant fore-paw it cleared a path.

The bear and massive cat ran towards one of the remaining open portals. At the portal’s mouth stood two intimidating warriors; to call them human would be an injustice - they only shared the shape. Each warrior easily towered at eight feet tall, muscles bulging under thick plates of armour held in place by heavy thick leather straps. Snouts of pigs and tusks of boar identified them as not being Were. The clubs the warriors carried weighed more than Cameron.

Ben dove headlong into the lead warrior slashing at exposed flesh and biting the arm holding the club. The two rolled on the ground embraced in a deadly exchange of fist and claw.

The big cat raked the second warrior, its’ claws shredding skin and leather. The warrior let fly a primal scream as it dropped to its knees in pain out of its left hand dropped a small metal sphere which rolled a few feet until it came to rest against a downed body. The big cat tore into the warrior pig which squealed as it took more damage.

The fight in front of the portal continued in earnest, but Camerons attention was drawn to the sphere. He looked at it intently and gasped, “Dear God. NO!” as he broke away from his team and moved forward stopping just shy of hitting the wall.

Somehow Billie heard his cry amidst the din, and with a high vault she landed over by the metal sphere. Picking it up, she then rose above the fight to come up beside the force field barrier near Cameron.

“What is it?” asked a curious Billie.

“It’s a bomb. It’s … anti-matter,” gasped a horrified Cameron as he looked into the sphere.

“Where did they get anti-matter?” boggled Tennyo.

“Your blood Billie, it’s made from your blood,” said Cameron as he looked in-between the sphere and the girl.

The look of shock on Billie’s face spoke of a betrayal that cut her to the core. “Can you disarm it?”

“It’s anti-matter. It’s starting to mix with matter - I don’t know what to do with it! When it goes off the blast could crack the earth like an egg.”

Billie looked at Cameron, his panic evident; it told her there was little time or hope. The girl gave him a small smile with tightly pursed lips which widened until the tips of little fangs showed. Billie drew down into a crouch clutching the bomb in the crook of her arm as if she was preparing to jump up, and vanished.

Cameron spun wildly, his hands grabbing at his hair as he yelled, “Billie - NO!”

One of the messenger rabbits touched Camerons shoulder and pointed him skyward. Cameron looked up, freezing for a moment before dropping to his knees and began sobbing, watching the expanding energy burst - an explosion far beyond the earths atmosphere, out into the cold reaches of space.

“Billie!” said Cameron as he fell back facing the stars, the exhaustion that he had been denying; an exhaustion of mind, body, and heart caught up to him. Cameron closed his eyes.

~o~O~o~

“Is he awake?” was asked by a distant hushed voice.

“Not yet,” came as a reply. Cameron recognized Ken’s voice through the haze he wasn’t ready to step through.

“Maybe we should go in there and wake him?”

“I doubt that cat would let you get within ten feet of him without tearing your arm off.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll come back later,” relented the voice.

Cameron couldn’t help but smile, Lynn was here … now, if he just knew where here was. The haze began to dissipate, burning off like a morning fog. He groaned as he felt the stiffness in his limbs. Beside him, he could feel the pad of feet walking up to his face. The prickly bristle of a feline tongue was drawn across his cheek.

Cameron’s breath picked up the pace and blood began moving with a little more gusto. He opened his eyes.

Butted up against his face were two cat eyes - green as an ocean but shining like glass, eyes that looked intently into his own, the golden light reflecting off her irises. “Hi Lynn,” remarked Cameron, as he reached up to start petting a midnight black furred back, the cat began to purr with a deep rumble as it stretched into each stroke.

Once Cameron had gotten a little bit more coherent, he checked his surroundings. In jail again! Must be at Whateley!

Ken was seated on a chair in the hall just outside the cell. At least the situation had improved in some measure.

Cameron made the effort to sit up, at which Lynn jumped down off the cot and ran out between the bars. Cameron watched as she stealthily left the building, not even drawing a glance from the guards.

Ken called over in a soft voice, “How you doing Cameron?”

“Did anyone get the number of that bus? It must have run me over at least half dozen times.”

“Don’t kid yourself … it was only twice!” chuckled Ken, the levity making Cameron join in - only to elicit another groan from the boy. “As it happens, each of us who came out of Null Space needed to pass out, something about resetting ourselves after returning to normal time and space.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any better, my friends needed me.”

“Your friends have been worried sick about you.”

Cameron let out a sigh of relief. “How?” was all his thoughts would let him latch upon.

“After you separated from the group, it seems they had just enough juice left to give the Were time to subdue any stragglers. However Roche had to be carried to the hospital - Flambé has stayed by his side. He’s awake now and stable. Marcus and the kids are under house arrest at their lodgings.”

“How long?”

“12 hours, give or take.”

“What happens next?”

“Well, a representative of the schools Canadian Club was just here to see you. The Security Chief wants to hear your side of the story, and the Headmistress was ranting about reckless endangerment of her school and that heads should roll.”

“Ahhh, Whateley Academy, where no good deed goes unpunished.” sighed a resigned Cameron dropping his head and giving it a shake. “They let you out though?”

“Seems they don’t want to create an incident by holding a police officer.”

“But they made an exception in my case?”

“To be fair, you are a rather exceptional case.”

“How’s Troy?”

“Funny you should mention it, his name’s actually Timmy. He’s been full of questions now that the spirit is gone. Thankfully he didn’t sustain any injuries from your pigsticker.” Cameron and Ken shared a look and Cameron nodded his thanks. “Care to explain this thing you have about helping every Tim, Dick and Harry?”

“You know how it is, ‘Tim and unforeseen circumstances’.”

“I suppose it’s true, ‘Tim waits for no man’.”

“How about, ‘no Tim like the present’.”

“Sure, but, ‘Tim after Tim’?” snickered Ken

“‘Oh! Would you look at the Tim’!” chortled Cameron. The boy took a deep breath and looked over at Ken, “So! What do you think, should we leave?”

“I’ll watch your back, whatever you decide.”

Cameron stood and straightened out his uniform, he stepped over to grab the cells bars and the metal instantaneously turning to powder. Cameron walked through the opening and crossed the narrow hall to enter the cell which was against the outside wall. Placing his hand upon the wall, Cameron dispersed the matter it was comprised of, leaving a gapping hole, a void that the two walked through.

Cameron stopped after a couple steps, “I can’t, I just can’t,” and restored the wall.

Before Cameron could resume his escape, Lynn joined up with them, Cameron gave her a bright smile but she hung back timidly as the trio commenced walking along the pathway between Kane and Dunn Halls.

The main entrance road was just a short distance ahead, but the path was suddenly blocked when two young girls alighted, the smaller having been carried by the other. The girl in front wore cargo pants and a multi pocketed vest, her hands held aggressively on her hips. Outlook recognized J Central immediately. Behind her was her ‘sister’ Jinn wrapped up in a long hooded cloak.

“Where’s Billie?” demanded Jade.

“I don’t know,” admitted Cameron. “But I believe she’s alright - it’s just that I haven’t any way to support my feeling.”

“Okay,” relented Jade, her hurt evident in those big doe eyes followed by her relaxing her stance. Both of her stepped aside to let Cameron and crew pass.

“For such a small package, you sure have a big heart. I guess that’s why there’s so many of you,” commented Cameron when he walked nearer to Jade.

“Your not going to stick around?” questioned a hopeful Jade.

“I can’t stay here,” acknowledged Cameron.

“Toni’s gonna miss you,” dejectedly said Jade with a sniffle.

“Take care of your teammates Jade; please say goodbye for me.”

“I will.” squeaked Jade as she rushed up to him, gripping him in a squeeze. Then she ran off before anyone could accuse her of crying.

“If I had a sister, I’d pick her,” confided Cameron, as the trio resumed walking.

In a shy voice Lynn spoke asking, “So … you like Billie Wilson?”

Cameron stuttered in his step as he exhaled a deep sigh before turning to face Lynn. “Billie’s humanity is indomitable, I consider it a privilege to call her a friend. That … and she’s a fantastic dancer.”

“I like to dance,” perked up Lynn.

“Then it’s a date,” said Cameron smiling sheepishly at Lynn - the young man offering his arm, to which she slid her arm into the invited crook. Arm in arm they walked together down the gravel road. “So! During the battle there was this HUGE cat, it had these massive claws and fangs close to a foot long.”

“I don’t like to show my Sabretooth panther form, it’s kinda …”

“Formidable?”

“Scary! The first time I transformed into it my Dad freaked.”

“For ‘special occasions’ only then?”

“I felt the situation warranted it.”

“I’m sorry about not seeing the battle all the way through.”

“Don’t be! You dropping in a heap drove the Were wild and they steamrolled over any resistance left. Your condition also gave me an excuse to slip away from the Mediwhila village without creating a fuss.”

“You didn’t want to celebrate with them?”

“It was too uncomfortable. I was being maneuvered to become a chieftain - or puppet. I said the Panteress needed to be at the Golden Eyed Man’s side, and they couldn’t refute my claim. Besides, I’ve been an outcast all my life, it - it suits me.”

“What about Ella?”

“Ella found her dad and is staying close, and Allan is staying close to Ella. They said they would catch up to us later.”

As they reached the parking lot for the school’s guest cottage, waiting for them was Flambé, Rachel, Charlotte and Timothy.

“How did you guys know to find us?”

Lynn gave an endearing giggle, “You still even act surprised.”

“Marcus took Roche up to the gate in the van, we decided to join you,” informed Rachel.

The grouped talked excitedly as they walked along the gravel road, swapping stories of daring ado - deeds exaggerated in retelling, but still deeds no one but those who stood within the heat of battle would believe.

Nearing Whateley Academy’s closed gates, two figures prevented the van’s passage. Chief Delarose loomed large in his security uniform. Beside him was a second security officer Cameron recognized as officer McTavish, and brandished a smile for the man.

Walking around the stopped van, only Cameron and Ken approached the security detail, halting a few feet distant to not appear a threat to the men.

Chief Delarose directed McTavish over to the guardhouse where he picked up a package. Approaching Ken he said, “Officer Tallman, here be yer revolver an service belt,” as he handed them to Ken. “Cameron, I be sorry ta see yah go lad, I owe ye a debt - but can only offer my gratitude in payment.“

“It’s enough Ian. Thank you for having my back,” gifted Cameron as he shook the man’s hand. McTavish returned into the guardhouse to resume his post.

“Seargent Burke, I regret not being able to garner your account of events,” Delarose’s deep voice boomed as he spoke.

“No disrespect is meant to you Chief. It is improper for me to be here and I must take my leave.”

“These are less than idyllic circumstances aren’t they. But I believe I owe you an apology, and also my thanks for saving this school … What is it? Three times now?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I should have been.”

“You’re a good man Chief, may you find all the happiness you look for,” offered Cameron along with his hand. The Chiefs grip was firm and solid, a man’s handshake, it was an honour to be treated as an equal. “If you can drop the school’s shields for a second, I’ll be out of your hair.”

The nod of Delarose’s consent had Cameron step back to avoid the swing of the gates, and Outlook then came up to the edge of the force field which surrounds Whateley Academy. McTavish was working a control panel when an angry voice called out:

“Don’t you dare take another step!”

Cameron turned towards the voice, as it came from several meters above him. Floating in the air was Lady Astarte glaring at him, a scowl on her lips. She wore a business suit rather than hero costume, but her hair waved in the breeze giving the same effect as if wearing a cape.

“I demand an explanation!” she said with enough force that was undoubtedly done to elicit a recoil in fear.

“I don’t believe this to be a good time or place for us to speak,” replied Cameron calmly.

“A good time?” scoffed the heroine. “You fought a war on my school’s door step! You incapacitated us … left us defenceless! You endangered my students! Without giving me … us - so much as a howdy-do.”

“That the Were chose to leave you out of their affairs, that is something to take up with them,” addressed Cameron to her concern. “I had no forewarning, and certainly had no intent of returning here. Besides, as I understand it; it’s the Were’s land, they can do with it as they see fit.”

“How very convenient for you! I haven’t been able to contact Eloise Donner to get an explanation as to why my children were put in harms way.”

“I and my friends did everything imaginable to protect your school,” Cameron’s gesture included all his associates waiting by the van. “We prevented the battle from escalating; kept this school from being drawn into the fight, we kept your students safe.”

“How dare you! I should have been warned, been included and consulted, not just steamrolled over. You brought a war to my house!”

“You can’t blame me for your making this school a target of hostility. You’ve been indoctrinating your ‘oh so precious’ students into becoming warriors, combatants groomed for war - a war which will only end in total annihilation. I have given them … you - a reprieve; it may only be a stay of a month - maybe a year, perhaps more. Time, if used wisely, will mean people don’t have to die futilely as cannon fodder.”

“What gives you the right?”

“You don’t get it do you? You’re a pawn! Everyone is using you - you’ve been manipulated from the get-go into giving them exactly what they desire.”

“I’m this schools headmistress, I deserve the truth! I expect answers.”

“So, here you are, threatening me! Again! Showing off with a grandiose display of power to justify your authority and unquestionable superiority. What! Do you expect me to quake in my boots? Should I fall at your feet begging for mercy? I’ve got news for you, I’m not afraid - not of you!”

“You should be - if you had any sense.”

“If the worst you’ve got is killing me - have at it! You and yours tried that already - it didn’t stop me before - it won’t stop me now. Just remember, I’ve got witnesses,” said Cameron as he pointed Mrs. Carson’s attention to those beside the van.

“You insolent, arrogant little …”

“Careful! What you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“What unmitigated gall dragging me to court, you contemptible wretch.”

“Ah! You’ve exposed yourself; you believe it’s simply a matter of might makes right! You realize that ideology just makes you a bully!”

“That’s preposterous! I adhere to a code of conduct.”

“I would love to hear more about this code of yours. Please, explain to me how taking Tennyo’s blood and letting it be used to make an anti-matter bomb is justifiable? I suspect poor Billie is trying to come to grips with your betrayal right now.”

“I cannot be held responsible for that.”

“You’ve already stated you are this school’s headmistress! The lives of these students have been entrusted into your hands. Ergo, what happens under your roof is your responsibility.”

“But you felt entirely justified in endangering my students by bringing a war here.”

“The likelihood that Whateley would become a battlefield was sealed the day this school decided to provide shelter and give succour to wicked spirit forces.”

“We did no such thing.”

“Patricia Conner made a portal by following the path of a sustenance conduit. It ended - here!”

“You destroyed a church!”

“Collateral damage, if you want holy ground - don’t do unholy things there … unless of course you worship those savages.”

“Do you put yourself above the law?”

“Certainly not! Although there are times when it’s necessary to obey the rulings of a higher court rather than those of a lower body. It is unfortunate that you have neglected to give consideration that someone might be stronger than you. Someone you have to answer to.”

“Ha! As if you have could possibly best me.”

“I’m not talking about myself. You seem to picture the world as if it’s black and white, good or evil. It may come as shock, but it’s all a game, a revolving match that has been played over and over resulting in both sides cheating and taking advantage of the rules to win. To put it simply: this school is in violation of the rules, if left unchecked you’re going to push the world to total destruction.”

“So what? You consider yourself an umpire?”

“No! I’m only a spy. I was sent to find out what Whateley Academy is up to. But I should like to know why is it you favour a course which is contrary to humans. Do you want to see yourselves subjugated or eradicated?”

“I teach my students to survive and thrive in a world that hates them.”

“Sadly you’re leading them down the road of hatred, a path which only ends with them being slaves to their passion and a dead heart.”

“I cannot believe that Canada is the world’s watchdog.”

“Canada, like every nation and people, has a vested interest in tomorrow. But no, Canada didn’t send me, it only gave me a useful cover.”

“Who sent you?”

“If we are to understand each other, speak the same language if you will, I must ask your indulgence; during an age long forgotten violence brought that world to the very brink of annihilation. Two sides waged a prolonged war, let’s call one side white - headed by an order of courts ruled by five queens. The other fronted by a warlord - this one we’ll call black. That war’s viciousness was only surpassed by its destructiveness, battles raging over centuries. That event necessitated unleashing the Cleansing, which removed all combatants leaving the Earth free from white and black influences.”

“The Sundering, you’re speaking of the Sundering.”

“I know it only as the Cleansing, since it removed a malignant blight. Once cleansed the Earth was returned to its rightful inhabitants, humans, and an edict was passed forbidding interference from outsiders. So, with whom do you associate bringing about the … Sundering?”

“The Bastard!” reeled Lady Astarte.

“A rather derogatory name, no doubt coined due to his claiming no parentage, used I suspect by his defectors, angered from having their taint wiped away. If that is how you know him - so be it.”

“Your opinion of Whateley is unfair, you have a bias against us.”

“I’m only an observer, sent to expose what is hidden. But let’s explore your claim. Tell me, why did you reject my peace offering?

“What peace offering?”

“After I was attacked and killed, even though innocent blood was shed and cried out for equivalent restitution. I made a gesture of goodwill - offered an olive branch, granted a stay of justice. In return I was treated like a slave. What had you hoped to achieve from such?”

“It was a mistake!”

“Hmm, interesting. Who made the mistake? Me for offering kindness, or you for offering insult?”

“I didn’t know that you were in my office.”

“Your excuse is that if you had known who I was, you would have acted differently?”

“I thought you were someone else! I heard someone else in my office.”

“Herein lies the problem, I was the one in your office! I am not at fault for you leaving yourself open to manipulation by wicked spirits, harnessed like a mule to follow direction. That you can’t see it only means you’ve come to accept the blinders put on you.”

“But … it was a mistake.”

“Then I hope you can appreciate that the court case against you is not a mistake.”

“You insufferable little jerk.”

“One thing this school taught me was to use the tools available to get the job done. Blame yourself for getting that lesson across. However, what I have seen cannot be unseen: the attitude you install into people, how they act and what they do with the tools provided, these are added onto each persons account. All are judged by how they use free will.”

“You’re deluded.”

“Ah! And now it begins, if you don’t like the message - discredit the messenger, because there’s no possible way you could be wrong.”

“I believe with all my heart that I have not actively taken any side, I only strive to give these children an example of fairness and objectivity. Whateley Academy does not lean too or lend itself to outside influence. My students are forced by society to protect themselves, so we teach them to stay alive.”

“You consider yourself neutral - yet you align yourself with rebels. You Nuture and protect those who’s interference had already been Cleansed. Aiding and abetting sprits cut off from life for their crimes - spirits who now take up hiding within those enticed by mystic powers and fame - people blinded by the desire to become gods among men.”

“Whateley welcomes all.”

“I’ve been the recipient of your so-called-welcome, it tasted terrible.”

“I told you, it was a mistake.”

“Then decide for yourself what defence to make, was it a mistake of ignorance, incompetence, indifference, or arrogance. I’m sure the years of legal debate you're facing shall give you time enough to figure it out.” Cameron looked up at the woman, she was unyielding in her conviction as demonstrated through her posture. “I wish to leave now, is it your intent to bar the way?”

“I can’t just let you leave! You're a threat to society.”

“Says you! Everyone who walks out these gates is a threat to society. You make sure of that.”

“You need professional help.”

“Who do you suggest? A social worker, psychiatrist, guidance counsellor? Each one of those professionals has already given me a clean bill of health. The only help I need is to get away from this place … and a good meal, I could really go for a good meal.”

“I can get a chef to prepare something.”

“Thank you, No! I’m going. However, if any from my group wish to stay, I will not prevent it. It is after all, their choice on how to live their life.”

Focus turned to the group standing near to the rented van, Each of them had been deeply engrossed in following the argument unfolding between Cameron and Mrs. Carson, but stayed out of the firing line. By presenting to all of them an opportunity to declare their intention, none wanted to be the first to commit, so they began a sharing of glances between them.

Charlotte broke the stalemate by stating, “I wanna to go home.”

Rachel gave her little sister a comforting hug, nodding her assent, saying, “Not interested.”

Timothy zipped across the short distance to stand behind his sisters and claimed, “No thank you.” The trio of siblings began to climb into the van to join Roche and Marcus inside the vehicle.

Flambé removed the hood from off her head and looked directly up at the headmistress without her sunglasses which normally hid the intense gaze, “I think not,” followed by her also entering the van’s side door.

Mrs. Carson directed her attention to Lynn, giving her a pleading look.

“I have no future at Whateley,” informed the Were as she took the couple steps forward to stand beside Cameron.

Mrs. Carson shook her head dejectedly but landed with practiced ease on the ground beside Chief Delarose. She gave a nod to McTavish who pressed the button his hand had been hovering over. McTavish flagged Roche once the force field was down. The van slowly edged forward until it passed through the gate and beyond the school’s shield.

Cameron and Lynn, followed by Ken, walked the distance though Whateley Academy’s entrance, with Cameron keeping an eye on the shielding. Once beyond the confinement the force field had presented he turned and gave a farewell wave.

After all had grabbed seats and buckled in the van drove out onto the main road that headed off down the tree lined road, the route taking them back toward Dunwich.

Elizabeth Carson watched the van until it was obscured by distance. “He’s a lunatic! He’s going to get all those poor kids killed,” she said solemnly as a solitary tear fell from her eye.

The End.