March 10, 2008.
Arkham Research Centre (ARC)

Ken Tallman sat in the waiting room reading a copy of Field and Stream, he checked the cover: September 1988. “Oh well, at least it’s current,” he mumbled. He’d already undergone a so called ‘interview’, which proved to be an intense mentally exhausting session with an ARC Psychiatrist and Psychic.

Marcus Johnson was still being interviewed. Roche had been taken into another room at the same time as Ken, he must be into at least his second hour so far. Ken was still trying to sort through the bizarre questioning he had undergone for what he estimated to be an hour. He was asked many times, and in different ways about his association with Cameron.

This whole intervention business, they claimed, was orchestrated to free them from any mental conditioning, as if Cameron was making a cult or something. “They insisted Outlook had done something to control him.”

“Did I look into his eyes?” That was the question they asked that brought the whole picture into focus. They wanted to determine if I had been brainwashed. The mental probing left Ken’s brain itching, he was irritable because he couldn’t figure out how to scratch it.

If Ken was honest with himself, it was good to have his decisions and actions scrutinized. How else could he be sure he hadn’t been compromised; how does anyone know if they are under someone else’s influence? But Cameron? Not Cameron! He was a decent kid.

Ken hated to admit it, but he wondered if maybe he had been the victim of manipulation. For as long as Ken had been sitting there reading the magazine he hadn’t even turned a page yet, and the itch was still annoying him. He just wasn’t sure anymore. Trust psychics and psychologists to turn your brain inside out leaving you scratching your head.

The door to an interview room opened and Roche stepped out followed by two doctor types in white jackets. Best Ken could tell, everyone who had been detained had been stripped and put into these… pyjama’s might be the best description. They were better than those wretched hospital gowns that left your butt flapping in the breeze, but not by much.

Roche gave Ken a nod of acknowledgement and came to join him. Roche stopped to peruse the magazine selection on the table and had just selected a copy of Better Homes and Gardens when a voice broadcast through the building “Red Alert, containment breach!”

One of the doctors proclaimed, “Gentlemen, remain calm. ARC personnel have been trained to handle any emergency, just sit tight and this will be over soon.”

This could go sideways on so many levels observed Ken. He’d mentioned as much during his interview, cautioning them about exceedingly powerful individuals … such as these kids who warranted special attention. Despite his concerns, ARC had kept them separated: putting each of them into isolation for observation. A potential recipe for disaster on a grand scale for a group of kids who relied on each other.

Ken’s time with Cameron and his further assignment in the States; to learn about the dynamics of super groups, had taught Ken much about the need to handle the ‘super’ individuals with delicacy and diplomacy. Simply because hurt on that level had a boomerang effect.

~o~O~o~

“Tapioca? You’re eating Tapioca at a time like this?” shouted Timothy, standing in the doorway in disbelief!

“I didn’t know there was a bad time for good Tapioca,” puzzled Lynn, as she scooped more onto her spoon.

“Would you say it has honey, or did they use caramel?” asked R.E.D, ignoring anything which would distract from her delight.

“It has real vanilla, and it tastes soo yummy,” Lynn said around a spoonful.

“Perhaps one shouldn't imbibe Tapioca for breakfast?” questioned R.E.D. sizing up her now empty dish, the buffet table, and the newly arrived threesome who might have designs upon the remaining contents of the highly prized dessert bowl.

“But it’s after lunch time,” assured Lynn.

“Oui, but our friends here are just getting up now,” reminded R.E.D.

“Yah, who could sleep through all that racket out in the hall … so what did you guys do?” pondered Lynn, as her attention diverted to the three newcomers.

“We escaped, they had us locked in yucky separate rooms, so we busted out,” informed Charlotte.

“Us too, but was it really necessary to put this place on high alert?” quizzed Lynn. “We’ve been waiting here for an hour without setting off any alarms.”

“We weren’t willing to sit around doing nothing!” blustered Timothy.

“We weren’t doing nothing - we had lunch,” R.E.D. calmly stated.

“It’s okay, you three are here now," conceded Lynn. “It just messes with the timetable somewhat.” As if reviewing a mental checklist, Lynn began handing out assignments; “Swift; please ensure the kitchen is cleared out of people. Everyone is supposed to be on a break, but we best make certain nobody’s left in there. Take anyone you find into the hallway and release them. Flambé, can you secure all the doors into this area by welding them shut?”

“We don’t want hostages?” wondered Timothy.

“We are the hostages - remember? They kidnapped us!” established Lynn, getting nods of agreement.

“So what’s the plan?” Asked a curious Excelle, worried she’d missed something important.

“It’s simple, we hold out here and wait for them to capitulate. As it happens, the first person will be coming through that wall of windows in a couple minutes,” Lynn revealed.

"Are you saying you don’t know who it will be?“ asked Rachel, attempting to grasp how precognition worked; her Psychic ability was being scrambled when trying to get a read off the girl.

“There are four possibilities: Ella, Ken, a security guard with a shotgun, or Mrs. Carson,” said Lynn trying to explain how different paths diverge.

“So?” snarked Rachel in retort, not seeing any difference between them.

“The outcome changes depending upon who comes to us first.”

“Which is best?”

“What? I have to rank them now?” objected Lynn. “Okay - fine … Ken is our best bet, the security guard the worst. The others are kinda equal.”

“Can we sweeten the odds in our favour?” wondered Rachel, not certain if precognition could be used that way.

“Maybe … Charlotte, can you open up a window?” politely asked Lynn.

“No problem.” The Exemplar girl picked up a heavy metal frame chair and lobed it through one of the windows.

“Those are sliding doors, couldn’t you have tried opening one?” complained Rachel.

“You wanted an open window, you got an open window,” said the junior sister defiantly.

“Yes, thank you Charlotte, I could have expressed my intentions better,” sighed Lynn. “Can everyone come over here, it will lessen the anxiety of our visitor if we’re together and in plain sight.”

~o~O~o~

Elizabeth Carson took a couple steps back from ARC’s entrance door to get a better look at the building. She was trying to decide between kicking down the door, or finding another way in.

A sheepish notion hit her when she realized her first response had been to take matters into her own hands, rather than let ARC handle it. How long has she been teaching her kids to ‘think before you act’, and not let an adrenaline rush take over and lead you down a dead-end street. It was one of the fundamental lessons Whateley tried to instill into the kids.

A war of conflicting emotions raged within her. She had sent out a notification that an unruly group had left Whateley. Liz regretted that she called the group renegades, singling out one of them, Outlook, as a threat.

She recoiled at the possibility she had instigated this situation at ARC if it involved those kids. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was sticking her neck into a noose of her own creation. Guilt gnawed on her bones like a hungry dog.

Mrs. Carson had previously stifled the idea she was accountable. She felt she was the victim here. Whateley Academy had been endangered and she would defend it; so when Eloise had rebuffed her it put a different spin on her thinking and Liz's mind was reeling.

It had taken a lot of meetings with the school’s department heads to root out the basic problems and get everyone to focus on the school as a whole unit, not only their own little empires. It was a lack of communication between the departments that created the cracks Outlook fell into.

Blame is a fickle mistress, it spreads like a firecracker in a bag of dog poop… ‘Lord where did that come from?’ wondered Mrs. Carson - ah! An old Halloween prank from back in the day.

The headmistress reanalyzed how Whateley Academy was run. She plugged the holes she’d found, filled the cracks, and reopened lines of communication between departments. As the chief administrator it was her responsibility. However, getting everyone to buy in on the school’s interests first and not be focused upon self serving goals and pursuits would take time.

The hardest part had been admitting that she, as headmistress, had dropped the ball. The drive over here provided the time she’d needed for a moment of realization, and the injustice of her failure stung the heroine.

The school had failed Cameron Burke, and that was coming back to haunt her. The school was being sued. She had been served the papers by lawyer Emit Paulson, who was far too pleased with himself when they met. Outlook was litigating not only with her, but also the entire board of Trustee’s.

As well, Eloise’s little bombshell about Whateley’s relationship with the Medawihla had been an eye-opener. Because of her mistake Whateley Academy was at risk on many fronts. Fate had dealt her a losing hand with all the aces going to Cameron Burke.

Liz realized the first time she had actually met Cameron Burke was at Whateley’s front gate where she berated him in front of his friends and accused them of being mindless drones. She let her aggravation get the better of her, and fixing the escalated situation didn’t bode well.

It had been an established policy to let the local authorities know when potential trouble was leaving Whateley, but Elizabeth had overstepped that protocol’s boundaries. Instead of just the police, she contacted Arkham as well, telling them about a situation involving mind control. Worst of all, she also called the MCO - out of spite.

Standing in front of ARC with the building in lock-down, Elizabeth Carson was frustrated to the point where she was ready to cry. How had everything gone so wrong?

Not knowing, on top of not being able to do anything about the situation was driving her crazy, so Mrs. Carson dug into her purse to retrieve her cell phone.

Amelia Hartford picked up on the first ring. “Liz, how’s it going?”

“Amelia, ARC is in lockdown, tell me everything you can about Outlook and his associates!”

“Just a minute, I'm accessing Outlook’s online presence. Cameron Burke’s school file is incomplete as you know; no MID, and no powers testing results. His application does list enhanced sight, energy absorption and molecular rearrangement. I haven’t heard of that ability before … does that make him some kind of Manifestor?” questioned Ms. Hartford.

“I don’t know,” confessed the Headmistress. “Had Cameron been attending classes we might have been able to figure it out; I’m sure the Lab would have been ecstatic to test something new.”

“Other than that, Cameron is affiliated with the RCMP and on a diplomatic posting. I will keep digging,” assured Amelia.

“We have old school records for Marcus Johnson, he’s called Timbre, he’s a Level 3 Siren and Level 1 Gadgeteer. He took boxing, fencing, and wrestling as extracurriculars, graduated in 96,” added Amelia.

“Dr. Hewlett created a research file on Flambé. Let’s see, her name is Rhododendron but prefers R.E.D. Can't say as I blame her. Oh Liz! Don’t let that girl touch you, she’s a Level 6 Energizer, her hands can get extremely hot and she’s able to emit searing lightning like energy streams. She’s also a Level 3 Exemplar, she isn’t a Rager, but she gets hotter when upset. Not someone to take lightly.”

“Got it, don’t get the Energizer mad,” confirmed Mrs. Carson. “She could burn the place to the ground if left unchecked.”

“Let’s see what else I can find? Here we go! Ken Tallman, base line human, RCMP officer assigned to something called Special Investigations, sharpshooter among other merit awards.”

“Another RCMP, Al Koenig, uses Roche de Boule which translates to rolling rock. So he’s a Brick obviously. MID classification has him between a Level 3 and 4.”

“Now this is interesting, a pair of twins and their younger sister, not much to go on, their records have been sealed by Child Services. But I have accessed their visitor packets. Swift is a Level 4 Speedster, his name is Timothy. Rachel, the other twin, is called Perspicacious; Level 3 Psychic. And their thirteen year old sister Charlotte goes by Excelle, she is an Exemplar / Energizer mix … power levels unconfirmed due to her age since she only has a temporary MID. She’s a Booster! That’s just not … Liz, forget the power ratings I gave you.”

“What’s wrong?” Intoned Mrs. Carson. “You’re not telling me something.”

“Dr. Hewlett tagged Excelle’s file, he’s begging that Whateley keep that kid on campus. If I understand his reasoning, a booster amplifies abilities by increasing the link to other planes of existence, the theorized source of everyones powers. And I quote, ‘To be able to study a booster is like finding the holy grail.’ I’ve never seen the good doctor so impassioned.”

“Sure, dump another load onto my shoulders why don’t you?”

“Let’s face it Liz, these kids … all of them, need Whateley! Heaven knows who will try to get their hooks into them, use them to whatever ends. If we just let them go without teaching them how to survive we might as well have signed their death warrants.”

“Wouldn’t Gunny Bardue love to pit a group like this up against the Grunts,” mused Mrs. Carson.

“Now Liz! … You hung up your cape to teach so you could give the next generation the benefit of your experiences. So don’t tell me you’re now thinking of engaging in some aggressive negotiations?” humoured Amelia.

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” chortled Mrs. Carson.

“I heard it called that someplace Liz.”

“Hopefully we can resolve this peacefully like adults,” confided Mrs. Carson.

“Says the Lady who wrangles mutant teenagers all day,” tossed in the assistant headmistress.

“Hope for the best, plan for the worst. That was a motto Champion used to say to me all the time.”

“I could dispatch a Whateley Security team to you, they could be there within a half hour. Eight against one are not good odds.”

“Arkham has their own people, it wouldn’t be right to steamroll over them. And it’s Nine! There is a Were with them,” revealed Elizabeth.

“Liz, Have you ever tangled with a Were before?”

“No, only verbally, which is more than enough. What I’m really worried about is that she might have an ability. Look online, see if there’s any reference to a Pantheress and a Golden Eyed Man.”

“I found something under Native American folklore, a tale about a farsighted chieftain and a mighty hero leading the people to victory. It has many tellings but that seems to be the basics.”

“Farsighted? Does that mean precognition?” stammered Mrs. Carson with a degree of worry. She had battled a Pre-Cog before and the memory of that day never faded. His ability had let him know exactly what Liz would do before she even did it - thereby countering every move Liz made until she was reduced to becoming a mere plaything to the villain. Ms. Miracle had been beaten badly that day, that prospect wasn’t something Elizabeth wished to re-visit.

Eloise had mentioned that Cameron was seen as a hero to the Were, it sounded like he found a way to defeat the Voodoo Wolves, a way that didn’t involve killing them.

“It’s not too late for you turn around and come home,” advised Amelia, aware of Mrs. Carson’s feelings about Pre-Cogs.

Liz knew she had little chance of winning today if it came to a fight, that is if her worst fears and the intel she’d just gotten proved true. But oftentimes just showing up was worth more than winning. An honourable loss can hold just as much importance when fighting for your morals and beliefs. When you're fighting for what’s right it’s the might of conviction that wins.

The Pit

Cameron sat on the edge of his cot, it was the only piece of furniture the small cell had. The young boy had fought the urge to leave already, but he hadn’t found any sign of his friends yet, and that hung like a proverbial 5 ton weight waiting to fall on him. How would the Roadrunner get outta this one?

Outlook worried what repercussions might befall his friends if he tried anything, it wasn’t like a locked door could stop him. However, getting out of this pit could prove complicated. No, his concern was about Lynn and his friends, but particularly Lynn. It was getting hard to think about anything but her, he wanted to spend every minute of every day with her, talk with her about everything. He’d even settle for talking about nothing if it meant he could be with her. Besides, that single kiss wasn’t enough, the memory of it lingered on his lips, he wanted more.

But Lynn was acting so nervous around Cameron before … maybe, … maybe she regretted being around him, she got what she needed done and now it was goodbye. The sadness that filled Cameron made breathing hard, maybe being locked up was easier than talking to her, maybe he’d lose her like he had his family.

Before, in the restaurant she had said, ‘I’m sorry’. She knew this would happen, but didn’t prevent it … why? If she cared … why?

Cameron couldn’t decide if he was more scared of being with Lynn or losing her.

What he did know was that; ‘Why?’ Is an exasperatingly annoying question, and it just kept repeating:
Why was Lynn so distant?
Why did Lynn allow me to be captured?
Why was I put in a cell instead of being experimented on, or tortured?
Why did Dr. Brentwood show up right after the drugs wore off?

Wait! That last why … maybe they have me under surveillance. I didn’t see anything in the cell - but that doesn’t mean …

While standing and stretching, he did a scan of the hallway beyond the one-way glass wall. Sure enough, the light fixture outside his cell housed a miniature camera. Cameron altered his vision to enable looking into the camera’s circuitry, and after severing a wire’s connection within the camera it resulted in the camera dying. Cameron allowed a hint of a smile to form; let the games begin.

Cameron was sick and tired of the drab stone walls, he opened the small space up, making it square, then materialized wood using it to create a cozy looking log cabin. He blocked off most of the wall of windows with logs until all that remained was a nice sized picture window.

He needed a decent washroom, a toilet in the middle of the room wasn’t acceptable, so he shaped a doorway and began disintegrating rock, burrowing deeper into the cell’s back wall creating a hallway. He made a nice large room to one side for the toilet and sink, adding in a mirror and counter. Since he was at it, he fabricated a big walk in shower, and beside that a massive stone soaker tub.

As Cameron pushed the hallway he’d formed outward, he came across something entirely unexpected. He discovered a seam of gold in the rock. Chasing the gold deposit, he ended up exposing a long length of tunnel. It became a large enough hollow to make a long swimming pool ideal for swimming laps. Plus he established a big flat open area to do some exercises, which seemed an appropriate addition.

Cameron decided that he needed a bedroom. A space suitable to put a decent bed would be nice, not that he wanted to stay long, but he might as well be comfortable. So across the hall from the washroom he opened up another room, and after making a pedestal, he set onto it one of the big extra plush beds from Warehouse.

He held to the rustic log cabin theme throughout and he felt calmer as it reminded him of his time with Marcus and Grace when they stayed at Jasper.

After pulling a huge leather recliner chair from Warehouse into the cell’s original space as a finishing touch, Cameron sat down to watch the anticipated fireworks. As he waited, he checked how much gold he had accumulated, he had mined just shy of 200 pounds worth about 4.4 million. Not bad!

The small basket in the elevator shaft was returning on the cable once again. This time, as before at lunch time, there was just a single occupant with a service cart. Outlook remained sitting in his chair, he checked his stores and decided he could spare some popcorn. Noticing just how tight the space was on the lift, it dawned on Cameron that they mustn’t have been able to get anything better than foldable cots to sleep on down here.

The man pushed his service cart off the confining lift, came up the hallway to the light outside Cameron’s cell and commenced assembling a ladder. The man in coveralls proceeded to take the light fixture apart. It was a grand performance to make it look like he was changing a light bulb rather than checking on the disabled camera.

Cameron scanned the man looking for any clues and deep inside his wallet found a security card, it was MCO! Nickolas Turcotte wasn’t an agent but a technician. During the time Nick was working he repeatedly glanced over towards Cameron in obvious nervous disbelief. The boy was sitting in an impossible chair, in a most unlikely room.

Cameron didn’t give any indication he’d noticed Nick in the hallway. The boy dipped his hand into his bowl of popcorn, happily munching away while reading his book.

The technician finished repairing the surveillance camera after considerable consternation and difficulty. He was preparing to pack up his gear when Cameron sauntered over to the window and closed the curtains he had hung during construction, thereby blocking anyone - or anything from looking in at him.

Arkham Research Centre

Lady Astarte took to the air assuming the classic pose with one arm held forward and a bent knee; she climbed slowly upward to rise above the two story wall, scanning the facility for an access. She remembered there was a central courtyard adjacent to the cafeteria. It might be an easy place to gain entry, or at least she could hopefully find out more about what was happening.

After circling some of the above ground building comprising part of the ACR facility, she alighted onto a walkway within the courtyard. Her arrival stilled the advance of an armed security officer who retreated to a safe position. Elizabeth scouted her options; all the glass doors were closed and there were scant revelations about what had transpired. However, one window had been smashed out so she stepped closer to investigate.

As she neared the open window it was apparent a metal chair had shattered the floor to ceiling glass. The projectile had been flung with such force that it had come to rest a good thirty feet away.

Stepping on the glass fragments was unavoidable unless she flew. However, taking an aerial position could be construed as threatening, so she remained earth bound as small pieces of glass crunched underfoot. The experienced heroine prepared herself for an imminent attack as she looked in. The room was an eating area adjacent to the facility’s kitchen, tables and chairs situated throughout, a buffet table and drink dispenser set to one side.

Near the back corner of the room at a table sat three youths, two girls and a boy. Another girl stood close by, leaning against the back wall behind them. The fifth, another girl - younger than the others was sitting on the table beside them swinging her legs. She recognized them as the very group who had been with Outlook at Whateley’s gate.

“Mrs. Carson, please come in. We’d like to speak with you,” called a voice from within the building.

Elizabeth performed another quick survey of the room as she entered, no one else was present. Curious, there had been three adults with Outlook, one was standing beside him while the others remained in the van, yet no sign of Outlook or the adults. Where were they? No Arkham staffers either?

“There's coffee or tea if you'd like, some of the desserts are really good,” offered the seated girl in the middle. The Psychic, she’d surmised from her assessment.

“Tea would be nice,” smiled Mrs. Carson trying to stay calm and placid in her mind and body. It wasn’t that she was thirsty, but better to build a cordial relationship than refuse hospitality.

Before she even finished that thought, she had a plate in her hand, a tea bag was steeping in a cup of hot water, and on the plate were two squares, one lemon the other chocolate. No one had moved from what she was able to detect. The Speedster she realized, no way was he just a Level 4.

A chair had been positioned in front of the table, it was a classic interrogation format, but Mrs. Carson lingered beside the buffet to doctor her tea before taking the strategically placed seat. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement, but at least she could keep an eye on each of them.

“Shall we commence with introductions?” asked the headmistress.

“We can dispense with that formality. We know you’ve been briefed, and you’ve deduced who we are … what we’re capable of,” revealed Perspicacious.

“I see. What about the others? Cameron doesn’t wish to dirty his hands with an interrogation?”

There was a quick glance shared between the two seated girls: the Pre-Cog and the Psychic. The Psychic was the spokesperson, a logical choice, “You expect us to believe you don’t know where Outlook is?”

“He’s not with you?” Puzzled Mrs. Carson, his not being with them at ARC was an entirely unexpected turn of events. Elizabeth had figured she would be speaking with Outlook, this entire venture had become so much worse.

“We were separated,” provided the black haired girl who shared features with Eloise Donner. “He was put into a different vehicle.”

“He wasn’t brought here with the rest of you,” deduced Mrs. Carson as worry replaced hope. “You don’t know his whereabouts?”

The Psychic, Perspicacious, answered, “We are not in contact with him.”

This wasn’t good, she had walked into the lion’s den and was going to get shredded. By contacting the authorities, the headmistress hadn’t meant to break them up. She just tried to prevent a manipulated half cocked group of children who didn’t know any better from going off to get themselves killed. Mrs. Carson honestly didn’t know where Outlook had been taken, or who might have gotten their clutches on him, but she had been the one to sic the dogs on him.

“She doesn’t know where he is either, but she’s the Judas who turned us over,” blurted Rachel to keep the rest informed on revealed details.

The tall redhead stood upright in anger, and scowled, “You had no right! We didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You have every reason to be upset with me,” confessed Mrs. Carson.

“Upset does not even beginning to describe how mad I am,” the Energizer’s eyes took on a tinge of bright scarlet. Her hair pulsed in rapid waves that traveled down its length. It also looked as if smoke was coming from her clothes, the sleeves of the institute’s pyjamas bursting into flames.

“Take it easy, deep breaths Flambé, let her explain,” calmed Lynn, receiving a ‘harrumph’ for her efforts as the girl patted out the fire like this sort of thing happened all the time.

“I am obligated to provide a warning about potentially dangerous individuals who leave Whateley. When you left, I didn’t know what you might be capable of … you had just fought a war at my school,” pleaded Mrs. Carson.

The enraged girl closed her eyes and breathed deeply trying to tame her rage It wasn’t happening with ease.

“We did you no harm, heck - we protected your school,” complained Swift, upset over being maligned.

“I know that! … Now. At the time, I could only assume that you had been mentally usurped and used to suit Outlook’s agenda.”

“That’s the problem when you assume, It makes an ASS out of U and ME,“ chirped Charlotte.

“Excelle! You’re not helping,” snapped her big sister cutting the young girl off.

“No, she’s right,” admitted the headmistress. “My conduct was injudicious. Whateley Academy is my responsibility. When I perceived it to be under threat you took the brunt of my frustration. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, I acted out of fear without regard to the facts.”

“We appreciate that you came to speak candidly with us. But, as you’re aware, all our friends aren’t here. Until we can regroup are you willing to help us locate the others?”

“I have influence with a number of the people at Arkham, I can act as a mediator for the release of hostages if you like.”

“You’ve already helped enough!” scowled Flambé at the suggestion.

Rachel winced at the harsh words, but needed to diffuse the angst, “That’s kind of you, but we’re here because of you, we don’t trust you.”

“I meant I could negotiate with you, for release of your hostages.”

“We’ve taken no prisoners, we only incapacitated people - and those are recuperating as we speak.”

“I thought …” stammered Mrs. Carson.

“What? That we had brutally taken over this place to force our will, begun torturing and killing people, exacting vengeance for your misdeed?”

“Not exactly,” voiced Liz, concerned at having her thoughts exposed.

“That is what you felt us capable of,” revealed Rachel. “The truth is, we are the hostages. If you were serious in your offer to help Mrs. Carson, let our captors know that we want to be reunited and free to leave.”

“Or?” asked Mrs. Carson, to better understand the terms of the mediation.

“How long do you imagine this place can go without food? I can detect 300 people nearby; so many hungry mouths to feed with no kitchen!”

“I have your word you haven’t harmed anyone?”

“They experienced only dizziness and nausea, after a little rest they’ll be fine. We did disarm them, which is to be expected after all.”

“Very well, I will speak to Arkham on your behalf,” commented Liz, feeling a wave of relief at how this was turning out. She started to rise from the chair…

“Before you go, would you answer another question?” spoke the Were.

The heroine’s nerve endings sparked, expecting the worst. “Shoot,” she replied, not even realizing the implications.

“Why do you hate Outlook?” asked the Pre-Cog.

Well, that was a loaded question! The headmistress dropped back into the chair, but stared at the ceiling for a moment, collecting her thoughts and feelings before speaking.

The Psychic tilted her head slightly as she looked intently at the woman in the hot-seat, curious to hear the answer.

“I admit, I wasn’t happy about being charged with child abuse. That could have ruined my career, destroyed everything I’ve spent my whole life working for. But I don’t hate him.”

“Then why refuse to admit him to Whateley? Put him in detention?”

“Gods! That was a mistake! When he was in my office, I thought he was someone else … it was the worst mistake I’ve made; not turning around to look directly at him. But … when he spoke I heard another student’s voice, the reflection on my window was of someone else. I can’t understand it.”

“So you admit to heaping torture upon Outlook, and then couldn’t be bothered to check up on him.”

“He never came back to the office! I didn’t know about his situation. How could I be expected to fix something I didn’t know was broken?”

“You slammed the door in his face so hard he couldn’t come to you. Or anyone else at your school for that matter.”

“He should have stepped up for himself, maybe talked to his parents.”

“You mean the parents who have been dead and buried for eight years?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No! You shouldn’t have. But it shows that you’ve failed to understand the first thing about Cameron! He doesn’t want to be a burden to anyone, he’s trying to be an adult, and adults don’t come crying to mommy for help - they solve their own problems.”

“But he isn’t an adult, an adult would have asked for help.”

“You can’t be serious! Most adults are too full of themselves to ask for help. Or they're too scared that they don’t measure up to their peers.”

“He didn’t give us a chance.”

“A chance? A chance like the one you gave Cameron?” The words left Lynn’s mouth as she choked back a sob. ”Cameron tried to live under the conditions you stipulated, he wanted so badly to impress you, to show the world he wasn’t a quitter,” the Were’s emotions broke as tears trickled down her cheeks, “… but Whateley just kept yanking the rug out from underneath him. Now he’s suffering from the wounds you inflicted!” Lynn used a napkin to dab at the tears running paths down to her chin.

“I didn’t … I … I did,” commented the headmistress, as the implications of the matter came into focus with the full weight settling upon Elizabeth’s shoulders.

“What would you have done if Cameron had been here?” sought the Were.

“I’d like to try and apologize to him, admit my mistakes, even if that scuttled our defence in court.”

“Had you at any time even considered giving him a hug and saying, ‘I’m sorry’?”

Tears now streaked down the heroine’s face, “No, I hadn’t thought that would be possible.”

“Then you sorely underestimate Cameron.”

The Pit

The elevator had been busy, it had made three trips in short order. Cameron calculated the shaft’s depth based on the turn-around time; a half hour round trip, give or take. Using the speed of travel of the metal basket on the cable, it was 1100 feet up; up to heavens knows what.

Outlook could only see through 200 feet of solid rock before his vision got obscured. Maybe if he stood at the bottom of the shaft he might figure out more…

He couldn’t worry about that right now though, his foe had amassed three people at his door. They were preparing to make a forced entry.

A canister was being connected to his cell’s air supply, they wanted him knocked-out. The wheeled dolly with restraints they had brought down meant that whatever had caused them to be cautious before was no longer preventing them from becoming aggressive, and that didn’t look to be pleasant.

Surprisingly, it seems nobody remembered that a prison cell can keep people out just as well as it keeps people in. Cameron heard the additional hiss in the ventilation from the canister. He gathered the gas as it slowly entered his cell, putting it into a prepared vessel in Warehouse, then waited as the three agents outside his door counted down the time it would take for the gas to render him unconscious.

In preparation, the three donned face masks. Then at the GO signal the code to unlock the door was entered: One, Three, Seven, Nine, Five, Five. Cameron put the code to memory. Meanwhile, the three goons were stymied since the door didn’t budge. Not that it could move, Cameron had fused the metal door all around the former opening.

Two crowbars were used to try and jimmy the door open, to no avail. After an argument, one of the three climbed into the suspended cage basket to be hauled up. The other two kept trying to force the door, it was a valiant albeit fruitless endeavour.

When the basket returned, the third man had brought an acetylene torch with him and all three helped wheel the torch over. Then the torch was lit and they began to try cutting through the door.

The cutting didn’t go as planned The door’s metal didn’t even get hot so it could melt due to Cameron absorbing the heat, not that the three outside could determine that. Their frustration mounted at the inability to collect a prisoner.

All three men had been sweating from the labour of trying to open the door and the additional effort that wearing facemarks required didn’t make the task easier. Cameron was surprised by the sudden sequence of events outside his door. The acetylene torch slipped out of one of the men’s hands. Flame cut across the gas canister’s hose and the resulting explosion hurtled the men against the rock walls.

Cameron was unharmed hidden inside his protective cocoon, that wasn’t the case for the men outside who took the brunt of the blast. Exposed skin was burned, bones were broken, and they suffered cuts and contusions. The men were a mess those still conscious writhed on the floor in agony.

The explosion caused the elevator basket to become wedged, twisting it in the tight shaft. Help would not be coming down anytime soon.

Black smoke rolled from the hallway up into the shaft. The air was clearer near the floor, but the thick smoke at the ceiling dimmed the lights making the prison hallway dark.

Taking some of the knockout gas that had been intended for Cameron, he placed a small amount of the gas into each of the men’s lungs. There was some coughing, but very quickly they all succumbed and lay motionless.

Cameron once again shorted out the camera surveillance feed so no one could watch, even if the smoke blocked visibility. Cameron dissipated the door’s restraint allowing it to retract into the wall, he then entered the hallway outside his cell. The youth conducted an assessment of each of the injured men. The masks they wore had protected their faces from burns, and filtered the smoke, but it restricted being able to breathe.

Of all the men, the one closest to the explosion had suffered the most damage. His impact against the wall had broken seven ribs, and each breath was a gulping / gasping affair. Cameron layered his sight and began to weave broken bones together. Once the man’s chest began to rise in a steady rhythm, Cameron looked for other problems, closing gashes to prevent blood loss.

The next man had taken a bad blow to his head, a clear liquid ran out from an ear. Repairing the internal damage allowed the man to visibly relax, Cameron reset the dislocated shoulder and tended to his broken arm. The two men had fallen into a tangled heap, so Cameron dragged them out of the small alcove into the hallway and laid them out flat on the floor.

The last man had been thrown clear of the blast, having bounced off a wall and landed away from the others. He had been winded, both his arms and a knee cap broken, with a long shallow wound running down his side where he impacted the rock. After mending the breaks and ensuring no serious blood loss would endanger him, Cameron propped him against a wall to help him breathe easier.

Going into the kitchen, Cameron found some bandages in a first aid kit, and after soaking them in water he placed them on the worst of the burnt skin. As there were no more life threatening injuries, time and a doctor’s care would suffice. Cameron felt no need to do more for them, but he would still keep them unconscious.

Since he was out of his cell, Cameron decided to check out his surroundings. Taking a look up the elevator shaft he determined it ended 1123 feet up at a set of sliding doors with a winch and cable spool positioned above. Cameron’s vertigo had his head spinning, the boy didn’t get along well with heights.

Walking down the hallway Cameron looked into each of the cells to see who else was being held prisoner down here, checking up on his roomies to make sure everyone else had faired well in the explosion.

Two of the cells held avatar mutants, each hosting wraiths. These weren’t overly powerful spirits but neither of them could be counted on as possible allies. They had enough sense to stay laying down and had avoided any harm.

The third occupied cell held another mutant, a scruffy looking middle aged man without distinguishing features to identify him. He had a minor psychic rating that Cameron couldn’t place. He too was unharmed.

The fourth cell’s windows had been boarded up, but a few of the boards had been displaced. However: within - it was unmistakable, a corrupted Were. The black filth oozed as it covered over them. Cameron watched as the dark rolled and churned as it sought a means to escape confinement. It paced around the cell for what must have been the millionth time.

How someone had managed to capture it was almost as good a question as, ‘What was it doing here?’

Arkham Research Centre

The sneaky red fox’s entry into the dining room through the broken window almost escaped notice. However, Lynn’s senses picked up the quiet movement and tracked the fox with her cat tuned eyes. The fox snuck behind a chaise lounge along the far wall.

Lynn called out, “Hi Ella!”

All eyes turned to see the Were girl as she relaxed on a lounge chair. “Can’t leave you alone for a single minute,” Ella complained, wearing a smile as she acknowledged each of the youth by looking directly at them in turn, satisfied that they were whole and healthy.

“Good to see you too,” countered Lynn. “What have you done with my brother?”

“We split up in Dunwich; Allan’s following Cameron’s scent. He wanted to come after you, but my dad and I convinced Allan he should look for Cameron while the trail was still warm.”

“So your dad?”

“Oh! He’s outside teaching some dud of a Fudd security guard that no season is fox season.”

“You’ve arrived just in time, now that we’ve got two Oberons, this is going to be like having your cake and eating it too,” gushed Lynn, giving the other Were girl a hug.

“We’ve got some cake over here too, if you're hungry,” announced Swift. He filled another plate at the buffet table, reaching over Charlotte who was also at the table.

“He’s got the attention span of a doorknob, that one,” noted Ella in a soft mocking voice.

“Keep something shiny with you,” suggested Rachel, as she joined the Weres in conversation. “Tim has a big heart but his feet get ahead of his brain … and mouth.”

“I meant no harm,” back-pedalled Ella.

“None was taken, my brother can be a doofus, but he’s my brother,” admitted Rachel.

“I get what you're saying,” confided Lynn, “Allan can be the same way.”

“I don’t know, Allan’s kinda nice,” hinted Ella.

“Does the battle ready warrior have a conquest in mind?” exaggerated Lynn by raising her hand to her mouth as if shocked.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” stated Ella trying to dismiss her involvement.

“Really, and how far would you go?” mocked Lynn, now becoming protective of her family member.

“I’m interested, I mean Allan’s a nice guy and all, but I don’t think I could commit to anything. Not yet anyway,” admitted Ella.

“Your duty as Oberon is foremost to your heart,” observed Lynn taking on her farsighted glaze, “yet you wonder what your life might be like afterwards.”

“Of course there’s that, and I’ve never really given much thought to the whole boyfriend / girlfriend thing. But I guess priorities change,” mulled Ella.

“Okay, I’ll promise you something: when the battle is over, I’ll tell you what your future will be. Just don’t send Allan any mixed signals, he might look all strong and wonderful on the outside, but he’s been through a lot and has a lot of healing to do.”

“I like that he’s got a vulnerable side, it makes me feel needed,” mentioned Ella, her nod of agreement sealing the pact.

“What about your dad? How is he doing?” asked Lynn mostly out of curiosity, but also because the current topic bordered on trying to determine her brother’s life.

“He won’t talk about it, he’s afraid to show any weakness.”

“Is he up to a fight?” Lynn’s question was direct; she said what she did for a specific reason.

“Are you kidding? He’s ready to tear a strip of anything that casts a shadow.”

“Will you introduce us?” requested the Pantheress.

“Just a sec.” Ella moved over to the open window and motioned for someone outside to enter. “Dad, this is the Pantheress, Lynn Franklin. My Lady, I present to you Ulrich Oberon, my father.”

The man dropped to his knee and bowed his head, not even daring to look at Lynn. The others in the crew watched with amazement as the scene unfolded. Lynn had to grab Ella to prevent her from taking a knee also.

“Oberon, I am pleased to meet you. I believe you are familiar with my mother, Theresa Donner,” Lynn said while motioning for him to rise.

The man stuttered as his memory stirred, “Theresa Donner, the Medawihla Panther who wouldn’t accept the mantle.”

“My mother couldn't fulfill the role, it wasn’t the right time.”

“Theresa only had two children; sons, there was no daughter. The Pantheress couldn’t have come through her.”

“Granted these clothes are not very becoming, but I am most definitely female, and I certainly know who my mother is,” advised Lynn.

“But the Pantheress cannot be an Outcast, she must lead the people, an Outcast cannot be chief.

“And so your sins catch up with you! You dug up a fake Golden Eyed Man to suit your template, tried forcing Mom to marry him, and entirely forgot the prophecies intent.”

“No!” cried out the man as he reeled back trembling at the accusation.

“I should disembowel you where you stand, but the truth is Ulrich Oberon, I need your help to find Cameron Burke, we’ve no time to lose!”

End Part 2

No Matter the Cost: Part 3

By Camospam, Wendy K, and Gabi.

A non-canon Whateley Academy tale

Arkham Research Centre (ARC)

“Ulrich Oberon! I need you to find Cameron Burke, there is no time to waste,” insisted Lynn.

“My Lady, You are in danger, my place is here - protecting you.”

“You mistake my intentions, I’m not dismissing you, your skill and dedication as an Oberon are needed. I must send all the help I can to assist the Golden Eyed Man,” pronounced Lynn. “He is, or soon shall be in great peril.”

“But isn’t your wellbeing my foremost concern?”

“You forget too easily an Oberon’s role as sword and shield to the Golden Eyed Man, you must ensure his safety, such is your duty. The Pantheress can take care of herself.”

“I swore to serve the Were.”

“Then the best way to serve the Were, is to carry out your oath and protect Cameron.”

“But he is not one of the people.”

“How many times does he need to put his life in danger to help our people? We had no way to effectively resist the dark forces until Cameron came to us, he gave Were the means to restore our family, our people, and break the dark warlords back. You may not have felt it, but it was Cameron’s own hand that freed you from captivity. This is how you see fit to repay him?”

“Humans cannot be trusted, they lie as easily as breathing. I do not yield, man has no share in our future.”

“Then by your own admission you are of no use to me,” proclaimed Lynn with shrunken shoulders, disheartened from the betrayal.

The Pantheress’ words and those of her father shocked Ella, who gasped at the directness and implications of what was said, it tugged at her heart strings, her very being shaken by revelations so foreign. It resulted in tears welling up in Ulrich’s daughter’s eyes, her attention alternating between the Pantheress and her father, her world unraveling with each passing heartbeat.

“But…” Ulrich attempted to justify or contradict, just not given the opportunity.

“You have a long history of only serving that which suits your preconceptions. Bigotry can now be added to your failings,” berated Lynn without waiting for a reply. “I fear that hate and pride have made you incapable of seeing the prophecy’s true intent,” continued Lynn, again allowing for no response. ”For the Were to rise again, prophecy said intervention from a weak - pitiful human was needed to finally break the yoke around our necks.”

“I have given the entirety of my life to upholding the Oberon pledge, so prophecy might bear fruit. I’ve honoured my family and sought to protect the Were at every turn,” defended Ulrich.

“Yet, where were you? During the recent battle, had I mistook your presence amidst the battle lines of the Were?” Requested Lynn of the now visibly agitated warrior.

“I had been overcome by darkness.” Bitterly spat Ulrich at the insult.

“Then I beseech you, seeing as you had once been corrupted physically but set free, can you not now - as before, break free mentally from possessing a wrong attitude? One that prevents you from fulfilling your pledge as Oberon.”

“I remain resolute, an Oberon’s loyalty is only to Were. Humans are not a concern of mine - or my daughter.”

“Without doubt, you have raised an amazing daughter. Ella is a dear friend, and has been of immense value, to both Cameron and I, to all the Were. I had hoped, that you also could adapt, realized that misconceptions and misinterpretations are hindering your beliefs.”

“You are no Were! You twist words, making that which is bad sound good. Banishment was too lenient for your mother, now she has raised an abomination for a child.”

“I do wish you hadn’t brought my mother into this, she never said a negative thing about the Were my whole life. She wept when it became apparent what role I would play. No, my mother is not the problem here! That falls upon you.

“I denounce you as Pantheress, I shall not heed your voice.”

“It’s a pity that you ignore all of what has been accomplished. Acknowledge what Cameron has done for the Were. But being blind has a greater meaning than just not being able to see.”

“Ella, come! We are done here,” ordered the elder Oberon as he headed for the open window.

“No father, I am staying.” Her pain obvious in her quivering voice, but her resolve apparent as she walked without hesitation to stand beside Lynn, placing an arm over her shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

Ulrich gave a scowl followed by his stepping outside the room. A moment later a small flash of red fur dashed over the courtyards perimeter wall to say he had left.

Ella shed a tear as she sputtered in anguish, Lynn gave the girl a comforting hug as she too fought with tears.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way,” confided Lynn. “The high council’s concern was only for the Were, just like your dad. They wouldn’t lift a finger to assist mutant or human, and they tried to prevent me from helping too, I’m sorry about your dad.”

“I don’t understand,” groaned Ella. “Wasn’t the battle meant to save both the Were and Mutant?”

“Two battles were fought, two distinct skirmish lines on the same war. The Were won freedom, the mutants repelled slavery for a time at least. We shared a common cause with very different outcomes. We share much with our younger cousins, these mutated humans.”

“But…” moaned Ella trying to grasp at a fading wish, a perfect life.

“Always a but isn’t there?” mused Lynn at the open ended question, knowing personally how powerful hope is, no matter how unlikely, hope always persisted, as it should.

“No one likes a situation to end on a bad note,” interjected Rachelle, to show compassion for an injured companion.

“Is that why people call a rear-end a butt?” wondered Charlotte, reflecting on how Ella’s dad had left.

“There are times when the best you can hope for is to see people’s back side as they walk away, and sometimes the best view a person has to offer is their backside,” explained Timothy to his little sister.

“I’d say that’s almost profound, if only it hadn’t come from you,” jested Rachelle to her sibling twin giving him a nudge in the ribs.

“Ella?“ begged Lynn as she pulled the girl down into a chair beside her. “ I’m sorry to have to ask this, can you locate my brother? Cameron is going to need your help.”

“All right, I’ll go,” assured Ella. “We watched from around the corner as you all got hauled away. You eight got loaded into ARC vehicles. Cameron was put into an unmarked van and headed a different direction, the soldiers taking him elsewhere. Alan volunteered to follow Cameron saying he would mark his trail.”

“Good.” Smiled Lynn at the new found confidence of a friend. “Now; In the parking lot you’ll find an older green pick-up truck. It’s unlocked and the keys are in the ashtray. At the gate tell the guard ‘Mr. Lockland needs some catfish’. Three miles down the road is a pull off, wait there for ten minutes. Head to Dunwich and ditch the truck, you’ll pick up Alan’s trail on the route.

“You’re not coming with me?”

“No, Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine. Just remember to wait ten minutes at the pull off.”

Ella shifted to fox form. Before stepping out the broken window she looked back at her friends, she raised her snout in salute and gave a toothy smile when all inside waved farewell. The fox slipped away without making a sound and disappeared quickly from sight.

~o~O~o~

“Mrs. Carson! You cannot expect us to simply stand aside and let these juvenile delinquents run ragged over us,” refuted the ARC’s security lieutenant, a stout little man who’s collar must be too tight since his face was beet red. That or he was flushed with anger from the affront of it all. “They have seized control of my institute, injured my people, and now you tell me they have the gaul to be making farcical demands.”

“They have hardly taken over Arkham,” refuted Mrs. Carson. “All they’ve done is barricaded themselves into your cafeteria area. As demands go, they just want to go home. If you attempt to inflame the situation, it’s going to ignite into something far worse than a handful of unhappy kids.” Warned Mrs. Carson trying to get the little stuffed shirt dictator to see reason and not respond rashly.

“What’s your game here lady? You’re the one who issued an alert about this group in the first place,” the Security guard now trying to intimidate the heroine by forcing her into backing down. “Now you're saying we should just cut em loose an let them run willy-nilly all over the place. Why should I believe you?”

“I made a mistake, I misread a situation, mistook their intentions,” admitted Lady Astarte. “Sadly it started a chain reaction, which needs to be stopped now before it becomes a disaster.”

“How do I know you haven’t been compromised too? Like them cops and that other fella they brought in, so’s the doc’s can root around inside their noggins, ta figure out how come they’s acting all highfaluting an such. Hope the Doc’s are finally gonna be able to stop another mutant overlord before he gets ta takin over the world, like them nutcases in Karedonia and Wallachia.”

“It was a mistake! Gods, how many times is this going to jump up and bite me? I let my emotions cloud my judgement, I over-reacted. Okay?” Explained an emotionally charged Mrs. Carson. “My school was in danger! Hell, for all I knew the sky was falling. I ended up blaming a bunch of kids - who it turns out, had only sought to be helpful.”

“I’m not the one to make that call,” sloughed off the Security donkey. “You better talk to Doc Michaels, Dr. Otto gave the assessment of this bunch over for him to handle. My boys are getting into position, an itching to go, so we’re not going to wait long. If’n you’re hoping to find a hearing ear, best speak to Michaels soon.”

“Where might I find Doctor Michaels?”

“Ask at reception, I ain’t no tour guide. He’ll be one of the doctors given your little group of renegades a working over.”

“Out of curiosity may I ask, How many of your people are unaccounted for?” Requested Mrs. Carson.

“Nobody’s missing at last count.” Informed the uniform, unconcerned about the meaning of what he just said.

The Pit

Cameron stood transfixed watching the constant turmoil which defined the black ooze’s existence, it rolled and boiled like hot water in a stovetop pot. The goop looked alive, yet it destroyed anything it came into contact with. It was a puzzle: it looked like negative energy, while positive energy supported life, death fed negative energy, but this stuff wasn’t dead.

Everyone talks about renewable energy, if they could only see the world like Cameron, how life brings energy in and uses it to grow - only for it to eventually come to an end at death, then that energy returned, enriched matter restoring and replenishing, just a great big cycle.

However, all matter, and hence all energy, all that exists - must be kept in balance, the black goop skewed the scales. It was negative energy but it didn’t return to its rightful place so restoration couldn’t happen. It held negative energy captive - hoarded it, abused it, it was a perversion, it was against the universes rules.

Cameron kept watching the dark enshrouded Were within the cell before him, he shuddered at how repulsive it looked, it demanded by its very existence that you not look upon it. It was vile, evil, the enemy of all who live - at least it should, why would someone do this to another?

How simple it would be to eradicate this beast, snuff it out of existence. If only there wasn’t a life wrapped up inside the filth, something - someone worthwhile. Life choices are never easy.

Cameron consoled himself that his role was not to choose who lives or dies, only to uncover that which is hidden. He’d checked Warehouse twice now for the materials needed to make an energy absorbing ball, some way to reclaim the woeful sight before him. His store of needed materials was completely expended, all used up, he had nothing left with which to make even one black ball.

Of the options available left to him, that is to say, ways which he could use to free the Were held prisoner within the ooze, Cameron kept coming up blank. That is to say, any options which didn’t expose him and the others down here to great danger. It’s just that the last thing Cameron wanted to do was to leave the poor creature as is, it grieved him, but that was all he could do at the moment.

The voodoo wolf continued its endless pacing, completing yet another circuit within its small confinement. Snarling and growling at being confined, something which the two agreed upon.

Cameron returned to his cell, he had little doubt that his captors would react soon. Whatever happened next would reveal much about everybody's intentions, and what was held in store for him. Cameron once more checked upon the injured men who he had inhibited so as to remain unconscious. Cameron staged a mock disaster in front of his cell to keep his involvement hidden.

To further confound his captors, Cameron put a reflective layer over his cells windows which prevented anyone spying upon him. If it was his tormentors wish to see him suffer, he wasn’t willing to oblige.

It didn’t take all that much time before Cameron detected activity within the elevator shaft, as a small group of men clad in military garb rappelled down into view. The small vertical tunnel didn’t afford room for more than two men at a time to descend, as it was, they came down one after the other. So the four men looked like a chain of monkeys as they lowered themselves down.

Once the first of the series of men arrived at the shaft’s bottom, a single bright light was flashed up the shaft, once given, the signal resulted in all power getting cut-off to the subterranean prison. Darkness always seems to be the first step for any incursion into a dangerous situation, giving an advantage to wearers of night vision goggles, which the four men had donned.

Light or dark made no difference to Cameron, since his ability to see changed little between them. Cameron had noticed that the lights used down in these tunnels were low voltage, and had been a poor source of energy to draw upon.

A couple grenade type explosives got tossed into the hallway, Ken Tallman called them ‘Flash-bangs’, used to disorient anyone in the immediate vicinity with an intense bright light followed by a loud concussive noise. They went off as intended, but what wasn’t expected was the remaining hint of knockout gas mixed with acetylene. It resulted in a fireball igniting which rolled along the roof of the cavern. A bit bigger an entrance than the commandos had planned, one that depleted the oxygen available.

The commandos stumbled into the hallway in pairs, getting past the lift basket which had been wedged sideways into the shaft, the single entry point presented them a challenge with limited space to maneuver within. If it had been intended to be an orchestrated advance, it ended up looking like they were tripping over their own shoelaces. But to be fair, any explosion tends to disorient, even if they were the ones who set it off.

The commandos eventually got themselves co-ordinated, they would secure a position until reinforced, then the next who arrived aided by the night vision goggles, moved further into the midnight black which the prison tunnel had become.

Cameron observed his visitors, each of the commandos wore protective armament as part of their assault gear, bullet proof vests with attached straps that machine guns hung off. In their hands they held pistols, additional ones strapped into holsters along with sheaved knives and other bits of nastiness. Most of them carried explosives as well as other assorted nicknacks.

What stood out most to Cameron was that nobody had names anywhere visible, except for those names which had been sewn inside, strange how people are offended over sharing underwear. The other odd thing was that no identifier was present, it looked like flags had been worn at one time but must have been removed. So this was likely repurposed gear, surplus maybe, it wasn’t all the same either, like they each got to pick and chose what to use.

However, from how they acted, they were used to getting and giving orders, by the way they moved it screamed that these guys had probably been trained by the military, but now working as hired guns, missionaries … or is that mercenaries. You say tom-at-oe, I say to-ma-toe.

After the commandos gave the whole place a quick once over, one of the group moved off and began a more determined sweep, checking door locks to ensure all captives remained secure, while another of the commando’s stepped into the elevator shaft and shone up a light to give an all-clear signal. The lights came back on and after a brief wait, thankfully, Cameron could smell fresh air again.

The unconscious men sprawled out on the tunnels floor received more medical attention, a commando wrapped first aid bandages and applied burn ointment to the worst of the injuries. Meanwhile two of the other commandos began to aright the elevator basket, freeing it from being wedged against the walls after the first explosion upset it, they then checked it over to inspect if it could be used again.

Once the basket was safe to use again, the two worst injured men got loaded up and secured into the basket, again a light was flashed to initiate raising the elevator topside. Before the basket rose two commandos climbed up above the full basket, attaching harnesses and clipping carabiners to the cable to get a ride up.

The two remaining commandos stayed near the elevator shaft, with the last injured man laying motionless on the floor. The men stayed alert but remained extraordinarily tense. Cameron did nothing to provoke them, and they kept distant, a fair exchange.

The long process of raising up and then lowering the elevator back down, looked to increase the frustration of these commando’s. Having to wait is an exercise in patience, patience being a trait not many bothered to cultivate. When the basket finally returned it was empty.

The basket was again loaded-up, this time with the last unconscious man propped up like a strung up turkey so a commando could also climb into the basket. The remaining commando straddled the basket, like those before. He sought to balance his weight to prevent the elevator from going askew, then, after a light was shone upward, the basket ascended. It reached a distance up, but then halted, allowing the men to affix explosive charges to the narrow shafts rock walls.

Not long afterwards the basket was lifted out of sight, soon enough however, the prisons lights were turned off. Cameron, and his fellow prisoners again became forcibly engulfed into an ink black darkness, left to succumb to death, one that would deprive a person of the essentials of life.

Cameron noticed that the air in his cells vent had already stopped flowing, he took a deep breath in response, his last intake of fresh air from above. His captors having made their move, doubtlessly a heavy handed play, but it showed the severity of the stakes in the game they played.

New Hampshire
Highway near ARC

Ella was uncomfortable to be parked on the roadside sitting in a stolen truck, having to wait ten minutes, for what? A police car to cruise by?

Suddenly the passenger door opened, followed by her dad quickly sitting down on the passenger seat. He didn’t say anything just motioned with his hand that she should get a move on.

They two sat in silence for what felt like an eternity as Ella drove. She would give her father a glance on occasion, not certain if hope or dread occupied the seat beside her.

“Do you know where we’re going?” asked her dad, as conversation openers go it wasn’t indicative of his intent.

“It depends on why you climbed in,” responded Ella not wanting to play games, beating around the bush rarely got you more than a handful of thistles.

“That girl back there got my hackles up,” emoted Ulrich as he looked out the side window avoiding his daughters eyes.

“Oh! Believe me, she’s good at that,” admitted Ella to a fact she had already discovered.

“I’d never considered that a human was part of the equation,” muttered Ulrich, still chewing through a deviation to his life course.

“It surprised me too,” consoled his daughter, who had the benefit of already getting her world turned upside down.

“Is he …?” fielded the senior Oberon, the brevity of his words belied the scope of what he asked.

“He is. Despite being an awkward, goofy, annoying, scrawny, and weak human, the boy is everything the Were have needed to defeat our enemies.”

“Do you trust him?” Ulrich went right to the crux of the matter.

Ella’s voice failed her, for here was her father: an honoured Oberon, a man she revered, asking her, as another Oberon - as an equal, what was the only really important question that mattered. Ella felt hope and the renewal of love grow in her heart. ‘Wait ten minutes!’ She’d been told. ‘Had I know I’d have waited a lifetime, that panther is the most aggravating, frustrating … endearing friend I’ve ever had,’ reasoned out Ella who smiled due to it.

“How can I not?” started to explain Ella. “Sure he’s an enigma, I don’t understand him fully, but he undoubtedly cares deeply about the Were.” She paused hoping her father could understand, then added: “He doesn’t want power, Cameron avoids attention and stays out of the limelight.”

“And what of the Panther?” sought Ulrich, ever the practical man, his question no doubt a result of his dispute with the girl.

“Lynn hasn’t sought a position, she has gone out of her way to stay away from tribal council, so far she has shunned being drawn into leadership,” informed Ella, it was a situation she had noticed and pondered over.

“Why would she deny a place at the table?” as Oberon, he had assumed the couple would assume leadership of the Were, usher in the new age.

“My guess is she’s looking at a much bigger picture,” postulated Ella at the conundrum

“What could be more important that helping the Were?” countered her father.

“I dunno: her boyfriend, saving the world, finishing high school maybe. Take your pick,” sounded out Ella, not having come to an adequate solution herself.

“As long as it’s something worthwhile, something an Oberon can sink their teeth into.” Ulrich Oberon smiled, showing some extended canines.

Ella smiled too, she had her father back.“Glad for the company.”

“So, do you know where we’re going or not?” asked Ulrich, ready for an adventure.

“Nope, but it’s going to be a heck of a ride,” assured Ella.

ARC

Elizabeth Carson followed the nurse escort provided by the much more reasonable people at Arkham’s reception counter, although tailed by two security guards. It was a better prospect than her earlier encounter with those running the show. The headmistress was curious as to why Dr. Otto and her usual contacts at Arkham weren’t involved directly. A mystery to be sure.

Mrs. Carson followed as she was lead down a series of corridors until reaching an examination room in a far wing of the large complex. Her guide halted in front of a door simply labeled Exam Room 6, and the nurse used her pass card to unlock the extra security measure enacted. The nurse motioned for her to enter while the nurse remained outside, meanwhile the two security guards took position on either side of the doorway.

Entering the examination room the heroine took stock of the situation inside the room, seated in a horseshoe arrangement of couches was five people, three dressed in patient grab the other two wearing doctor whites. Behind the couches stood two more white cloaked doctors who spoke while sipping coffees.

A tall drink of a man wearing patient clothes approached from off the couch, he had a familiarity to him.

“Mrs. Carson,” enthused the man. “It has been a long time since I was a student in your English class. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Marcus Johnson!” her earlier briefing and memory coalesced. “I see you’ve filled out some at last, you were such a bean pole as a lad we feared a stiff breeze would upend you. Still causing trouble I see.”

Marcus Johnson tutted at the rebuke, “Come now Mrs. Carson, When was I ever the cause of trouble?”

Mrs. Carson caught the glint of amusement in the man’s eye, “If I’m not mistaken, there are still flecks of fluorescent pink paint on old Noah Whateley’s statue.”

Marcus reeled at the insinuation, “Shocking bit of vandalism that, did they ever catch the perpetrators?”

Mrs. Carson from all her years as headmistress knew a guilty party when she saw one, but what could she do. “As yet, still another unsolved mystery conspicuously arising from the time Percy Lund and yourself spent at Whateley.”

A warm smile broke across Marcus’ face, “Purely a coincidence I assure you.”

Finally the situation dawned upon Mrs. Carson, these truly weren’t troublemakers, they were in trouble, in need of an ally. “Of course, silly of me. And now that you’ve become a fine upstanding member of society, what is your involvement with the present fiasco?”

Marcus sensed the underlying tone, “Ma’am, I am at a loss to explain this institute’s fascination in my companions and I. So far we have been subjected to rather invasive mental probings. From the results of which, it appears these folks have a great deal of interest focused upon our common association with Cameron Burke.”

The comment heightened the attention of the doctors, initiating one of them to approach, a shorter bald man with wire rim glasses cleared his throat with an ‘Ahem’, his manner and posture implied some annoyance at not being duly included, slighted by Elizabeth’s choice to not address him first. “I don’t wish to intrude, but I must ask; why are you here Mrs. Carson?”

Mrs. Carson quickly attempted to disband a perceived affront, “My apologies, it is always a treat for a teacher to catch up with former students.” Graciously spoke the headmistress. “Would you be Dr. Michaels?”

“I am.” The way the Doctor inflated showed how much he cared about appearances, and how large an ego he carried.

“Doctor, I am here acting as a liaison for the youth who have cordoned themselves off in Arkham’s kitchens, ” informed Mrs. Carson revealing her purpose.

Dr. Michaels: “You’ve spoken with them?” seeking clarification, trying to get a feel for her allegiance.

Mrs. Carson: “Yes, they wish to be allowed to return home.” Condensed the headmistress to simplify the situation.

Dr. Michaels: “Indeed,” scoffed the man. “And I suppose this is to happen without benefit of a psychological assessment from this facility?”

Mrs. Carson: “They are not willing subjects.” Which highlighted a point of contention, the doctor winced at hearing an objection.

Dr. Michales: “That’s not an issue to be concerned with, they are victims of an insidious mental coercion, to let them leave would be a gross endangerment of society, not to mention the risk it presents for themselves.”

Mrs. Carson: “They’re Canadian, and just wish to return home. Couldn’t you let them go, or maybe hand them over to Canadian authorities, let it become their problem?” It was a reasonable solution as ARC has offices in Canada. As intermediary, Elizabeth was looking to find middle ground.

Dr. Michaels: “No, No! That just won’t do.” From his reaction, he was appalled at the very idea. “The problem goes beyond borders, we are facing an unclassified mutation, one that must be carefully studied and documented. So far the number exposed is small, but the depth of mental affliction is unlike any telepathy we’ve ever encountered.” It was obvious to Elizabeth that the man was hiding something, still he was playing his cards close to his chest, with this guy it felt like two and two equaled seven.

Dr. Richmond: “All evidence is pointing to a type of psychic mutant who can twist the fabric of reality itself. These three men have each related accounts while under observation that simply cannot be construed as possible. The fallacy they purport to have witnessed is now so ingrained into their psyche, it could take months, perhaps up to a year of therapy to dislodge. I agree with Michaels, we need access to the source if we hope to help these people.” A coconspirator if Elizabeth had ever heard one.

Mrs. Carson: “You’re saying they need psychiatric help. That they are all part of some mass - what? Conspiracy? Illusion? And Cameron Burke is to blame?”

Dr. Richmond: “It is fortuitous that you discovered this malignancy, and thankfully brought it to our attention. Until we can examine how this compulsive behaviour was instigated, we can’t undo the damage. It is imperative we have immediate access to Mr. Burke. Will you tell us where he is?”

Mrs. Carson: “I don’t know his whereabouts. I had assumed he would have been brought here with his friends.”

Dr. Michaels: “Too bad, I’m afraid without patient zero at our disposal, we must keep his known associates contained.”

Mrs. Carson: “Because of this mental conditioning? How does it manifest?”

Dr. Richmond: “It appears in each subject has a belief that some incredible event occurred, some miracle performed to or in front of them. A notion has been mentally implanted fully convincing them that this actually happened, despite it being scientifically impossible.”

Mrs. Carson: “Couldn’t that be attributable to faith?”

Dr. Michaels: “Mrs. Carson,” tsked the man in disdain. “We are men of science, we do not believe in fairy tales like some primitive ape. If something is unknown to us, it is only because we have not examined it thoroughly enough to quantify it. Mr. Burke might have a few tricks up his sleeve, but we will expose him, it is our solemn duty.”

Dr. Richmond: “Tell me Mrs. Carson, have you had direct interaction with Cameron Burke?”

Mrs, Carson: “On two occasions, neither had been very productive.”

Dr. Richmond: “How so?”

Mrs. Carson: “I spoke with him in my office once, it resulted in a misunderstanding. Recently we had an argument at my school’s gate, again another misunderstanding.”

Dr. Michaels: “At any time, had his eyes been uncovered?”

Mrs. Carson: “I’ve never seen his eyes. I understand they glow.”

Dr. Michaels: “I recommend you undergo an evaluation just to be safe. Dr. Richmond, would you do the honours?”

~o~O~o~

It was only ten minutes later that Mrs Carson was released from being interviewed - interrogated, it wasn’t what she had expected. As she came out of the interview room, she was directed over to the couches where the three men had remained sitting. All the doctors then formed a huddle, holding a private conversation between themselves.

Elizabeth found the three men relaxing, spread out over the couches waiting for a verdict to be made. It surprised Elizabeth to see them act so calmly, to be cooped up, treated like guinea pigs. It showed a level of restraint unexpected from a group of extremists, her first impression of the group back at Whateley.

Roche the large French Canadian Brick, had laid back on the couch and fallen asleep, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Ken Tallman; a handsome first nation man was, for his part, engrossed in a worn and tattered magazine. Elizabeth doubted he was truly engaged in something so obviously boring, it was no doubt an act to deflect attention. Curiously, Elizabeth’s focus fell upon Marcus Johnson, who was amusing himself by humming music and tapping in time on the armrest he leaned against, but it was his eyes, those constantly scanned the room and all those within.

Sitting down, Mrs. Carson chose the open spot at the end of Roche’s couch, across from Marcus. Once comfortable she leaned forward and spoke in conspiratorial tones, not wanting to draw the doctor’s dubious attention.

“There’s something seriously wrong here,” confided Mrs. Carson. “It’s nothing more than a witch hunt.”

“You’re a magic user, is that why they set their sights on you?” responded Marcus.

Mrs. Carson looked appalled from the suggestion, then smirked, “I can see that I’m going to have to be careful with that expression around the mystic arts staff in the future.”

“Terminology from a bygone age, to be sure,” smiled back Marcus. “That didn’t take very long, did they find any crazy thoughts when they rummaged around inside your head?”

Mrs. Carson: “I didn’t seem to trigger any alarms, granted I haven’t been in Outlook’s company very much.”

Ken Tallman leaned in closer, making it look like he was getting another magazine, but asking, “You’ve spoken to the kids? How are they?”

Mrs. Carson: “They managed to break out of whatever confinement they had been placed into, then they sealed themselves off in the cafeteria.”

“I can only imagine the mayhem they’ve created.” Sighed the stepparent of three mischief loving children.

Mrs. Carson: “I must admit, for a group of untrained powered youth, they have shown great restraint. I only noticed a single broken window.”

Ken: “What are they thinking? Provoking these people.”

Mrs. Carson: “They have a rather clever plan honestly, by preventing this facility from accessing food preparation. It forces Arkham into a corner, there are plenty of hungry mouths to feed.”

Ken: “I don’t get it. Why did they chose you to speak on their behalf?”

“I volunteered my services, mind you - I first underwent a lie detector test, double teamed by a Psychic and PreCog to demonstrate my sincerity.”

Marcus: “They trust you?”

Mrs. Carson: “I am not your enemy, even though I’ve made mistakes. The fact is, I came to help get you all released.”

Marcus: “That is beginning to feel less and less likely to happen.” It was an admission, gleaned from the snippets he’d overheard.

Mrs. Carson: “Something just doesn’t add up here. Why are they doing this?”

Roche: “Small fish - big pond,” responded the man who remained reclined and still appeared asleep.

Ken: “What do you mean?”

“For a scientist to establish the importance of their work, they need to make themselves irreplaceable. It’s like when a politician gets his name in the news to remain relevant. Or an actor needing more impressive and bigger roles so as to stay popular. Scientists have to make big discoveries in order to get noticed and secure funding.”

Mrs. Carson: “So what is it that they hope to achieve?”

Roche: “To use us as incentive. We are their only connection to an as yet undiscovered ability. They want to get hold of Cameron. These clowns must figure he’ll make them famous, and they’re small enough fish that they aren’t above breaking a few laws to see their name in print.”

Mrs. Carson: “You’re serious?”

Roche: “How many times did each of you get asked where Cameron was? They asked me eight times, think about it - a psychic asking the same question eight times.”

“I was asked four times if I knew where Cameron was.” She mumbled in disbelief at the revelation. “I hadn’t suspected it meant anything important.”

Ken: “So we’re to be held … bait on a hook left to dangle, until they get ahold of Cameron.”

Roche: “I’m tired of waiting around, we gotta bust outta here.”

Marcus: “Al, I feel the same way. But let’s say we broke out, what would these people do to the kids? We need to escape all together, otherwise …”

Roche: “Yeah, I get it. Defusing a hostage situation 101; don’t escalate a confrontation. I just never figured I’d be the one held hostage.”

The Pit

‘So that’s their solution,' mused Cameron: ‘cut me off entirely: no air, water, food, or energy, supposing I’ll eventually succumb to at least one of those. Overall a pretty sound plan, could even work given enough time, problem is - I’m not ready to die, not here, not like this. Not to mention that I doubt the others they’ve got down here are ready to give up either,’ reasoned Cameron.

‘And here I was hoping they’d at least play a game with me for a while, so I could at least get a feel for who it is up there. Instead they just up and pulled the plug; walked away like a bunch of crybabies, not very sporting of them.’ At that, Cameron opened his cell door and walked down the hallway to investigate those in the next cells.

He watched the first prisoner who was one of the possessed mutants, it was curled up sulking in one of the cell’s dark corners. Its head was near to its knees, with his hands held together over his head, it was making a rocking motion as it cowered from its plight.

Next down the tunnel in the next closest cell was the other avatar, this guy had a large body which was laying upon that cells cot, overall this one was so big he overflowed the bed, arms spilled out and touched the floor. His proportions gave him an inhuman look, more animal in appearance. Not the first time Cameron had seen such distortions, but even so, it grieved the boy.

Cameron was torn, he wasn’t all that keen to letting those two out of their prison cells, even if he didn’t know what they might have done. Just the same the reputations these possessed individuals earned warranted imprisonment. However, Cameron wasn’t judge, jury, nor executioner. Nor was he fool enough to trust them, they could wait.

The third occupied cell down in this dungeon held the psychic, Cameron observed a middle aged man who paced his cell, walking briskly from one end to other - in the dark, he would walk without fear right up to a wall, stop just shy of it, turn, then march to the other side. This man had been incarcerated long enough to become familiar with every inch of his cell. He finished his walking to then drop to the floor to begin a routine of push-ups.

Cameron opened the prison cells door. “Hello,” he called out to the man disrupting his exercises.

“Who are you?” asked the man within the dark cell, halting his push-up in puzzlement.

“I go by Outlook,” responded Cameron.

“Call me John, it’s as good a name as any, I take it you can see in the dark?” The man repositioned himself into sitting cross legged on the floor, facing the direction of Cameron’s voice.

“Yes,” confirmed Cameron. “Why do they have you locked up?”

“I’m psychic, I can read abilities. I was being used to rate mutants before auction. They discovered that I was intentionally underrating mutants, which undervalued them,” informed John.

“They’re selling mutants?” reacted Cameron in horror to the unfolding story into which he’d gotten dumped.

John: “The higher rated an ability, the more they’re worth.”

“Who sells them?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t told, at least not that I remember. I was only ever part of the auctioning team, until what I was doing was discovered which got me put down here.”

“Describe this auction?”

“New mutants would get brought in and held until an auction was scheduled. I would be used to sort them into appropriate confinement. Then at the auction I would provide a classification and level rating, before the bidding would commence.”

Cameron: “Who would buy a mutant?”

“The bidders came from everywhere; countries, organizations, any agency out there you can name. Many of them are regular customers who would get programs listing which types of mutants would be available to buy. How else do you imagine mad scientists get test subjects, or where evil geniuses find minions. It's how governments source soulless agents to do their dirty deeds.”

Cameron: “But - That’s slavery!”

“All part of the service, once bought a mutant gets a courtesy mind wipe. The auction keeps a stock of psychics on hand, the buyer receives a nice pliable mindless slave to manipulate as needed,” explained John about the procedure used. “Just so you know, The brainwash is extremely effective, I have no recollection about who I am. I could walk past my own family and not know who they are.” He paused for a moment of reflection before adding: “I think it’s the reason why everybody wears masks, so nobody gets recognized.”

“Why did you underrate mutant abilities?”

“I hoped those kids could find a way to escape. Break those bonds and get free.”

“All right John, how do you feel about escaping?”

“I’d like that, very much. But the problem is - there’s only one way out of Hell, in a body bag. Nobody has ever come back from Hell: alive. We’re at the bottom of an old abandoned mine shaft, you just can’t leave.”

“Do you know what’s above us?”

“Some of it, there’s two levels of tunnels lined with cages to hold new mutants, then a third level where the auction is held, I was housed with a bunch of other psychics there. I always imagined a fourth level above that for all the security guards, I just never saw it. But Hell’s only accessed by a singe shaft which is on the bottom level.”

“Good to know. John, would you mind staying put for a short while? There are other prisoners down here with us that I should check on before we start making plans.”

“I can help.”

“Best not, one of them is enshrouded in a black goop that overwhelms people on sight. I should handle that alone.”

“You’re right, I’ve heard of them. One of the bidders who bought plenty of mutants bragged about having some of those as pets. So I’ll stay right here! Would you mind locking the door again?”

Cameron sealed John’s door once he’d closed it, he then stepped over to the last of the occupied cells. The Voodoo Wolf was still circling within the cell, it appeared that it too was unaffected by the absence of light. Cameron formed a sturdy metal wall he could use as a protective shield, he set up a protective shelter behind the cells door. The door could still swing open, yet the newly made wall provided a barrier behind which Cameron could stay out of reach.

Once the security code was entered to unlock the door, Cameron pulled the cell’s door open just a slight amount, then he ducked behind cover. The corrupted Were moved forward cautiously, investigating the change but staying within the cell at first, testing before pushing the door open further. Then the black goop covered Were was gone in a blink, rushing down the corridor to the elevator shaft. It must have sensed how to escape because it quickly began to scramble upward, it formed additional legs with spiked tips, the corrupted beast moved assuredly like a spider as it climbed upward.

It moved so fast that in no time it had reached the explosives, it stepped around the packages without effort avoiding the trap, soon enough it was out of sight. Cameron moved cautiously over to the shaft’s entrance and looked up, the black enshrouded Were had already scaled half the distance and was still making rapid progress.

One problem solved, it might not be ideal, setting a dangerous foe loose, but sometimes you have limited choices with which to work. Whatever might be above, dealing with a Voodoo Wolf on a rampage would certainly be challenging.

Cameron decided to continue keeping his eyes hidden, no point driving those avatars into a frenzy. He opened the door to the first of the possessed avatars, that prisoner was still rolled up in a corner. “Do you want out?” Cameron asked.

“As opposed to?” it whined.

“Staying here,” posed Cameron, shaking his head in disbelief since it should be obvious.

“It’s dark,” it further objected.

“I noticed,” affirmed Cameron.

“Turn on the lights,” more whining coming from the figure who remained in the corner, not helping!

“Not my doing,” explained an increasingly annoyed Cameron.

“Then what good are you?” moped the seriously moody inmate.

“I opened the door,” asserted Cameron, quite ready to close said door again at this point.

“Fat lot of good that does,” it exuded such pleasantry, a real charming individual!

“By all means then, stay here,” stated Cameron, not having found any redeeming qualities to work with.

“Where’s Bobo?” it asked.

“What’s a bobo?” questioned Cameron, not really expecting he'd enjoy the answer.

“My partner, big guy, we got caught and locked up together,” it informed.

“He’s next door,” offered Cameron, sighing at the news the two were in cahoots.

“Why didn’t you say so,” it snapped, arrogance or ignorance wondered Cameron at the Avatar’s comment.

The prisoner unfurled himself, his face was distorted with snout type features like a weasel or ferret, he straightened to show an elongated narrow body and a thin rat like tail. Another unfortunate deviation wrent upon a human body from a spirit inhabiting it. The Avatar moved towards the open door but walked into the wall face first before reaching out to feel for the opening.

“This way,” directed Cameron in the darkness, providing his voice to bring them both to the next cell.

Cameron coded the door to unlock it and swung it open.

“Bobo?” called out the weasel.

After having watched him, Cameron saw for a certainty now from how he acted; definitely a weasel.

“Pascal?” said the large guy inside the cell, sitting upon his cot. “Took you long enough, why’d you turn out the lights?” he demanded. As he stood, it became all the more apparent that he was disproportionately large, sadly misshapen, yet another mutant who got altered from hosting a spirit.

From the overall shape of him he looked like a great bulky grey gorilla, with long arms, patches of bristly hair, wide chest, and a pronounced forehead. He wore the ragged remains of a shirt that was missing sleeves which looked to have been ripped off.

The weasel skulked behind Cameron to avoid the menacing overbearance, but still managed to whine, “Don’t blame me! There was no way to pick the lock. It’s this kid who busted us out.” The weasel even pushed Cameron forward to be the recipient of any angry outburst Bobo might erupt into.

“It’s still dark!” insisted Bobo with a growl.

“Doesn’t bother me,” inserted Cameron.

“Well it drives me crazy!” shouted Bobo. “I can’t see anything.”

“Not much to see,” assured Cameron.

“That’s not the point,” grumbled the large gorilla.

“I’m gonna go let the last guy out of his cell,” informed Cameron as he maneuvered past Pascal to start walking down the tunnel, this situation was unfolding in a manner not to his liking.

Opening John’s cell door again, Cameron called out, “How you doing John?” interrupting the man’s sit-ups.

“A lot better. What’s the plan?”

“I released all the prisoners, there are two others down here with us.”

“What happened to the one in black goop?”

“He took off and climbed up the mine shaft. We’re going to have to do the same, air’s already getting thin.”

“I’ll do my part.”

“Good! Come on, we’ll get organized over at the shaft door.”

Cameron lead the prisoners single file down the tunnel to the open area, stopping in front of the mine shaft entrance. It still wouldn’t be productive to show them his glowing eyes, having to contend with two raging avatars in a confined space was not a problem Cameron needed to deal with at present. One problem at a time, best way to keep moving forward, he kept his visor on.

After checking the scant contents of the drawers in the small kitchen, and finding nothing useful, Cameron brought out from his own cupboard a small bundle of emergency wax candles along with a packet of matches. He handed these to John, who with difficulty managed to strike a match and light one of the candles, abating the darkness to some small measure with the single flame.

As soon as there was light Bobo roared, scattering those in proximity. He stalked John, pushing him back against a rock wall then forcefully grabbing the lit candle, demanding that the remaining bundle also be handed over to him. Bobo then began to order Pascal around, having him collect the acetylene torch’s air lines up, as he assessed the shaft and pushed away anyone who interfered. Cameron and John being disregarded as offal, not to be included in his escape plan.

The gorilla and the weasel began to prepare themselves for an ascent, using the hose from the cutting torch, they tied it around themselves. They started by standing back to back, wrapping the hose around their chests so arms and legs could be used to climb with.

They moved at a snails pace, attempting to coordinate movement. By pressing both pairs of legs against the shafts wall, then using arms to shift themselves up a few inches at a time, it was ungainly and awkward, but they did make progress, however not without slipping now and again thereby losing ground.

It was painful to watch, and listen to, the further up they went the more angry the gorilla became. Bobo shouted loudly at his partner Pascal, who made whimpering sounds. Cameron shouted up to them: “Watch out for boobytraps!” His caution was ignored, aside from a steady stream of curses, there was no indication his warning had been heeded.

It took a long time for the two to have gotten some distance, John sat quietly on the floor, listening as the sound faded, with it went his best hope for escape, going without him. Cameron took off his visor letting the cast light illuminate the tunnel, much to John’s surprise. The reveal pushed back the darkness to show just how dire the situation was.

“You didn’t want those two to know?” questioned John.

“No point in antagonizing them, I suspected they would only be interested in saving themselves,” supplied Cameron. “We should move away from the shaft.”

“Why?” John asked in puzzlement.

Cameron detailed the situation. “Some explosives got placed in the shaft, Those two are so clumsy, I’m certain they’ll set them off.”

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” enthused John.

“I tried to warn them, sometimes that’s all that can be done. I can’t prevent people from exercising their free will, even when possessed,” explained Cameron.

Cameron brought John into his modified cell, offering him what food he could from his meagre stores. It wasn’t long before a bang shook the hard rock prison, followed by a huge amount of black rock collapsing into the shaft, spilling out onto the prison’s floor. It was as Cameron feared, Bobo and Pascal had gotten up to the explosives and triggered them.

Cameron and John stepped out into the debris field that had spread out over the tunnel’s floor and completely choked up the narrow entrance. The explosion resulted in blocking up the mine shaft, huge sections of rock dislodged and now sealing up the only exit.

To make matters worse, a large hand stuck out from underneath tons of black rock, it quivered briefly. Cameron sighed at the futility of attempting a rescue. Instead he brought out his sword, the bright golden light acting like a brilliant beacon, the blade thrust deep into the pile of rock. When Cameron lifted it out, speared onto the blade was a wraith.

The wraith screeched and writhed, it was very much alive, the host not so. Cameron formed an oblong egg shaped vessel from the black rock. It stood about three feet high and was supported by the rock laying around. Within the egg Cameron materialized a thin gold lining no thicker than tinfoil, but it made the innards bright as it reflected the light from the boys eyes.

Then, Cameron swiftly stuffed the wraith into the vessel, withdrawing his sword as he sealed up the egg. When Bobo’s exposed hand went still, Cameron repeated the process.

Cameron joined John, sitting at an uncluttered space against a tunnel wall, they looked across at the two eggs, visible in the glow from Cameron’s eyes. John looked at the two odd shaped containers, silent in contemplation until stating:

“It looks like Bobo had a booboo.”

“I tried to warn them,” admitted Cameron feeling sorrow and sorry at life’s cruelty.

“I never saw one of those outside a body,” mused John at what had transpired.

“They aren’t supposed to inhabit a person,” confided Cameron. Then added, “It violates free will.”

John mulled the notion around, then asked, “Are they dead?”

“The mutants they inhabited couldn’t be saved, I put those spirits into holding cells to face judgement later.”

“We’re not getting out of here, are we?” asked John as he sized up the situation.

ARC

Rachelle: “So what’s our move?”

Lynn: “I’m guessing you’ve sensed that Mrs. Carsons efforts are proving futile?”

“She hasn’t gotten any traction, nobody’s listening to her, they aren’t taking her - us seriously. Security has just received orders to move in. How are we going to stop an incursion?”

Lynn: “We don’t. Mrs. Carson was a long shot at best; I calculated she had only a twenty percent chance of success. But you have to admit: she did try.”

Timothy: “So you had us put our hopes in a dead end?”

Lynn: “Where there’s hope there’s always a chance, so don’t ever give up hope.”

Charlotte: “What are we supposed to do in now?”

Lynn: “The avenues left open to us have narrowed down considerably, but we’ve still got options.”

R.E.D.: “How do you mean?”

Lynn: “As it so happens, we have three viable possibilities: Stand and fight, run and hide, or bluff our way out.”

Rachelle: “Which has the …”

Lynn: “Greatest potential for success - you would ask that.”

Rachelle: “So I like knowing the odds.”

“Okay, it breaks down this way: Fighting them off is a fifty/fifty proposition at best, it could work but three of us will suffer injuries necessitating medical attention - that outcome will require turning ourselves in so we can get help. As for running and hiding, that would result in us needing to separate, since we don’t know which direction to head, we will eventually lose contact with each other and wander aimlessly until most of us are re-captured.”

Timothy: “But some of us would get away?”

“Yes: Although R.E.D. would end up starting a forest fire, which leads to being subjected to a federal manhunt across three states before getting captured and imprisoned. However, Timothy, you would make it back to Canada at the expense of your sisters capture.”

Rachelle: “What about you?”

Charlotte: “Yeah, you haven’t said nothing about yourself?”

“I succeed to escape in each scenario, that is the nature of precognition. But you are my friends, I’m not willing to leave you in the lurch.”

Rachelle: “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

R.E.D.: “Me too.”

Timothy: “All of us.”

Rachelle: “What about the guys? We can’t leave without Marcus.”

R.E.D.: “And Roche and Ken, they are … family.”

Lynn: “That is where bluffing our way out is perhaps our best option. If we do it right, there is a window for us all to escape.”

R.E.D.: “So - how do we do it?”

Lynn: “Which?”

Charlotte: “Bluff our way out.”

Lynn: “I’m open to ideas.”

Timothy: “Wait, What? You tell us we can bluff our way out, and not know how?”

“Precognition is like standing in a room of mirrors, each mirror is a reflection of yourself after having made a single choice, once taken then all the mirrors shift to the next now. The problem is figuring out which choice gives you the best outcome.”

Rachelle: “No wonder I can’t get a read on your mind, it’s always in flux.”

R.E.D.: “Hence the word flummoxed?”

Lynn: “It can be so confusing and frustrating having to look at hundreds of thousands of possibilities, it’s so much easier to give directions to someone else if they make the choice.”

R.E.D.: “Someone like Cameron?”

Lynn: “Sure, he has such a defined sense of morals. With him, I just get to be a compass and point him in the right direction.”

Charlotte: “Are you really going to marry him?”

“I’d like to, in time, if he’ll have me.”

Rachelle: “That sounds like a whole lot of maybe, for someone who see’s the future that is.”

“Every decision has the potential to go entirely wrong, I can only try and nudge things along. What I do know is, that there are many paths where Cameron and I share a future, but there are some that don’t end up so well. So I am paddling the currents of time trying to arrive at a good outcome.”

R.E.D.: “How do you know what a good outcome is?”

Lynn: “People don’t die, or, at least, as few as possible. I’ve found that’s the best I can hope for, I can’t save everyone.”

Charlotte: “So, when we escape, will anyone die?”

Lynn: “Do you want somebody to die?”

Charlotte: “No, I mean I’m not happy that we’ve been locked up, but I don’t want to kill anybody.”

Lynn: “Good, I hope that’s an agreeable outcome with everyone.”

Timothy: “I think I speak for everyone, we don’t want to stay, and we don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“That gives me something to aim for. Now then, who’s got a brilliant idea on how we blow this popsicle stand.”

Charlotte: “I didn’t get a popsicle,” said with puppy dog eyes and pouty face.

Rachelle: “It’s just an expression.”

Timothy: “I’d like a popsicle too,” met with rolled eyes from his twin sister.

R.E.D.: “Cherry! I like cherry.”

Lynn: “Not helping people! Once we get out of here, we’ll all find some nice popsicles to celebrate with.”

Charlotte: “I saw an episode of Scooby-Doo where he and the gang dressed up like ghosts to catch the guys who also dressed up like ghosts so they couldn’t tell who was who.”

“Let me be perfectly clear, at no time, is anyone - ever - going to compare me to a dog. I am a cat, a beautiful midnight black panther, a creature of cunning and mystery and nobility. Nobody’s ever to confuse an obviously brilliant, stealthy, ferocious panther with some idiot dog that idolizes food.”

Timothy: “You seemed mighty taken with tapioca pudding earlier,” which earned him a glare from the Werecat.

R.E.D.: “And what? Does that make me Shaggy then?” harrumphed the tall exemplar girl at the unwelcome insinuation.

Charlotte raised her hand and requested, “Can I be Daphne?”

Rachelle: “Focus people. Let’s not put the horse before the cart.”

R.E.D.: “Umm, I thought that’s where you’re supposed to put the horse.”

Lynn: “Does anybody have a better idea than some harebrained scheme stolen from a Saturday morning cartoon?”

Rachelle: “Actually, Charlotte might be onto something,” even if it was admitted with chagrin.

Charlotte: “Oh goody, I get to be Daphne.”

Rachelle: “No, I mean disguising ourselves. Besides, if anyone looks like Daphne, it’s me.”

Charlotte: “You don’t look good in Purple.”

Rachelle stuck out her tongue at her younger sister, to which she received the same in reply.

Timothy: “Do you honestly want me to be the voice of reason?”

Lynn: “We have ten minutes, tops, before they bust down doors and come for us. We need a plan!”

Rachelle: “If we stick close together, I might be able to deflect attention away from us.”

R.E.D.: “You suggest we hide in plain sight?”

Rachelle: “Sorta, have you ever seen how they do special effects in movies, when the actors stand in front of green screens?”

The girl received mixed affirmation about what she meant.

Rachelle: “Right, well, I can confuse people’s perceptions so they don’t see me.”

Charlotte: “So that’s how come you always win playing hide and seek. You cheated!”

Rachelle: “I can try to make it so nobody notices us.”

R.E.D.: “Are you sure it will work?”

“Well, I’ve only ever done it with myself before, but with a boost from Charlotte, and as long as nobody wanders off, I think it’s possible.”

Timothy: “There’s a cupboard full of tablecloths, would it help if we were covered?”

Rachelle: “Yeah, that would be good, there would be less to mask - but … how do we convince them that we’re not here in the first place.”

Lynn: “Decoy’s! We need to give them something to capture that’ll hold their attention, so they don’t suspect anything.”

R.E.D.: “Everybody head into the kitchen, select an object to act as a decoy.”

Charlotte: “Why?” Asked the confused girl.

R.E.D.: “Those objects are going to be our proxies, when they storm us, Rachelle will convince them that they have captured us, take our proxies, leaving us alone.” Summarized the tall girl, her flame strobed hair increasing in frequency at the prospect of action.

Charlotte: “I’d rather open up a big ol’ can o’ whup a…”

Rachelle: “Excelle, we talked about that. There’s too great a probability that someone would get injured, not everyone is super-strong like you, so they can get hurt, badly. Besides, it’s your idea.”

Charlotte: “Oh! That wouldn’t be good, So does this mean I get to be Daphne after all?”

Rachelle: “Fine, you’re Daphne, I’m Velma, and Tim is Shaggy.”

Timothy: “Hey, If anything I’m a Fred.”

Charlotte: “I was thinking R.E.D. since it sorta rhymes with Fred.”

R.E.D.: “I am unsure if that is acceptable or not, I always cheered for the dog.”

Charlotte: “It’s settled then.”

Lynn: “If Rachelle can hold up the illusion long enough, we can walk right out the door without anyone realizing.”

R.E.D.: “What do we have to do?”

Rachelle: “Once everyone has found something that has some weight to it, bring it here, that will help convince them it’s us.”

A search was made in the kitchen, sacks of flour, rice and potatoes got selected as good replacements for Charlotte, Rachelle and Lynn, R.E.D chose three large watermelons which she skewered onto a broom handle.

Timothy found a large burlap bag and filled it with pots and pans, using towels to lessen the noise. All the mock teenager dummies got placed in the lunch room to draw security’s attention. Charlotte used a marker pen to draw faces on the decoys to contribute to the deceit’s effectiveness.

Lastly, once ready, they had Charlotte float up at head height so they could drape tablecloths over her, then R.E.D. would move Charlotte around slowly allowing the others to stay huddled underneath while Rachelle blocked them from view.

As they waited for the room to be breached, Charlotte began to giggle, causing the tablecloths to wiggle, resulting in her siblings shushing her.

“I can’t help it,” complained Charlotte.

Timothy: “What’s gotten into you?”

Charlotte: “I was just thinking: it’s curtains for us.”

Her comment won a few groans and chuckles, however the mood changed quickly when the attack happened. Riot gear clad people stormed the room, breaking down doors, smashing through windows, they showed no mercy.

Tranquilizers got fired at the decoys, When R.E.D. peaked through a small opening in the linens, she was furious to see that someone had shot her proxy between the eyes. A tranquilizer dart was sticking into the face Charlotte had drawn on the watermelon.

Rachelle retained her deep concentration, aided by Charlotte touched her sister providing both an emotional and power boost. Rachelle focused upon all who had entered the room in order to implant a mental illusion. As far as any of the assault team members knew, they had bagged the errant teens without fuss. When the medics showed up, Rachelle went to work on them before they restrained and secured the decoys onto gurneys.

The room slowly emptied as the different staff members finished their tasks, it was however left a horrible mess, tables and chairs strewn every which way. Giving oversight, Security flashed badges and gave exuberant high-fives to each other, pride at a job well done. As porters finally arrived to clear the scene, the time had come for stage two of the teens’ plan.

The gurneys got wheeled out of the room, the cue for the gang to leave. Even from the heightened anxiety of the moment no one had paid any attention to that one section of the room. Now huddled behind the wall of material, the teens anticipation of being discovered grew, and they fought to keep silent.

But the teens remained unseen, Rachelle with her expanded abilities, fooled everyone; it was as if there was a blank void that didn’t bear investigating. As a result, if someone did look towards them their eyes got drawn elsewhere. After the first rush of activity in the room, and once the cluster at the doorway too had abated, the gang shuffled further along down hallways. Long corridors indicating how massive this facility was unfolded as the gang followed the decoy laden gurneys.

It had taken some teamwork to finally get everyone into step and move as one, but once accomplished, Rachelle could sustain the mental mirage. The gurneys ahead of them finally arrived at a small open area, the orderlies standing at the ready while three more of the movable tables joined the procession. These held the sedated Ken and Marcus, and a disgruntled Al who though conscious, had allowed himself to be taken.

Two doctors wearing white coats approached the collection of subjects, with the orderlies snapping to attention. Rachelle redoubled her effort, implanting her compulsion of illusion upon the physicians. The doctors gave the restrained and sedated gurney’s occupants a cursory inspection before providing direction, “Take them to Red Section”.

R.E.D.: “Do we follow?”

Lynn checked the prospects, then whispered, “No. I don’t see us succeeding if we do. They are being taken to a high security zone.”

Rachelle: “I’m not going to be able to keep this up, too many minds are getting added.”

Lynn: “We won’t be able to escape if we go there. Our best hope is to come back for them later. We’ve lost our window.”

The group stayed hidden, unmoving, taking shallow breaths to minimize revealing their position. Waiting with heavy hearts they hated to consider how, despite their best efforts with doppelgängers, their friends were slipping away.

Roche looked right at them from his gurney, and motioned for them to get lost with a free hand, he smiled at them under their disguise, and gave them a thumbs up before he got pushed into an elevator. As the doors closed Roche and the rest of the teens’ friends disappeared from view, ending the hope of reuniting with family, for now.

It was Charlotte who spoke first, the girl who was being used as the drapery’s support beam over who the tablecloths had been draped, asking, “Which way?”

Tim peeked through a crack in the linen cover and he spotted an exit sign posted on a door at the end of a corridor, opposite to the direction the decoys had been taken. “This way” he motioned, and helped move the bundle of cloth at a steady pace down the hall.

The door was closed, but had a panic bar for an easy departure. However, alarm contacts would alert security if the door opened. It took R.E.D. a minute to bypass the wires by melting the security alarm devices off the door. She couldn’t be one hundred percent certain it would work, so asked, “Ready?” to get assent from everyone.

A nod from each was granted, then the door was pushed open. There was no immediate indicator, no loud klaxon sounding, to say it had been unsuccessful. Nonetheless, the youth all sprinted away from the building. In the process most of the tablecloths covering them got shucked, only two being retained to act as outerwear wrapped around Rachelle and Tim’s shoulders.

It was dusk, the sun had set and night was upon them. Charlotte took to the air and did a quick scan of the area from her vantage point, whistling softly to get her teammates attention. She pointed them to a wooded area to give them cover. Tim zipped off doing reconnaissance. He returned to say the whole facility was fenced and they would still need to scale a ten foot high barrier.

Part of the group’s new dilemma centred upon where they would go? Being free was only part of the problem. With no transportation or identification, or even decent clothes, getting home wasn’t going to be easy.

“Might I be of assistance?” called out a hushed yet authoritative voice from above. Through the trees Mrs. Carson came down into view. She landed a few feet from the huddled group that had ducked down when the voice spoke out.

“Is there a town nearby?” asked Timothy

“Do you have shoes? Coats? Money? It’s going to get cold tonight,” admonished Mrs. Carson at the lack of preparation.

The teens looked at each other, realizing they only wore paper slippers and thin cotton pyjamas which ARC had put them into. Even the linens didn't help much to prevent the cold’s creep.

“What do you suggest?” asked R.E.D.

“I can give you a ride, my car is in the parking lot,” offered Mrs. Carson.

“Does it have a heater?” questioned a now shivering Charlotte.

R.E.D. moved in close hugging the cold girl, Flambes’s hands glowing an orange hue to help warm her up.

Rachelle: “Where would you take us?”

Mrs. Carson: “I can offer you protection at Whateley Academy.”

“Rachelle?” asked Lynn, seeking an assurance from the telepath.

“She’s sincere in her desire to help us,” reassured Rachelle.

“It’s not a trap,” foresaw Lynn. “But I won’t make the decision for everyone.”

The impromptu vote taken by the group, had them follow Mrs. Carson to her car. She had parked it in a lonely part of the lot, away from prying eyes and security cameras. The car was a smaller size four door model, it could seat three across the back seat - but they needed to be friendly. The trifecta of trouble, being siblings, climbed into the back, begrudgingly, because Tim had called shotgun.

The front seat had just enough leg room for R.E.D. to squeeze in, but there was no space left for Lynn. All eyes turned to Lynn, who gave a huff then shifted to her house cat sized self, making a display of dissatisfaction as she climbing up onto R.E.D.’s lap.

“Oomph,” exclaimed the level three exemplar. “You’re heavy!”

Lynn gave the fiery haired girl a fierce look with her penetrating green eyes, vocalizing a low long growl. R.E.D made a contrite expression and mouthed, ‘sorry’.

Lynn shifted again, this time into her kitten form. R.E.D. sighed in relief while Mrs. Carson looked on in disbelief, she had never personally witnessed a Were transformation before. Nor had the headmistress ever known that a Were could have multiple forms. What one learns during trying times.

Rachel again masked their presence when the car full of escapees passed thorough the security checkpoint unhindered. Then, into the fading light of day, Mrs. Carson drove. At first conversation was minimal; only after an assurance that no-one had been hurt back at Arkham, did Mrs. Carson stop asking them questions.

However a request for popsicles was made, Mrs. Carson knew better than to ask why. The logic of teenagers would always confound the most scholastically trained minds, she’d tried - goodness knows how she’d tried.

It surprised the headmistress when the tall energizer girl later asked: “I am confused; ‘Scooby’ what does this mean?”

Mrs. Carson: “It’s a jazz reference, it came to mean a smooth musical movement.”

R.E.D.: “I see, interesting. So the dog; Scooby-Doo, he eats many of the Scooby snacks, are these made from prunes?”

Charlotte: “Aren’t they a type of dog biscuit?”

Timothy: “Why?”

R.E.D.: “Again, pardon the confusion, but I believe the English expression Doo refers to relieving oneself.”

Charlotte: “Oh man, does that ever add a whole new dimension to the character Scrappy-Doo.”

R.E.D.: “Perhaps he needs eating more of the Scooby snacks?”

Mrs. Carson shook her head, she really didn’t want to know the who, what, or whys. But still, she couldn’t help breaking into a smile.

As the car rumbled down the dark roadway into the evening hours, a look in the rearview mirror confirmed to the headmistress that all her passengers had fallen asleep. She took it to be a sign of trust - maybe one of hope too. All it had taken was a handful of popsicles, acquired from a roadside convenience store, excitedly eaten, and now long since forgotten by the weary teenagers in favour of sleep.

Such a small price to pay, who knew olive branches were so cheap.

End, Part 3

Woodland, Northern Vermont

Alan stirred from a deep sleep, everything in cat form was better, especially a cat nap which always demanded a good stretch afterwards. He’d noticed how food tasted so much more delightful as a cat, which reminded him, he’d need to hunt soon to keep his strength up.

He enjoyed being in cat form more than human, he could see further as a cat, smell - ahh smells, all the delectable scents each breath announced. Human senses just couldn’t compare to a Werecat's, although; opposable thumbs held merit.

Tracking those who had absconded with Cameron, keeping pace with the vehicle, had taken every bit of strength he possessed. When the cargo van finally stopped in front of the garage door set into a hillside Alan was ready to collapse. But he watched as Cameron was unloaded and taken inside, still unconscious.

The last stretch of road was nothing more than a couple dirt tracks running into the forest, plenty of ‘Keep Out’ and ‘No Trespassing’ signs posted to warn away any casual curious explorers, only a solitary faded old sign spoke of the final destination: Diablo Mining Company.

An exceptionally high fence, strung with ‘Danger’, “Do Not Enter’, and ‘Electric Fence’ signage indicated any unwanted presence was unwelcome. Not that any of those warnings mattered to Alan, nothing so mundane would prevent him from helping Cameron.

Armed guards entered the overhead door and then ensured the single entrance was closed and secured, latched shut. Alan’s fatigue and the gun placements stationed on either side of the bay door created a solidly defended perimeter. That little deterrent had the Were panther reconsider marching right up to the door and rescuing his friend.

It hadn’t taken long to find a tasty morsel for dinner, and in the fading light, Alan had scoped out the place, finding all the camera placements and calculating possible approaches to disable any guns. What he’d found out was that some of those guns turned out to be machine guns, others artillery. This place was a fortress!

What he couldn’t figure out was why? What purpose did it serve? There was next to no traffic to this site. The van he’d followed was still parked outside, but from the look of this place's door, the entrance appeared like a garage.

Alan had had to scramble over a monstrous slag pile while giving the area a once over. The amount of dumped material said this was a huge mine, with underground tunnels possibly reaching for miles.

His ears twitched, something was happening inside, Alan heard gunfire, that was what woke him, cat hearing and all that. The black panther remained motionless, camouflaged up in a tree, his vantage spot letting him see the main door and most of the gunnery ports.

It was night, so the flashes of light at one gun station attracted his attention, it was muzzle flashes, shots being fired, but aimed inside the pillbox not outside at him. Alan heard shouting and shrieks of agony, followed by more flashes of light, followed by an eerie sudden quiet.

It was only due to his cat sight that Alan noticed how a dark mass eked out through the small slit of an opening at a gun placement, he shuddered at the realization: a dark one.

Alan was revolted, to his core he shuddered, he’d seen more than enough of the corrupted, even fought them hand to hand. But he’d been overcome himself, it was a living death, the most vile thing imaginable. Every hair on his body stood on end, call it fear or loathing, this is the enemy. And it was making a bee-line towards him.

Whateley Academy, Teachers Lounge

Elizabeth Carson tipped the lever, letting the enticing dark brew pour into her oversized mug. The aroma promised an elixir to help ease her into yet another day. She’d tried that rat poison the Devisors concocted down in the tunnels; it tasted like powdered coal mixed with gasoline to her. Sure it had a kick like a mule, but coffee was meant to be savoured, each sip a gentle hug on the insides, so as to break a person slowly into the start of a new day.

Now Elizabeth looked over the dining area, scouting out a table. She needed a moment of quiet contemplation to let the dark elixir, her favourite blend, do it’s magic … and a blueberry muffin - damn if those didn’t look good too. So with her mug and a plated muffin the headmistress headed to an empty table near a window.

Mrs. Carson sat with her cup held near her mouth, not drinking yet, just breathing in the rich scent, letting her sense of smell be the first to awaken. She allowed the steam waft into her mind and slowly clear the mental fog left over from too little sleep due to the hectic day yesterday.

After so many years superheroing, Elizabeth had needed to ‘work’ nights since criminals favoured the cover of darkness, mornings still held a challenge for her, something after having a steady day job still remained unresolved.

“Good morning Elizabeth”

Oh no! A morning person. Hadn’t I asked Amelia to ban morning people until after 10 o’clock? Pondered the headmistress. She opened her eyes to look up at the interloper.

“Morning Candace,” was said in greeting. Good? Still a bit too early to tell.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing a table, I had wanted to ask you about the disappearance of a sculpture.”

“Hmmmm” vocalized Liz, a reaction to the warm coffee caressing her tastebuds as opposed to an acknowledgement of what had been said.

“I had been using it as an on-campus teaching aid for my students to draw.”

“Uhmmmm?” Again - coffee, thou mixed with a hint of curiosity.

“One of the harder things for an artist to accurately capture when drawing is depth, taking a 3D object and putting it onto a 2D page to depict angles. The sculpture was a six sided obelisk that I was using as a subject for my students to practise with.”

“Somebody nicked it?”

“I asked Ms. Hartford about the sculpture, she didn’t know what I was talking about … and don’t wag your eyebrows at me. I didn’t steal it.”

“Sorry, my eyebrows and I aren’t on speaking terms until at least my second cup of coffee.”

“Your serious.”

“How is it possible that you’re a morning person?”

“All part of being The Fabulous Imp: art thief extraordinaire, I can get by on as little as two hours sleep.”

“That’s just not fair,” grumbled Mrs. Carson.

“Late night?”

“You could call it that.”

“So? Is it true?”

“Which?”

“That Whateley’s taking in escapee’s from mental institutes.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Well, lemme see. The headmistress arriving late into the night, with a car load of kids only wearing hospital gowns, none of them having sustained injuries but still wrapped up in bedsheets. Tell me if that doesn’t just yell of being your typical school outing. Plus they get squirrelled away in the guest cottage, not one of the student dorms, then you have security acting all ‘hush hush’. So, no, nothing to see here folks, nothing suspicious at all, everything’s copasetic.

“Drama queen much?”

“It’s in my blood, I’m an art teacher after all.”

“Fine, I’m helping a group to evade wrongful incarceration.”

“Sounds like my kind of fun.”

“Which, escaping from a mental institute or evading capture?”

“Both, come to think of it.”

“Perhaps you can help, I need to hide them for a time, just long enough to get them out of the country.”

“Ohhh! The plot thickens.”

“Are you willing to help or not?”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s five teenagers from Canada, I’m thinking to hide them in plain sight at Whateley, having them blend in with the students. But they will need ID’s to get home.

“Are they wanted by the police?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Okay, In my professional opinion, go through proper channels to get their ID’s replaced, that kinda stuff gets lost or stolen all the time. It might take longer than alternate avenues, but won’t create suspicion later.”

“What about credit cards?”

“No, I recommend cash only, and driving across the border rather that flying.”

“It could take a while to get it everything arranged.”

“True, although it shouldn’t take more than a day or two to get passports made, the trick will be getting it all back to Whateley, If you’re crunched for time you can use special delivery instead of snail mail.”

“How special?”

“A Teleporter could get it to us within minutes, but it’s pricy.”

“Courier service in a couple days will do fine, I’d like these kids to see Whateley at it’s finest in the meantime.”

“So … I’m to be expecting some exchange students attend my classes for the next few days.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“I’ll have you know, The Fabulous Imp isn’t just some made up moniker, it’s all true.”

“I appreciate this.”

“Now about that missing sculpture?”

“Can’t you just use ole’ Noah Whateley until we get this sorted out.”

“Strangest thing that, he’s got this pink hue to him, I’ve never seen a bronze casting look like that before.”

“Long story. Would you be willing to oversee acquiring some art to spruce up Whateley?”

“In my professional capacity?”

“As an art expert, naturally.”

“Naturally, Now that I think about it, I spotted a really nice piece in New York.”

“Did you see it at an art gallery?”

“Sure, we can call it that.”

Arkham Research Centre

The mild sedative used to subdue Marcus and Ken had finally worn off leaving a paste like taste in their mouths. Al had to suffer the indignity of having a hood placed over his head, but true to his word, Roche had not attempted to resist. The adults concern over the youth in their charge didn’t allow their actions to jeopardize the kids.

That’s not to say that all three of the men watched in delight when the bags placed into adjacent cells got similar attention as given to all the other prisoners. The three men broke into uproarious laughter whenever they saw the silly faces etched onto the bags and especially the watermelon drawn with its tongue sticking out.

The confused look upon the porters seeing what was actually happening was telling: Rachelle’s work. To not break the compulsion, each of the men began speaking to their supposed companions, reinforcing the mirage upon the minds of their captors. It was difficult for the grown-ups to carry on one sided conversations with the fakes, but it made the day pass with a chuckle.

It was nearly impossible for the men to restrain laughter whenever the doctors came to interview the teenagers imposters. Marcus had to bury his face into his pillow. Only Ken had the wherefore-all of character to sit and watch the professionals psychoanalyze fruit, a sack of pots, or bags of rice or flour.

Al Koenig had tried multiple times prying open his cell, it had been built with Bricks in mind, he couldn’t budge it. So, instead, Marcus had begun to sing and serenade all those wrongfully held. Red Section was gifted with beautiful vocal performances, many joined in with known songs, others seeking to learn how to sing.

The Pit

John sat with his head buried into his hands, his breathing sounding almost like sobs. He had his hopes dashed, when the two avatars left without them, he saw his best chance of escape disappear.

Cameron was busy looking at the mess, the shafts entrance was entirely choked up with rock, debris from the explosives left the shaft blocked, an effective way to ensure nobody escaped. Despite the obvious, Cameron hadn’t succumbed to the futility of the situation, yet.

“John, When you said you could look at a mutant, and see what their power was, can you read their mind telepathically, or do you see something physical about their appearance?”

“I guess you could describe it as each mutant gives off a radiance, the size of glow around someone say’s how powerful they are, while the colour indicates the type of mutation.”

“What do you see, when you look at me?”

“You don’t have any colour around you that I can tell, but your eyes glow gold … what are you?”

“A friend.”

“You weren’t much of a friend to Pascal and Bobo - whoever they were.”

“You have a point, but, you see, for a wraith to inhabit a body it is given permission. So those two made the poor choice of granting entry, unfortunately bad choices have consequences, for some it results in a very bad ending.”

“They died because they made a mistake?”

“Yes, life can be harsh, people die everyday from mistakes, inattentive driving, ignoring danger signs. Once started down the wrong path it is hard to step back over onto the right way.”

“Is that what you’re doing, correcting people’s choices?”

“No. I can’t interfere with peoples free will. People will choose what they choose, and must face the aftermath. It has been given to others; the task of pointing out bad from good. I am only to expose what is hidden - and with that - maybe, it will help people make sound decisions.

“Why can’t a person just live as they want?”

“Existence is dependant upon basic rules.”

“Such as?”

“If you want to keep living, you need to breath. If you put yourself into a situation where there is no air, that is a poor decision on your part.”

“Okay, so here we are, we are running out of oxygen because someone else put us down here.”

“Good point. Our deaths would then fall upon the shoulders of those who endangered us. Everyone has the right to life, taking a life must be answered for.”

“So, when we die down here, somebodies gotta pay for it?”

“I never said we were gonna die, I was trying to paint a picture about accountability.”

“I see, so when are we going to start climbing?”

“I was waiting for the dust to settle. Here, put this on”

Cameron handed the baffled man a harness, is consisted of straps and buckles, a short tether with a ring hook. As John was trying to get into the harness, he noticed Cameron was donning a large belt with suspenders and braces.

“What is that?”

“This is a levitation belt, I made it for a dance contest, if I push enough energy into it, It should get us most of the way up the shaft.”

“Um, yeah, if you’re sure.”

“I’ve only got 34 percent charge in my battery, after clearing out the entrance I might have 30 %. I would like to keep 10% in my battery for what we might face up-top, so I estimate we won’t make it all the way out and will need to climb the remainder.”

“If you say so, how can I help?”

“Lets try moving some of the rock out of the way first. Every bit of energy I can save gets us further up.

The two began digging at the entrance, the rock was sharp with jagged edges. Slowly a small opening was created, the rock tumbling out when assisted by the two who moved it away from the shafts entrance. The open was enlarged to make room for John to squeeze through.

John and Cameron both had to wiggle into the mine shaft and stood upon the topmost of the rock deposit. Cameron clasped John’s tether onto his belt, he would dangle just below Cameron’s feet.

Cameron checked his battery: 34 %, by his calculation, it was going to be close.
Cameron looked up, and regretted it, he swooned at the height. John grabbed hold of him asking: “You alright?”

“I don’t like heights.”

“Vertigo. Are you sure about this?”

“If I just look at the walls, it should be okay. We have just over 1100 feet to the top.”

“Would you make it, if it was just you?”

“Not an option John. You deserve to live just as much as I do.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Use your hands to guide yourself to prevent from bouncing against the walls, try not to hold onto the walls as it will slow us down.”

“Do we need a count down?”

“Just say ready when you’re set.”

“Ready.”

Whateley Academy

Rachelle, Timothy, and Charlotte sat together at one of the tables in the cottages dining area. The room was empty aside from an attendant who had asked if they wanted something to eat. It was too late for breakfast, they had all slept in too soundly after arriving last night, each groggy teen having stumbled into the provided rooms and diving into bed.

The girls had been billeted into the same room, with Timothy across the hall in a single. R.E.D. and Lynn shared the room next to Rachelle and Charlotte but so far not a peep out of them. The teens sat quietly drinking orange juice and eating some of the fruit from the basket on the counter.

After a short while, and an empty fruit bowl later, Lynn and R.E.D. made an appearance. They too still only had the pyjama’s from ARC to wear, not how one wishes to be attired in public, tends to be a poor first impression.

Lynn was hungry, she prowled the small kitchen and came back to the table with a bowl of cereal sans milk. As she ate, a newcomer entered and set down a box on a nearby table.

“Hello, I’m Ms. Claire. The headmistress asked me to bring you some clothing, I’ve brought you an assortment of undergarments, along with a selection of clothing from our lost and found bin. Next I’ll be taking you to our campus store, you each are being provided preloaded credit cards so you can purchase personal items, and additional clothing as needed.”

“Afterwards, I will be showing you our collection of donated school uniforms, these clothes are from past students or those who have outgrown them. While you are on campus, it would be advisable to blend in as best as possible, so adhering to this schools dress code will help to not draw attention. Questions?”

“Who’s paying for all this?” Pondered Rachelle.

“I have been told to apply all expenses to Outlook’s account, until I hear otherwise. If there’s nothing else, we’ll be returning here later so you can get cleaned up and dressed, and then we’ll head to the school’s office to assign you temporary student passes. Do you all have code names?”

“Most of us.” Responded Timothy

“Very good, those without code names please give finding one consideration. Let’s meet back here in ten minutes.”

~o~O~o~

The shopping trip was fruitful, everyone found clothes that fit, pretty well. R.E.D. was hard to find clothes for, at six foot five inches she didn’t have many school uniforms to choose from but managed to get some that were close to her size. One uniform set even had a label stating it was fire resistant, that would undoubtedly be put to the test.

The group of teens reconvened in the guest cottages dining area, each of them cleaned up nicely and looked pristine, just like picture day at your typical school - if everyone wore uniforms, and went to an upper class private school, and had that ‘deer in the headlights’ expression new students always wore.

The student ID’s needed a current photo to be affixed to the laminated card, on the cards back was a barcode for a laser scanner, it also had a chip implanted to open doors to classrooms and dorms, to areas of the school you were allowed to access, otherwise your card was declined.

That’s what Ms. Hartford, the Assistant Headmistress, told them when she issued the student cards, warning them not to lose or damage the cards. She was a stern lady, not the sort of person you could warm up to, if you needed her help you just knew she would berate you for the sheer pleasure it afforded her.

Lynn looked at her card, it was too big to slip into a pocket, and she carried no purse, as a Were it would get easily lost when she shifted. She watched Timothy hook his card to a buttonhole on the inside of his uniform jacket, and followed suit.

Charlotte moved beside the Werecat while the others finished getting organized.

“Did you settle on a code name?”

“I still don’t see the need, but when in Rome. I picked: Aware.”

“Like, because you’re A Were.”

“I suppose that works too, it’s cause I’m a PreCog, so I’m aware of what’s happening.”

“Pardon me Ms. Hartford,” sought R.E.D. “I should like to call my family, how might I arrange this?”

“There is a payphone at your cottage, the house parent can instruct you on how to use your student card to make a call and have it billed to your account.”

“Has there been any word about Outlook?” Sought Charlotte.

“Once we hear anything about his whereabouts, you will be duly notified.”

Ms. Claire gathered them together and pointed them down the hallway. “If we hurry, you’ll be able to enjoy lunch at Crystal Hall.” Upon entering the huge cafeteria, Ms. Claire bid them an enjoyable lunch, saying she would collect afterwards and to remain at Crystal Hall until then.

The promise of food, the smell of fresh bread, charbroiled hamburgers, soups, salads, and at least three types of pasta … it’s more than a half starved teenager could resist. Once the heavily laden platters of food had been assembled, a suitable table was found. It had eight seats, surprising how many of the tables had seating for large groups.

Lynn had amassed a heaping plate, it consisted mostly of meat, anything available at the buffet, on the side was a tiny plate with a small leafy salad and some pickles. But before digging in she reached over to the tables ornamental centrepiece, a couple of fake flowers in a vase, and crushed an insect. She then pushed her chair back and looked under the table, taking a shoe off she used it to smack something before returning to her food.

“I’m afraid this school has a problem with bugs,” Lynn announced.

“Spiders freak me out,” exclaimed Charlotte.

“Cockroaches, nasty little things,” affirmed R.E.D.

“I think she meant listening devices,” noted Rachelle, receiving an affirmative nod from Lynn. “I think you guys should know, when Ms. Hartford mentioned Cameron, she was lying, she doesn’t know exactly where Cameron is, but she has a good idea what’s happened to him.”

“What do we do?” Wondered Timothy.

“Did she orchestrate his abduction?” Asked R.E.D.

“No. It’s more like she’s keeping a secret, and doesn’t want to share it.”

“Is she trustworthy?” Was Timothy’s question, but all nodded that they too worried about the same thing.

“Definitely not. Granted, she cares about Whateley, but her loyalties belong elsewhere. Have any of you ever heard of the Syndicate?”

“I’ve seen some futures that bounced around the Syndicate, nothing good ever came of them.” Supplied Lynn, around a mouthful of shrimp scampi.

“Again, what do we do?” Asked Timothy.

“I’m still not seeing anything dangerous about being at Whateley. I’ll let you know if that changes.” Offered Lynn as she looked unfocused across the room. “I'll try calling Cameron later, see how he’s doing.”

“It seems we’re today’s hot topic, everyones curious about the new kids in town.” Confided Rachelle.

“Anything dangerous?” Questioned Timothy feeling exposed, being the center of attention in a open space.

“Oh, there’s a few girls upset about competition, and a few curious guys checking out the new ‘babes’. R.E.D.s hair is drawing a lot of attention.” Supplied Rachelle.

“So the usual rubbernecking tourist stuff,” assumed R.E.D.

“There’s a table of jerks next level up, I’d say they're overdosing on testosterone and are goading each other into some type of stupidity,” cautioned Rachelle.

“Jerks or Jocks?” Asked Charlotte, as she peeked over Rachelle at the table her sister had identified.

“Whats the difference?” Added R.E.D.

“Not much. Looks like we have a Weiner,” warned Timothy of a student coming down the escalator.

“Ain’t you that girl who burnt my bud Unstoppables hand?” Asked a large brute of a boy who’d taken a position standing behind R.E.D as she sat at the table eating.

“Big guy, dumb as a post, tried to run me over in the hallway near the office?”

“You put him in the hospital, that wasn’t very smart.”

“He got all touchy feely and paid the price. He was both rude and inconsiderate, he broached common decency by putting his hand on me,” explained R.E.D.

“Nobody cares. You burnt him, we protect our own. You need to learn who your betters are.”

“You imply you are up to that task?”

“You better believe it! Dump Truck always gets the job done,” he said giving his chest a thump to prove a point.

“You can’t be serious, that’s your name? What did you do, sit on the curb until a vehicle drove by? What would you have done if a septic truck went past first?”

“You dissing my name? You’re just begging for it,” fumed Dump Truck.

“I think not, I was taught it was dishonourable to engage in an unfair fight.”

“You concede?”

“Hardly, I merely implied that you and your friends aren’t up to the challenge. However, it must be nice that you’ve found each other and formed a club, being mentally handicapped in a school such as this would be difficult without a support group.”

“We ain’t dumb.”

“Then you must be a club of closet homosexuals for you to feel the need to protect each other, perhaps it is not wise to reveal your secret in such a public fashion.”

“No! You have it all wrong.”

“No? One wonders. Anyway, I fail to see how protecting your own is a concern of mine?”

“You hurt one of us, we hurt you, call it reiteration.”

“No, I’d call that retaliation. If you’d like an example of reiteration: your club must consist of mentally handicapped homosexuals, no wonder you’re so sensitive.”

That remark rang loud throughout Crystal Hall, all other conversation had halted so all could listen into the exchange. The large dome carried sound, but for a moment it was quiet as tension increased between the two, instead of a pin dropping, sounds of chairs getting pushed back turned attention over to a table on the second floor, all those at that table rose, moving to stand at the railing overlooking the floor below.

A dispersion cast upon their manliness could not be tolerated, six angry man-boys glared down from above. The leader made a motion, drawing a hand across his throat, the hand not wrapped in a bandage. The message was received resulting in an evil smirk settling upon the confrontations aggressors face.

“You should learn to keep your big mouth shut.”

“Is this when you volunteer to close it for me? Such is the conduct of a bully when he is outmatched and doesn’t get his way, when the brain fails, you resort to brawn. You must get into a lot of fights.”

Charlotte jumped up seeing the escalating scene: “Flambé, let me hold onto your jacket, you just had it cleaned and pressed, no point ruining it.” The younger girl made certain to give her friend a little boost when touching her hand. “How about you Mister, need me to hold onto your jacket?” At which she reached out and discretely touched him on the arm.

“Get away from me,” complained Dump Truck.

R.E.D. took a stance, legs bent with her right foot leading, her hands held down but out to the sides, in a heartbeat her hands glowed orange and her eyes took on a scarlet hue as her hair began to pulse rapidly.

For his part, the big lump took on a smug look while folding his arms across his chest, his face became surprised to then assumed a look of shock, saying: “I can’t get it up!”

“Save it for your friends, no one is interested in your issues with erectile disfunction.”

“I don’t understand.” Stated a bewildered Dump Truck.

“You two, back off! There will be no fighting in the Crystal Hall,” shouted a uniformed Security officer as he rushed up to head off the building conflict.

“I did not instigate this, I shall not be bullied or intimidated by the likes of him,” addressed Flambé, her intensity climbing.

“I did no such thing! She started it, acting all weird and shit,” accused Dump Truck.

“I only sought a peaceful lunch with my friends, this jackanapes found it necessary to assert his ignorance and proved it thoroughly.

“Dump Truck: What have you to say for yourself?” Sought the Security man.

“I was just extending a greeting to the newbies.”

“Your welcome was most ungracious, and conveyed without dignity. Is this the conduct we should expect from this school?”

“Back away you two, if this escalates in any way it’ll be detention.”

“How in keeping, no wonder Outlook is so disgusted with Whateley, you malign the guilty and the innocent equally.”

“Shut it firecracker, one more word from you and you’re taking a trip to Kane Hall.”

Rachelle piped up: “Officer, please don’t touch Flambé. She’s too hot to handle right now.”

“A Rager huh? I don’t see an ultra-violent armband, you can’t be outside without wearing it.”

“I am not a Rager.”

“Let me see you student ID.”

R.E.D. reached for the plastic card hung on her belt and unclipped it, in the time it took to hand it to the security officer, it had melted into a hot glob of oozing liquid that the officer eyed warily.

“You think you’re funny! Hands up front where I can see them.”

The Security officer slapped a pair of exemplar rated handcuffs onto R.E.D., they began to glow red and drip as the metal melted where it contacted her flesh, within seconds the cuffs fell off and clanked on the floor at the girls feet. At which the officer drew his sidearm in panic and pointed it at her.

“Don’t you dare move, I’m putting you under arrest.”

“I am not resisting,” expressed R.E.D. as she put her hands up, crossing them behind her head. “Shall you be arresting the fool also?”

“He didn’t threaten me.”

“Nor did I.”

~o~O~o~

Security’s office in Kane Hall had a pretty large size holding room, they had no trouble fitting all five of the ‘visiting’ teens into it. It was only R.E.D. who had been arrested, but the rest of her friends left Crystal Hall with her, to show solidarity.

It was good that they had been left to cool down, it afforded R.E.D some time to bring her temperature back to a more manageable level, her breathing exercises calming her anxiety. Although current circumstances didn’t help.

Rachelle sat beside her sister Charlotte giving her a curious look.

“What?” Exclaimed the younger sister frustrated by the scrutiny.

“What did you do to the big galoot when you touched him?”

“Him? Well, I had been thinking about how Grace can heat and cool with her ability, and wondered if I could limit someones powers instead of just boosting them.”

“And?” Waited Rachelle for more details.

“When I touch you guys I think: up or more, with him I thought: down and less. From his reaction I’m guessing it worked.”

“You scare me sometimes Sis. That’s a huge risk to take without telling anyone,” admonished Timothy.

“Yeah, but, the way I see it, if someone finds out what I can do, and they want more power, they’d force me to boost them. If I can drop their powers they wouldn’t like that so they’d not try anything.”

“A good defence builds a strong offence. You’re very clever,” assessed R.E.D. “Thanks for having my back.”

A knock on the door announced entrance of someone. A young attractive woman stepped in to the room, a blonde in her early twenties with a sternness that didn’t compliment her pretty face.

“I’m Admiral Samantha Everhart. I’ve been handed an arrest report saying you resisted arrest when disrupted from open brawling in Crystal Hall.”

“So fighting is allowed at Whateley, as long as it’s not in the open.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It is what you imply when saying open brawling.”

“So you don’t deny engaging in a fight.”

“I was prepared to defend myself after being threatened. Does Whateley expect people to wilt without resistance when being bullied?”

“The report doesn’t mention anything about bullying.”

“The altercation today was in retribution for an early encounter, a bozo named Unstoppable had touched me inappropriately, if I hadn’t stopped him I believe he was attempting to feel me up. Is this the correct expression?”

“Did you file a complaint?”

“He was sent to the hospital with burns, I felt that should be enough of a lesson.”

“Ah, so you decided to go after his friends too.”

“No, they accosted me. Threatened me, and if I understood the context, my friends as well.”

“I’ll be retrieving video from Crystal Hall, if it checks out, we’ll see how this incident will play out. In the meantime, each of you will need to write a witness statement.”

“Is this when we get assigned detention, to never see the light of day again?” Asked Charlotte in anticipation of the worst.

~o~O~o~

Mrs. Claire scanned the eating areas of Crystal Hall, each floor was now empty aside from a few kitchen staff cleaning up the cafeteria now that classes had resumed.

Where were they? She had told them to wait here. This wasn’t good.

Picking up the school phone, she activated the intercom feature: “The following students are to report to Mrs. Claire at Administration immediately, Flambé, Excelle, Perspicacious, Swift, and Aware.”

Claire set a fast pace to the office, she walked but at nearly a run. Moving quickly towards Admin, maybe they had decided to wait for her there, her hopes were unfulfilled as none of her charges was found at Admin.

The administrative assistant waited outside the school’s office, she had already paced the hall in a fret, she’d even received an empathetic smile from Ms. Hartford for her troubles. Did they get lost, kidnapped - again, runaway? She had been assigned to keep an eye on them, told it was critical they be taken care of.

As Mrs. Carson explained it, these kids could be key to solving some of the schools legal woes.

The Pit

Each time Cameron made a large energy transfer, he felt exhausted. Back at Whateley, before the battle, his battery was at its highest charge ever at 80%, but he had expended so much powering up his friends, there came a point where he couldn’t help but pass out.

Now, after having infused his levitation belt, lifting himself and John up in the mine shaft, he felt drained, like after a heavy workout or a long run. Cameron hadn’t been able to look up, and he daren’t look down, rather he’d focused on the walls as they climbed up. They had risen in a slow corkscrew trying not to bounce into the walls, these were not smooth but had jagged edges which could rip and tear if impacted.

Cameron focused on his battery during the ascent, he did’t want to let it get too low, but also knew that it would be easier going now than to have to climb up later. That’s why he let his reserve drop to 8% before ceasing the transfer to his belt.

Constructing a platform across the shaft with metal supports and a wood surface, Cameron set John down before allowing himself to settle onto the deck, dropping down onto his butt leaning against the rock wall, exhausted.

“Are you alright?”

“Just tired, I’m gonna need a few minutes to catch my breath.”

“How far up do you think we are?”

Being on a solid platform Cameron risked looking up, his vertigo being an issue whenever he was at heights.

“Just shy of two hundred feet to go.”

“That’s fantastic!”

“I had hoped for better.”

“Nonsense, look at how far we’ve come.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Right, gotcha. I meant we’re so much further ahead than a couple minutes ago.”

“Thanks, hope you don’t mind if I close my eyes for a few minutes.”

“Go ahead, I’ll rest up too.”

Cameron’s internal clock might be out of sync, but it was around a half hour later that he stirred. John was waiting patiently for the boy.

“I’ve been checking the walls, this rock isn’t very good for handholds, it’s going to be a difficult climb.”

“I was thinking of using rungs like a ladder.”

“You can do that?”

“If I set them over a foot apart, so our backs are against the wall, there will be less likelihood we’d fall.”

“And if we need to rest, we can lean back. Good thinking.”

“As long as I’m close, it won’t take much energy to secure them.”

“I suggest we keep a rope tied between us, to be safe. I’ll lead - if you’re okay with that?”

“Just a sec, I’ll get a light for you so I don’t have to keep looking up.”

Cameron handed John a flashlight he’d bought ages back when shopping with Lynn and her Mom, the type that John could wear on his head. Once prepared Cameron began fixing metal rods to the walls, they spanned a corner of the rough hewn shaft leaving just enough room for the two to climb the impromptu ladder.

John started up with Cameron following, Cameron would implant more rungs just ahead of John and remove them once past. The going was methodical, one hand reaching for the next rung with a foot pushing the body up. A rhythm was set, not too fast, but progress was made nonetheless.

Cameron asked for a break, resulting in the two leaning back against the rock wall. The small point of light that was their destination had grown larger. John was getting excited. Cameron took the time to look up at what was above, he was close enough now to see faintly into the first - lowest level of the complex.

There was movement within the tunnel, as best he could determine a group of armed men were engaged in a struggle against powered individuals. Gunshots didn’t seem to be a deterrent, so a Brick must be present, checking the signature it wasn’t Roche.

The armed men were getting overwhelmed, getting pushed back nearer to the shafts upper entrance. Amidst the fighting a spotlight was shone down the shaft, illuminating the two climbers. Cameron saw three ball like objects get tossed down: Grenades!

The hand grenades speed past them, exploding a short distance below them. Rock was blasted from the walls falling down the shaft, soon to impact the platform Cameron had left behind, breaking it apart. The explosions were deafening in the small space, leaving the two climbers with ringing ears. Cameron absorbed some of the shock but still, the blast caused a minor cave in as dislodged rock crumbled away, descended in a rockfall into the inky black depths below.

Noise above them drew the attention of the disoriented climbers, they heard screams, followed by the light above being obscured, it was bodies being cast into the shaft. Cameron watched as three men, some of the commandos he’d identified earlier, fell downward.

They bounced off the walls, flailing wildly in the dark abyss. The first missed John and Cameron as he passed, his wail a long piercing scream. The second commando impacted the highest most rung and careened off, the force sending him into the far wall with a hard thump that silenced his scream. The third man managed to latch onto a rung halfway between John and Cameron, his grunt indicated injury from the strain of stopping his free-fall, he held onto the rung like a drowning man hugging a life preserver.

Cameron closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable thump when flesh hit bottom, the sickening sound came and when it did the boy sighed sorrowfully.

Cameron climbed up the ladder to be face to face with the man clinging to the outside of his steps.

“Hello Hector, it seems circumstances dictate we meet.”

“Help me!”

“I require information, you supply that, and you’ll be helped.”

“If I say anything, they’ll kill me.”

“Do you imagine I’d do less?”

“You’re supposed be a good guy.”

“My my, that sounds like an admission to being a bad guy, considering how we were left to die it is fitting. How does one sleep at night knowing they are evil?”

“I was just doing my job.”

“Yet you knew it was wrong, and did it anyway. That adds to your guilt, not excuse it.”

“We are trying to save the world.”

“How?”

“By preserving world order.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Who’s pulling your strings? Who makes up this world order?”

“I was hired by the Syndicate, they have a seat at the Coalitions table.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know who makes up the Coalition, I’m just a low level grunt. All I’ve heard are rumours.”

“Such as?”

“MCO for sure, NATO, most Churches, maybe even the United Nations.”

“One last question, who tossed you down here?”

“The mutants we had in holding, after that black devil busted loose they managed to get free.”

“Thank you Hector. I’ve strapped a harness around you and hooked it to that metal rung, you won’t fall. Let’s go John.”

Upward movement soon had the two climbers a couple feet above the dangling man.

“You can’t leave me here!”

“Why not?”

“My arms are hurt, I can’t climb. You said you’d help me.”

“And I did, you won’t fall. You only asked for help, not to be saved.”

“It’s what I meant.”

“Yet your actions tell a different story, you showed no remorse when leaving us to die down there. I am not obliged to go beyond how you yourself treated others.”

“That’s not fair!”

“No, it isn’t. It’s balance. Although bad always seems to outweigh good.”

“I’ll die.”

“Today or tomorrow, it’s inevitable, everything dies. At least you’ll have time to make peace with whatever god you worship.”

“I’m an atheist.”

“Then you’ll have opportunity to reflect on the meaning of life.”

Progress up was steady, taking one step at a time John and Cameron could now start to feel fresh air, it invigorated them and made them press on. After a while John stopped and looked at Cameron.

“You were pretty harsh back there.”

“True, I fear I’m running out of human kindness, it’s hard to continually rise above hatred when that is all man shows.”

“If it was up me, I’d likely have pushed him off.”

“Would that have made you feel better?”

“Probably not, maybe for a few seconds, but I think I’d regret it later.”

“Then you have a conscience, something Hector lost a long time ago. Something I’m needing to fight to hang onto.”

The shaft now had slight illumination from the open hatch, a large spool was positioned above the door, the baskets cable wound around the spool with the basket recessed above the opening. The activity Cameron had seen before had moved on, the shaft was unattended.

John carefully peeked over the lip of the shaft, he then whispered: “All clear” before he made the last few steps up and crawled out. Cameron followed as quickly as he could, sprawling onto the floor at the shafts entrance, panting from the exertion.

There was sound coming from the far end of this tunnel, but nothing nearby. John rested with his back against the wall, Cameron lay on the floor, assessing his new surroundings. He spotted the next level up, it wasn’t directly overhead since it would have followed the gold, but it was near.

Looking down the tunnel Cameron identified six mutants, three had stayed by the elevator at the other end, while three were heading towards he and John. These three were checking each holding cell that lined the tunnel.

Cameron donned his visor, he had learned long ago that his eyes scared people, no point heightening a tense situation, he whispered to John: “Company is coming.”

John unhooked the rope between them, and struggled to remove the harness he wore. Cameron dissipated the evidence that suggested they had climbed out of that hole.

The tunnel had a bend in it, and until the three mutants rounded the corner Cameron and John had not been visible. Once in sight the three panicked ducking into one of the open cells.

“Who are you?” Was shouted.

“I’m Cameron, and this is John. Who are you?”

The pause was telling, but came the reply: “We don’t know.”

“I picked John as a name, I don’t know who I am either.”

“Where did you come from?” They asked.

“We’ve been held prisoner and broke out. What happened here?” Replied John.

“We were asleep, but got woken by this god awful screaming. I watched as the kid in the cell across from me started to get covered by this oily black slime, he had all these tendrils start coming out of him until he fell down and exploded. It was gross.”

John shouted to them, “How did you get out of those cells?”

“Somebody turned the magnetic door locks off, when the guards showed up we surprised them.” Returned the same voice.

Another voice added, “That was me, in all the confusion I found could teleport again, so I jumped over to the control panels, I opened the cell doors but noticed another box was already smashed, once the guards figured it out it was too late.”

“Can you access the surface?” Sought Cameron.

“No, the elevators have been disabled, and the guards are shooting anything that moves, we can’t get up to the next level.” The first voice said as they showed themselves.

“Could you teleport up?” Wondered John.

“I can’t, I need to see where I teleport to, or have it memorized, and - well, I don’t remember anything.” Admitted the Teleporter, a short dark haired boy that concealed himself behind a large tall boy with a wide chest.

“How about you?” Asked John of the third mutant, a girl who stood behind the Teleporter.

“I’m an Exemplar, I don’t remember anything either, even though I have an eidetic memory.”

“Leaving the big guy who’s a Brick, nice to meet you all,” assured Cameron.

“What are we gonna do? If we can’t move, the guards will put us under lock and key again,” worried the Exemplar girl.

“We need another way out,” summarized the Brick.

“I haven’t seen another route out, we could make a tunnel up to the next level, that would increase our chances,” pondered Cameron.

“Good idea, but how are we going to make a tunnel?” Wondered the Exemplar.

“I can move matter, I don’t have lots of energy left, but I should be able to make a small opening. Looks to me like the two tunnels are closest back near this tunnel’s corner.”

Cameron lead the group to the open cell the three had taken refuge in, he approached the far wall and looked intently up, he placed his hands on the rock with it turning a shade of pale blue, as the light faded in place of the rock was now a small circular opening climbing upward at an angle.

“Sorry it’s so small, I can’t expend too much energy just now. I’m thinking that if the Teleporter climbs up, sorry, is it okay if I call you Albert?”

“Why Albert?”

“If you get named alphabetically, it will keep us organized, you were the first one out of your cell, so you are A.”

“Makes sense.”

“Once Albert has scouted the situation, he can come back and take others up.”

Albert, the young Teleporter agreed and he scampered up the new tunnel, he returned back down the tunnel a few minutes later to report.

“The next level up is still in lockdown, our tunnel comes out in the hallway beside a locked cell, I explained our situation to the girl in that cell, she said she’d help.”

“What’s the plan?” Asked John.

“I recommend we break everyone out in the next level, bring them back here and get ourselves organized,” recommended Cameron

“All right, how do you want to proceed?” Offered John looking to encourage participation.

“I saw the hallway so I can blip us up there once the … whatchamacallit is disabled,” assured Albert.

“I’ll crawl up and see if I can throw a wangdoodle into the doomahickey,” suggested Cameron, as he squirmed into the little tunnel. Remaining within the tunnel at the next level Cameron felt an electric field dance over his skin, this must be what robbed the mutants of their abilities, he reached for it and began to pull, it resisted at first but soon enough faded away and didn’t return. Cameron asked Albert to go back up and see if he could teleport.

Albert returned after a few minutes bringing with him a prisoner from the cell across the hall, saying: “I can blip around up there, I’ll start bringing prisoners back to our tunnel, until I’ve emptied all the cells.” Explained Albert excited to see how his teleportation could be used.

Soon it was a steady stream of escapee’s descending the small tunnel and joining the growing number. John had taken up naming the newcomers and was at J already. He would state what power set each had, but refused to say what level.

Cameron was looking at their surroundings, assessing options, looking for an escape route. He found the location of the third level, while the second level tunnel ran to the left, the third level took a different course and was off to the far right from the lowest level.

Cameron checked his battery, 4% left, it would take time to let his collectors in the Sunroom build up his reserve, time he simply didn’t have. The energy available down here was minimal, he didn’t have another source to tap into, if his battery got too low he wouldn’t be able to keep his protective mental barriers up.

From John’s description there was plenty of Psychics up here ready to do a mind wipe, something Cameron was not willing to be a victim of. He cherished the precious memories of his family, to lose those would be tantamount to letting them die again. No, Cameron wasn’t going to forget his loved ones.

After observing the third level through solid rock, he chose the shortest distance to make a tunnel to it. Cameron wasn’t able to discern the exact situation, the distance wasn’t such that his vision would be cloudy, yet he couldn’t see completely, like his vision was refracted somehow.

He decided to make a sloped tunnel with a smooth bottom and handholds on the roof, he’d be able to pull himself up on his back and slide down if needed. Also, by keeping himself close to the front wall of the new tunnel it’d take less energy.

The tunnel would be tight quarters, barely enough space for Cameron, he couldn’t spare the energy to make it bigger. Of the freed prisoners only two could fit in the tight space, a couple girls, a Psychic named Heather and a Gadgeteer named Gidget. When Cameron explained his idea to the growing group, these two volunteered to come.

Among the group was an Energizer named Don, he could create an electric field between his hands that could shock people or short out electronics, he built up a charge and gave it to Cameron. 1% was added to his battery, at 5% Cameron began to bore into the rock.

Cameron applied a small amount of plastic to the tunnels bottom so it would make dragging himself along easier, by putting his feet into the handholds on the roof he didn’t slip, and told his companions to do the same.

To prevent fatigue Cameron took frequent breaks, by pacing himself the draw on his battery was slowed, still he watched his energy level drop which worried him deeply, it was like a man in the desert with only a few drops of water left in a canteen.

Heather called up: “John wants to let you know he’s at Q, Albert pulled the last prisoner out of level two, he’s named Quentin.”

“That’s a lot of mouths to fed.”

“It’s not lunch time.”

“Just saying everybody’s counting on us to find a way out.”

“Then why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“It’s an old expression, I didn’t want to have to admit that should I fail, I’ve let so many down.”

“Win or lose, I’m thankful that I didn’t just rollover. You’ve given us hope, maybe I’ve lost my past but because of you the future isn’t as bleak.”

“Did you know that you were going to be sold as slaves?”

“The guards loved taunting us, told us that we’d be getting experimented on everyday.”

“The evil within a human heart astonishes me.”

“I don’t know, you seem nice.”

“How do you know I’m human?”

“John told us, said you were one of the good guys, but didn’t explain how come you’ve got powers.”

“I’m one of the gifted.”

“How many are there?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never meet any of the others. I was given a specific job, I imagine the others have their own assignments.”

“What’s you assignment?”

“To uncover that which is hidden.”

“So, does breaking us out of this hellhole fit into exposing what’s hidden?”

“I suppose it does. Thanks, I hadn’t looked at it from that angle. I feel better about our chances at success.”

“Is it much further?”

“Not much further. I’m going to rest a minute and look around.”

Being closer Cameron could now see through the haze with greater definition, the remaining few feet of rock was nearly transparent, and Outlook could live up to his name. At the far end of level 3, where the elevator shaft ran, a contingent of armed guards had secured that access to below and above.

A large open space was between the elevator and where Cameron’s tunnel would open onto, a seriously big room was likely where the auctions are held. The tunnel he was building would enter into a mid size room beside the big arena, if anything, it appeared to be a greeting area. This ancillary room had strong lighting and was well furnished, on the walls hung tapestries, or false walls were used to hide the rock and make it not look like an underground dungeon.

A small raised platform stymied Cameron for a moment, a portal pad! Buyers arrived by portal, taking their latest slave acquisitions out the same way. This abandoned gold mine could be absolutely anywhere, and nobody would be the wiser.

It also meant that a second access to the surface was unlikely, but Cameron looked anyway, and came up empty, something was interfering with his sight.

The other end of the third level must be the Psychics rooms John had described, Cameron layered his vision, being able to count eight heat signatures, nothing about powers, it left the boy without firm details of what waited for them.

“Heather, can you guard your thoughts from other Psychics?”

“If I could do that they wouldn’t have been able to erase my memories.”

“Right, I’m sorry. But I’m worried you two will give our position away, I’m going to try and distract the guards at the elevator. Can you let the others below know.”

Heather and Gidget slide back down, Cameron checked his battery: 2%.

Cameron open the last section of tunnel, crawling out he pushed aside the curtain and stood. He opened himself up and drew in electricity from the rooms lights, it didn’t account for much but it was something. Creeping along in the empty room, Cameron noticed a large door stretched across this levels main tunnel, it cut off the Psychics from the rest of the facility, Cameron ensured it was locked and would remain closed.

Cameron spotted a mess on the arrival rooms floor, wet spots and entrails stuck between the floors tiles, it was the telltale remains of someone contaminated by a Voodoo Wolf.

Cameron stepped out into the corridor and walked the short distance to the large auction room, hugging a wall to be inconspicuous. The space was circular with a twenty foot high ceiling, set into the walls were raised viewing seats, in the rooms center was a pedestal with spotlights trained on it. It reminded Cameron of a small Roman arena, like what Whateley has for its gladiatorial contests.

Cameron could see the guards across the room pointing guns down into the elevator shaft, waiting for a target to show themselves. The elevator opened directly onto the arena, there was no way to sneak up on the men, unless!

Cameron began to pull electricity into himself, the lights dimmed before flickering and winking out. Cameron ran across the arenas floor, the guards confusion wouldn’t last. He had only passed the rooms central pedestal before the first guard donned his night vision goggles.

The bullets began to slam into his velocity robbing force field, as more guards joined the fray they spread further apart, Cameron couldn’t expand the fields width to compensate so needed to withdraw, to keep from being outflanked. He backed up with slow steady steps, to draw attention for as long as possible.

Each bullet hitting his force field imparted a small amount of energy into the boy as inertia was dampened until the bullet stopped. Cameron collected all the expended lead bullets as material for future use.

Cameron returned to the arrival room, he was out of the sight until the guards moved in on his position, he looked at his battery: 1%, all that weapons fire had been as much an energy drain as he’d gathered up.

Moving to the tiny tunnel, Cameron entered it, making a quick cover and setting it like a cork in a bottle, Cameron slid down to the bottom level.

John welcomed Cameron back, asking how it went. That it was bad news disappointed the hopeful group.

“How many Psychics did they keep on hand?”

“Twelve.”

“I counted eight up there, I spotted a mess on the floor, I’m guessing they lost a few people when the black goop covered guy escaped.”

“We tried to climb up, but the guards have the elevator too well defended,” announced Bob the Brick.

“We’re stuck,” moaned Carla the Exemplar.

Cameron looked downcast for a moment, before he’d settled upon a solution, so many were looking to him as their saviour, he felt the weight sitting on his shoulders.

“Time for drastic measures, Everyone needs to move as far away as possible, the second level would be best. I’m going to try something risky, and I don’t want anyone hurt. Nobody come back this way until I say otherwise.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna go nuclear.”

~o~O~o~

Alan sat on the log he had placed near the fire he’d built down behind the river bank, it had taken some effort to spark two stones to get the fire lit. He’d decided to set up camp down by the river, it was out of view from the old mine site, he’d managed to construct a lean-to to keep the kid warm.

When Alan had been up in the tree as a panther scouting things, the dark encased warrior had zero’d in on him without wavering and began climbing up to attack. Alan shifted and used the black balls Ella had told him to carry, he dropped them onto the encroaching enemy, it took three balls before it made any impact.

When the last of the black goop finally relented and released its captive, Alan was left with a young brave, maybe fourteen, too young if truth be told, especially for the horrors that being overwhelmed brought.

Alan carried the unconscious youth away from danger, and tried to tend to his needs, making shelter and finding food. Cooking on a flat rock were three fish he’d caught from the river, Alan watched the boy rest, remembering how exhausted he’d felt after being freed.

The gentle crackle as the wood burned was the only sound, it was a faint scent on the wind that told him he had company. Without looking up Alan said:

“Hello Ella.”

“This is what you call stalking an adversary?”

“No, I call this helping a fallen friend.”

“That’s not Cameron.”

“Really! Wow, I’d never have figured that out without your keen observation.”

“Who is he?”

“A recently freed Were, he crawled out of the hole they’re keeping Cameron in.”

“Has he said anything?”

“Not yet, I needed to use four balls on him to break the darks hold.”

“Is he hurt?”

“He has bullet wounds, he looked like a pin cushion at first, but he’s healing. Where’s your father?”

“He’ll be along, he was taking the high ground.”

“They have Cameron in an old mine, I’d say it’s deep. They don’t use the road much, the van Cameron was in might be the first vehicle traffic in here for a month.”

“How many people?”

“Too many scents to tell, more that twenty, I lost track after that. The entrance is heavily fortified, I thought it best to let a tactician come up with a plan.”

“Dad will be thrilled.”

“What has my daughter taken and voluntold me into?”

“The entrance to an old mine is that-away across a creek and a couple hundred feet beyond, it has a single garage door entrance set into a hillside, surrounded by gun placements, I didn’t find any other openings. My guest here crawled out of one of the gun ports.”

“I’ll check it out. Ella, I came across a flock of pheasants five minutes back, we should eat and three little fishes won’t cut it.”

“Oh sure, have the woman look after the food.”

“Ella, you’re a better hunter than I am, and you have been for many years, I just never wanted to admit it.”

“Dad …”

“I’m proud of you Ella, I might not have said it often enough, but you make an amazing Oberon.”

“Here here,” concurred Alan.

“Let an old war fox offer something worthwhile. Before you run circles around me.”

“All right, Pheasant it is.”

“If you come across any wild onions?”

“Not you too.”

“Hey, I’m volunteering to cook em. Just asking if you’d look for a little seasoning is all.”

~o~O~o~

Camron waited for the lower level to clear out, he was going to try something he’d only speculated about before, exciting molecules to the point when the bonds holding matter together break, then skimming electrons off, the whole idea scared him.

Risky didn’t really cover the potential for an accident, he could set off an uncontrolled nuclear reaction, releasing untold amounts of radiation. It sounded good when describing his plan, just like it might on paper, but thinking it over, Cameron couldn’t reconcile how far South this might turn on him.

He chose Lead and his fuel, he brought out twenty pounds from Warehouse, shaped it into a sphere. He stood within the empty cell nearest the Pit’s shaft, it had a narrow opening to limit radiation exposure, he faced the rock wall to begin exciting matter. The Lead started to glow faintly until it burst into a brilliant blue, Cameron felt the energy pouring out of it, he absorbed the abundant release like a starving wolf attacking a carcass.

Peeling the electrons away, Cameron felt the energy course through him, the energy he consumed was directed into his depleted battery, the battery quickly came alive, the tiny little ember he started with soon grew into a raging fire, checking the batteries gauge it climbed rapidly: 40, 50, 60 percent.

For the first time in a long while Cameron felt warm, the cold of this prison’s depths no longer crept into his bones.

Cameron calmed the molecules, bringing the excited atoms back from the edge of complete disintegration, cooling them by absorbing the extreme heat generated. Once stable Cameron drew in all the radiation that had been released, cleansing the tunnel walls which had been exposed to the danger, a disaster just barely contained.

Looking at his battery it sat at 87%, he was at a new peak and he felt fantastic. He looked down at the ball in his hand, it was now a highly reflective yellow as it shined in the light from his eyes. He’d transformed Lead into Gold, well that’s an interesting side effect to be sure, however, not one he ever wished to be repeating.

Enough kibitzing around, Cameron got busy and began to build up the biggest charge in his life, a huge one, on a scale large enough to dissipate all the rock between him and freedom.

~o~O~o~

Ulrich Oberon sat on his haunches as he looked down over the landscape, he was sitting above the mines main door, perched atop the two gun ports located overtop the door. The approach to the mine was a no-mans-land, wide open flat land from the creek up to the hillside’s face, it had been levelled to house a worker’s camp when it was being mined, now it was a barren wasteland without anything to hide behind.

The gun placements had an unimpeded view making it impossible to get close without getting noticed. Not only was there people watching, but sensors and cameras were set to alert any movement, even a sly old fox couldn’t find a hole to exploit.

Once the sun hit a spot in the sky in the morning, some of the gunners visibility would be blinded, but with all the electronic surveillance, a morning attack only improved the odds slightly. As nuts went, this one would be tough to crack.

To Ulrich’s surprise the ground in front of the mine entrance took on a strange blue hue, the area stretched across the open space and beyond the creek, it was at least three hundred feet across. The van parked in front of the main door was engulfed in the light, as were several of the gun placements, either fully or partially. Ulrich ran to avoid being engulfed.

The blue light grew in intensity until it flashed, when Ulrich stopped running and looked again he couldn’t believe his eyes. A huge hole stretched from what had been the rough hewn mine entrance all the way across the defended space, past the creek he’d crossed. In fact, the creek was now spilling down into the hole and disappearing into a dark cave at the bottom.

As the wary fox moved to a better location, he noticed another opening in the newly created hole’s walls, the second hole was up forty feet. A young man exited the bottom most cave and clambered up the rock wall to the second opening.

“John! Heather! Bring everyone this way, we’ve got a way out now,” he shouted into the darkness.

Soon a large number of young humans could be seen at the second cave’s exit, their excited voices a mix of shock and awe. The rock walls were fairly steep but it was possible to climb out without rope, the entire hole looked to have forty-five degree slopes originating at the bottom most cave.

Ulrich ran to the new holes edge, to a location away from any guns sight, he motioned the youngsters to come towards him. Those below hesitated briefly but began to climb up, having to cross the cascade of water coming down. Meanwhile, Ella and Alan came to investigate the shouting to find a changed landscape, and took advantage of the opportunity presented.

Considering the large pile of slag Ulrich had found, the caves must be part of the mine, the amount of water flowing into the hole wasn’t filling the bottom so it must be going into the mine. The Oberon in him was glad that he didn’t attempt a forced entry, getting in was one thing, trying to get into the deep recesses of an underground mine would be tenfold worse.

The Were watched as seventeen humans climbed towards him, he grabbed the hand of the first to the edge and helped hoist him up over the holes lip. He was a middle aged man, the eldest among them.

“Cameron said you were okay. I’m John by the way.”

“Ulrich, which of you is Cameron?”

“He’s the guy working his way around the hole, said he wanted to see what was happening in the other two levels.”

“There’s more of you?”

“We’re the escapee’s, the other levels house the guards.”

~o~O~o~

Cameron spotted the man waving his arms at them, a Were with a near identical signature to Ella. Cameron directed John to lead the escaped Mutants to him. The water flowed almost directly down into the pit John and he had climbed out of, once that filled the mine itself would get flooded.

Once everyone had left the second level Cameron put a set of prison cell bars across the opening, to prevent anyone from coming up from behind them. The amount of rock between him and the two upper levels shouldn’t have been enough to obscure his sight, so Cameron climbed higher to get closer and remove the veil.

Stopping in a patch of sunshine, Cameron brought out his satellite phone, the one Smith had given him back when leaving RCMP’s Special Investigations headquarters.

“Smith here.”

“Pamela, it’s Cameron calling. I’m hoping you could help me.”

“What do you need?”

“First up, can you tell me where I am? Secondly, does the RCMP have anyone they trust close by my position in the States?”

“Who do you mean, a person, or an organization?”

“How about somebody in a trustworthy organization?”

“I’ll ask Ray, he might know someone, gimme a sec.” The song “When You Say Nothing At All” played over the connection. “Cameron, I have Ray on the line.”

“Hello Cameron, what’s this I hear about needing someone to trust?”

“I have uncovered a slavery ring, selling mutants to the highest bidder. I don’t know who to hand this mess over too.”

“The MCO deal with most mutant issues.”

“I have reason to believe the MCO are involved with selling people.”

“Ouch, that’s serious! How many are we talking about?”

“I’ve rescued seventeen, and so far I have some twenty of their captors holed up.”

“You don’t believe in being discrete, do you kid?”

“Aren’t you the one who said: ‘Go big, or go home’?”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d say. Nevertheless, I’m guessing State police might not be the right folks to get involved, if the stakes are as high as you believe. How about the FBI?”

“As I recall the FBI handles kidnapping and extortion, it might be hard to prove that.”

“There’s a group in the States called DARPA, their mandate is Paranormal Affairs.”

“Do you have a contact with them? Someone you trust?”

“I met a guy a little while ago: Nicholas Riley. How about I give him a call, sound him out. If he checks out, I’ll pass on what you’ve told me.”

“Thanks Ray, you too Pam.”

Cameron scouted the third level, at the elevator a team was preparing to descend by force into the lower reaches. The Arena was still defended by a dozen guards, while technicians worked to open the door to free the Psychics he’d sealed up.

Looking down to the hole’s bottom, the creek’s water had filled the Pit, and was now rising up into the long deep shaft. Cameron decided a watery grave was a suitable conclusion to this wretched place. Looking above he drilled a bore hole over into the nearby river, increasing the flow of water coming in.

Cameron approached the spot closest to the end of the third levels tunnels, from his earlier foray at the third level, he knew that the tunnel looked like a dog-bone, the tunnel split into two nubs as the miners hunted for more gold when the vein played out. Cameron estimated that one of the nubs should be just a short distance away from the gapping hole he’d created.

But that was the problem, it should be here. His sight should have been able to penetrate the relatively thin amount of rock, he should be able to see the void of the tunnel. It was bizarre, when he focused his vision upon that area it would get fuzzy and redirected - most curious.

Walking back a distance Cameron sized up the situation, then walked beyond the mysterious gap, he calculated it to be a sphere roughly thirty feet across. The hidden area left some portions of the tunnel exposed, the sphere of influence had moved allowing Cameron to see part of the tunnels nub, where he had thought it to be.

It took little effort to make a narrow opening, Cameron made it just big enough for his small frame to squeeze through. However, getting closer didn’t correct the glitch in his sight, there was going to be only a slim sliver of space he could accurately see in before the blanked out area started.

Stepping into that tunnel’s terminus and hugging the wall, Cameron looked around at the little bit visible to him, this nub looked to be partitioned into living quarters. In front of him was a shimmering wall, it had the appearance of rippling water the colour of silver. Cycling through his vision it was all impeded except the thermal spectrum, he could detect people present, heat signatures alerted him to their presence.

Cameron’s arrival placed him into view of these people which immediately set them into a frenzy. His presence had disrupted them while performing a ritual, it was a shock to them because he seemingly appeared out of nowhere, but mostly since none of them had detected Cameron coming. Not the first time Psychics had reacted that way.

Those of the Psychic’s present, who didn’t runaway and hide in the next section over, cowered in fear behind furniture. Soon enough however, most of the telepaths were marshalled into plaguing Cameron with a mental assault. Cameron felt pressure at his temples but his mental blocks held them at bay.

It was the strangest thing, he could only see warm bodies, he couldn’t detect any other physical characteristics, he had nothing abilities and power ratings wise to assess danger or threat. He hadn’t as yet moved but was able to determine the single point from which this dead zone radiated out from, a heat signature. As that heat signature moved so too did the boundary of interference.

~o~O~o~

Ulrich pointed out to the seventeen strangers who climbed out of the big hole where to find safety, and cautioned them as to where danger lay. The newly exposed rock face that had just a few minutes before represented an impossible / impenetrable fortification, had now become a hive of panic. Most of the secure gunnery positions had been within the blue light and had now become exposed, instead of being protected behind the rock they had been opened up like a can of sardines, except for the two farthest most outlying posts on either side of the bay door.

The hillside looked like an anthill that had been kicked, the men retreated taking what guns and ammunition they could while scurrying to find shelter within the lower depths of the mine. Ulrich was taken aback to see what all had been waiting for them inside the bay, a tank, a monstrously huge tracked behemoth with a rotating turret and gun.

The tank’s main gun looked to be shorter than it normally should, it too was caught in the disappearing act. However, it couldn’t drive forward as it would fall down the steep incline of the hole.

His call had drawn Ella and Alan away from camp, they too looked at the unanticipated change of circumstances with big eyes and jaws hung open. Ulrich used long practised hand signals to coordinate an assault, push the advantage presented and drive the humans back, keeping them on the run.

The Were dropped down into the new hole, using the steep slope so as to stay out of sight of the men, then, it was a fast dash up and into the garage bay, using the belly of the tank to keep hidden until springing on the unwary foe of six unprepared men.

The Were’s movements happened so fast the humans couldn’t track them, with quick slashes and nips from a pair of foxes resulted in the men being disarmed and disoriented. It happened so rapidly that the men didn’t know what hit them, but it was the act of having the snarling maw of a huge black panther right in your face that made a few of the men lose bladder control.

The Were attack set the men on the run, those close enough jumped through the open elevator doors, soon followed by loud splashes and shouting. The tanks turret rotated but couldn’t turn past the bay’s walls, even with its shortened gun barrel the opening was too narrow, so the machine gun mounted on the turret beside the main gun wasn’t going to be an issue.

Three men had been incapacitated and surrendered, Ella ferreted out the lone man down at the far right gun placement, tight quarters and a wild fox - the guy didn’t stand a chance, and had the scars to prove it. The far left position was already abandoned.

Ulrich stepped near the open elevator doors, the shaft only ran down from here, he sniffed, drawing in a deep breath, then repeated the process. His short yip said it all: Twelve men, eight women.

~o~O~o~

Cameron was uncertain how to proceed, the silver wall moved, coming closer, Cameron backed against the tunnels rock face, holding his breath as the watery sheen neared, until it touched him, it pressed against his chest and the tip of his nose but it didn’t envelope him.

Reaching out Outlook touched the silver water, it rippled like touching a pool as waves radiated outward, it looked very much like a mirror but he didn’t see his reflection. The liquid wall withdrew to the extent that Cameron needed to take a step forward to remain in contact with it.

It isn’t that energy has a taste, nor would it be correct to say it has a feel, but when Cameron touched the silver wall it had a familiarity to it, it wasn’t raw energy, rather it had been filtered - given an application, a purpose. It was magic.

He counted it a blessing that nobody had decided to attack him so far, but Cameron layered on as many shields as he could to protect himself. Cameron felt naked, he didn’t carry a gun - never thought he’d need an offensive weapon, not when he could render anyone he saw unconscious. As it was, all he saw was their temperature, what was he to do? Make them cold?

A stray thought struck the boy, Smith had built into her phones a Taser feature, Cameron had watched Ken test his out, but his own phone’s Taser had never been enabled. The Taser’s principle was simple enough, send out a strong enough electrical charge and Wham-O, the target gets zapped.

But herein lay the problem, Cameron could easily deliver an electrical zap that could fry somebody, but he just wanted to incapacitate - not kill, he didn’t know how much juice it would take. He needed something else.

It was crude but fitting in a way, from his Warehouse he released the knock-out gas that had been used on him down in the Pit. It dispersing into the air unhindered by the silver water, magic it seems had its limitations and let gasses through. All the heat signatures lay sprawled on the floor.

Cameron placed both his hands on the silver water and pushed it, the wall receded, being so close it wasn’t easily discernible that the sphere was shrinking, not until it had dropped in size by over half. Cameron pressed on, soon the silver water ball had shrunk down so a pair of legs stuck out of it.

Continuing to move in Cameron found the magic’s source to be an amulet hung around a woman’s neck, it was gaudy - a large faux gold piece of jewelry with four stones set into it. The stones looked precious, like emeralds and rubies but were only crystals. It looked tacky, the amulet was six inches across and its chain was made with big link loops, it made quite the fashion statement.

Now that he could see again, Cameron inspected the trove of Psychic’s, two were men, the rest female, he could determine the abilities with most ranging from two’s to a five. The odd thing was that the one women didn’t register, the one wearing the dreadful looking amulet. Cameron touched the amulet and the crystals cracked.

The woman jolted as if she’d been given a shock, the effects of the knockout gas nullified so she slowly gathered her senses, her eyes registered fear when she saw who sat cross legged in front of her with shining eyes.

“Who’s in charge here?” Asked Cameron, his voice echoing inside the tunnel.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Are you trying to hurt my feelings?”

“Tammuz ordered your death. You were locked up down in Hell.”

“Yet here I am, makes a person stop and wonder doesn’t it.”

“He’s a god, no one disobeys his command.”

“No one, really? Why’s that?”

“He can kill with a touch. I’ve seen it myself, he reaches into a person and pulls their soul out.”

“Sounds nasty, what does a soul look like?”

“It’s a wisp, like a puff of smoke. It has shape but no substance.”

Cameron smirked, then asked “What’s your name?”

“Shannon Hulls.”

“What is it you do Shannon?”

“I’m a Psychic, my job is to silence the minds of dissension.”

“How do you do that?”

“We remove from people’s minds that which gives them individuality, their memories. It makes them pliable and complacent.”

“Is there a way to restore a persons memories?”

“No, the mind is wiped clean of useless thoughts. Nothing remains of their past selfs, it’s of no value.”

“Says you. Tell me, how precious are your memories, how would you feel about having them taken from you?”

“I have no memories of my childhood, they weren’t needed. I was bought and trained by the Syndicate.”

Something about her struck a cord, she looked familiar somehow, then it dawned on the boy.

“You were with Doctor Brentwood, when he interviewed me.”

“He was to distract you while I searched your mind.”

“What did you find?”

“I couldn’t get in.”

“Good. Why didn’t you register as a mutant?”

“It’s the amulet Tammuz gave me, it masks the bearer.”

“Why would you be favoured with such a gift?”

“I oversee the Psychics at Delta.”

“Does that mean there are Alpha and Beta sites?”

“Up to Gamma.”

“Does the Syndicate run these?”

“It’s a Coalition, run under the auspices of those like Tammuz. Each member organization provides services as part of their obligation to the Coalition. The Syndicate supplies security personnel, technical advisors, and powered individuals such as myself.”

“How does the MCO fit into this organization?”

“They send technicians, mostly they’re the ones who corral Mutants by driving a wedge between them and their families once manifested, plus they are instrumental in fanning the flames of angst in society over Mutants. They then funnel Mutants to processing centres for equitable distribution to interested parties.”

“Is that what you call this place, a processing centre?”

“Yes, we provide a placement service ensuring Mutants receive gainful employment to benefit society.”

“What’s scary is you actually believe that. Sorry to burst your bubble but in truth: You’re running a slave trade, profiting off the misery you inflict onto others.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“Slavery is about the worst thing you can do to someone, stealing their free will. If you had a conscience you’d understand.”

“Free will is overrated, people need to be led, we’re lost without strong leaders to follow, those like Tammuz.”

“Free will is God’s gift to every man, woman, and child. Nobody has the right to take it, especially not some would be imposter like Tammuz. However, you bear heavy guilt for your crime of destroying lives.”

“Ha! And who do you suppose is going to judge me? I’m helping sustain this world order, there isn’t a government on earth that would dare interfere with the Coalition and put me on trial.”

“Who said anything about a trial. With such blatant disregard for the sanctity of life as you’ve demonstrated, you deserve death. I’d be free of bloodguilt in executing you.”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I was following orders.”

“Did you enjoy hurting others?”

“How can that be relevant?”

“It has everything to do with it. Tell me Shannon, did you enjoy hurting others?”

“Yes.”

“Even with your memories striped, you still had free will to obey or disobey, I’ve met those who’ve made right choices. You however chose to obey orders because it suited your heart. Every choice has consequences.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“That’s the first indication of intelligence you’ve shown me. So no, I’m not going to kill you, I haven’t decided what I should do with you yet. In the meantime, where do I find Tammuz?”

“Next floor up, blue level. He’s twelve feet tall and shines like gold, you can’t miss him.”

“Nothing like being obvious. Who else is part of this Coalition?”

“We’ve sold Mutants to most government agencies, especially the military - they pay top dollar for Bricks and Exemplars. Industry, Scientific Institutions, Churches. Anyone who buys from us needs to become a member - we patterned ourselves after Costco.”

He’d heard enough, so at that Cameron stopped her mind, she slumped to the floor unconscious.

Cameron walked back outside noticing that the water was building up in the basin he’d created, the Pit and the lowest level had filled with water, and it was continuing up to the second level. Cameron waved over to his companions on the far bank, shouting: “Send Albert!”

A minute later Albert the young Teleporter arrived by Cameron’s side, along with another newly freed youth named Paul - also a Teleporter.

“I have eight unconscious people inside, can you take them to safety? The mine is going to fill with water soon.”

The two Teleporters entered the tunnel, following Cameron’s lead fortunately they were still young and could fit into the tight passage Cameron had made.

“These are Psychics, likely the ones who erased your memories. Bind them and put them a safe distance away from everyone else in case they wake up.”

Leaving Albert and Paul to the task at hand, Cameron climbed higher up on the embankment nearing the upper lip of the hole where he spotted gun placements - or what remained of them. Some closest to the edge only had a crawl space remaining, while others had been sheared in half leaving them completely exposed.

The gun’s pillboxes had been carved into the hillside, bunkers hollowed out from behind and only accessible from a tunnel that ran parallel to the hillside, it was a tight little tunnel that might have been the original mine. The elevator shaft to the lower levels intersected with this tunnel at the back of a vehicle bay.

Scanning through the rock Cameron observed the activity within the fourth floor, blue level. He recognized some of the security guards from before, and Nick the technician from down in the Pit. He counted nine in total running about in barely orchestrated mayhem as they attempted to re-organize and fortify their position.

Off the fourth level’s main tunnel was a large antechamber, someone was busy working at a computer terminal while another occupied a very large chair, it was made such that it looked like a throne: Tammuz no doubt. Since he was so tall - and the only Avatar.

What was interesting was the escape passage, a secret tunnel ran up to the fifth level hidden behind a camouflaged entrance. The first rule of being a ruler: always cover your butt. This could work to Cameron’s advantage.

Looking at the hillside above him, Cameron noticed how the mines main entrance had been constructed, with the facilities core elevator being the focal point, the access for each level. Inside the main entrance bay sat a tank, it was an impressive piece of hardware, thick armour and sporting a huge gun. It had barely escaped being within Cameron’s dispersion area, still the tank wouldn’t be going anywhere, a mere foot ahead was a sharp drop off - the lip of the big hole getting filled with water.

With the bay getting exposed during Cameron’s massive outburst, Ella, Alan, and her father had been granted unhindered entrance to the mine. They had been wrecking a special kind of havoc upon the guards remaining at that level and prevented any others from trying to come up the elevator shaft.

Perfect, those inside can’t go up, and soon won’t be able to go down, to be trapped like rats, Cameron smiled - for the first time in a long while.

Returning his attention to Tammuz, Cameron tried to figure out a way to bring this showdown to a quick conclusion. Unfortunately, the big guy was never left alone, one of his attendants was always present. His room it seemed, was the base’s control centre, computers and monitors occupied much of a huge corner desk, with his minions coming to him in a steady stream.

Cameron climbed the remaining distance up - getting himself out of the hole, he used the tank as a handhold to step up into the bay. The tank turret rotated slightly to bring the machine gun to bear, but it slowed in its motion, stopping completely before the boy was fully sighted. The tank took on a blue hue, to then wink out of existence. The three men who had been inside looked around puzzled as to how they ended up sitting in the dirt with no tank to be found.

The men reached for their sidearms, a reaction to having a young boy with shining eyes standing before them, only to discover that their holsters were empty, as the men took stock of the situation a red fox darted between them, biting and slashing them with claws, they surrendered without a fight.

Cameron procured some rope, with which Ella began to restrain them, as they lay face down she bound their feet to then fashion a noose around their necks. The mens hands were raised behind their neck and tied together while holding loops of rope. When Ella was done, each man had to pull their feet towards their back so they could breath.

Stepping up beside the black panther, it was hunkered down in a crouch waiting to pounce upon the next security guard foolish enough to show themselves climbing up the elevator shaft. A fox was doing the same at the other elevator door.

“Eh, what’s up Doc?” Asked Cameron.

The Werecat turned in shock to see just who had approached him so quietly that he’d not heard them.

“Cameron!” Shouted Alan in joy, after shifting and standing, embracing the youth in a hug.

“It’s good to see you, how is everyone?”

“I’m here with Ella and her father Ulrich, Lynn and the gang got taken to Arkham, they’re being held.”

“Better there than here. What’s the plan?”

“Ulrich and Ella had looked for a way to storm the lower level.”

“No need, the water is rising, soon everyone below will be scrambling up for safety, we just need to wait.”

“The shaft is difficult to defend, too many soldiers could climb up at once.” Added Ulrich Oberon, as he joined the conversation.

“It is truth,” concurred Ella, her smile a story of friendship and relief.

“All right, what we need is a pinch point, so only one person can come up at a time,” decided Cameron.

Cameron had a wealth of stone in holding inside his Warehouse, he fashioned a thick floor inside the elevator opening adhering the rock to the shafts walls. Inset into the floor was a small circle, positioned over the shafts service ladder, around the ladder was a small diameter pipe that a person would have to struggle through to reach the surface.

The opening was so small that it would be a tight squeeze for just a person to fit into, they wouldn’t be able to carry anything with them if they wanted to get through the opening. Shots could be heard, the men below unsettled by the change and testing to see how solid the new barrier was.

“Now for the back door,” stated Cameron, as he moved towards the middle of the bay.

“There is only the single access,” countered Ulrich. “We found no other way down.”

“Would you let yourself be caught in a situation without having an escape route?”

“Certainly not,” conceded the crafty fox, seeing the validity in the boys assessment.

“Tammuz may not care about his men, but he’ll have a secret passageway for himself.”

“Where is it?”

“For it to be a secret, it has to have been well hidden.” Assured Cameron, as he conducted a full 360 degree survey. “Ahh! Sneaky.”

Cameron approached the large fuel storage area of the bay, a metal tank lay on its side with markings cautioning that it held combustibles. However one end of the large container was a false door with stairs leading down. Cameron found the latch to open it and looked down.

The staircase was dimly lit, a rail for a chair ran along one side of the steps. Cameron was raising his foot to enter.

“You would risk yourself, entering into the lions den?” Sought the elder Oberon.

“Better to cut off the head of the snake, than be distracted by the tail.”

“Will you accept me as your sword and shield?”

“You would sacrifice yourself to protect me?”

“I would give my life if it meant saving yours.”

“I would never ask that of anyone.”

“All the more reason for me to offer it.”

“I welcome you Ulrich as my Oberon and friend, as I have done with your daughter.”

Ella and Alan remained above, to ensure anyone who came up from below was not going to create a problem and give resistance.

Ulrich and Cameron slowly crept down the stairs, the air was stale and a layer of dust covered the stairs treads, the passageway didn’t get much use. A good secret is only kept if few know it. At the bottom of the stairs was a landing with a locked door to the side, it was Tammuz’s treasury chocked full of gold and gemstones and large piles of cash.

Ahead of them was blocked by a wood wall, it had a pivot in the middle so it rotated once a latch was triggered, it was a set of three pressure switches that needed to be pressed in the correct sequence.

The two waited for the right moment to strike, formulating a plan and making priorities.

Time to move, while Tammuz had only a single attendant in the room. She was monitoring computer screens. Cameron and Ulrich entered the room, Ulrich moved to the right to close the door to the room, Cameron stood by the hidden exit. They had debated about the computer, it might hold valuable data about what went on here, so Cameron’s first objective was to have the computer disappear into a blue cloud, the Exemplar attendant exclaimed a ‘Wha…” in surprise and stood to see the cause.

Tammuz turned on his throne to observe who dared to interfere, the tall and well muscled Exemplar moved towards Cameron, the woman drew a short sword from a sheath on her hip and positioned herself between the intruder and her master.

“You are nothing but an annoying gnat, dispose of him,” dismissed Tammuz, although he himself moved over to the now blocked door, and the Were who stood in his way.

“I was thinking the same thing, imagine that.” Retorted Cameron as he dodged a parry, the Exemplar telegraphed her thrust with the sword, she meant to skewer the much smaller boy.

The sword struck the rock wall behind Cameron, Cameron softened that rock causing the blade to become imbedded into the rock, then just as quickly the rock solidified holding the weapon fast.

“Need I say ‘only if you be worthy, shall the sword be withdrawn?’ - and you ain’t worthy.” Cameron couldn’t help toss out a taunt.

The strong woman managed to get a hold of Cameron by trapping him between her arms, she pushed him against the rock, holding him there with one arm as she pulled back the other arm to strike him. In the last second Cameron slipped out of her grasp, but not before her fist skimmed off his shield so it hit the rock with a loud crack. This time it was her arm that sunk into the rock, midway up to her elbow, well past the metal bracelet she wore, then she struggled to remove her hand, but it too like the sword was held fast.

The Exemplar used her other hand as leverage on the rock wall to try and pull her stuck hand out. Cameron had that hand also sink into the softened rock wall to have it also solidify, entrapping it.

“You’re not too quick on the draw are you?”

The woman let fly a scream of frustration, pressing against him she sought to bite Cameron. Cameron sighed at her single-mindedness and melded her boots into the floor, as a way to quieten her down he bonded her teeth together, she couldn’t open her jaw. In sympathy he placed a large lemon drop hard candy in her mouth, something to keep her occupied.

Escaping from the woman’s embrace Cameron saw Tammuz was battling Ulrich, they had each acquired swords which had adorned the rooms walls. Ulrich was far more skilled in the use of the weapon, but Tammuz stood head and shoulders above the Were, an advantage that thwarted his attacks leaving him only able to defend blows.

Tammuz wore a short toga with sandals that laced up to his knees, he wasn’t golden but bronze in colour, a body paint that gave him a sheen. Tammuz kept striking at Ulrich, trying to overcome the resistance the unrelenting Werefox offered. Even though Tammuz stood at twice a normal man’s height, he couldn’t break through with his barrage of swings and jabs, Ulrich had him stymied.

“Now Tammy old bean, how about we settle our differences without creating a fuss,” spoke Cameron as he got some distance from the struggling Exemplar.

“How dare you accost a god!” Tammuz said as he turned and sneered viscously.

“You call yourself a god, but are nothing more than a thief, hiding inside a human no less. Why don’t you let the poor fellow go?”

“You have no right to interfere. He granted permission!” Refuted Tammuz, as he lowered his sword. Ulrich stayed ready but didn’t attack letting the two verbally parry.

“Right or wrong isn’t at issue. You have usurped a persons life, conjoining is forbidden and punishable, regardless of having permission. And what of enslavement? Striping peoples identities, stealing free will. You’ve been naughty.”

“Ha! What of it? Earth is a no interference zone, what are you doing here?”

“This world is my home. You’re the invader, you’re the one interfering. I’ve been asked to keep an eye on things, as a watcher. And my oh my! Would you look at what I found.”

“Am I supposed to be scared? Of you?” Laughed Tammuz.

“I’m curious, why hadn’t you fled at the first sign of trouble? Your sort don’t like to be held accountable.”

“One of the Dark Warlords stinking pets killed my Portal Master, and my Teleporter. And the Cook! Did you set it loose?”

“It escaped of its own initiative, I only granted it some room to move.”

“All the more reason to kill you.”

“Always in such a hurry to spill blood, no attempt to bargain or ask leniency.”

“Would you offer such?”

“No, but where’s the harm in seeing you squirm?”

“I’m a god, I grovel to no man - or boy. You should bow before me, begging my forgiveness.”

“You forsook your proper place and were banished, but keep showing up on Earth, why?”

“If we can’t rule Earth, then it shall burn.”

“Then you have much to answer for.”

“You can’t imprison me, it isn’t time.”

“Oh sure I can, I might not be allowed to kill you, but putting your kind into holding is well within my purview. Granted it might not be as cosy as null space, but escape is less likely.” Confided Cameron. “Now be obliging and step out of that poor fellow.”

“We are merged, there is no separating us.”

“Oh please, we both know that’s a lie, propaganda your kind spreads cause you don’t like giving up a meal ticket.”

“I won’t, you can’t make me.” Tammuz made his move, he’d positioned Cameron so the boy couldn’t evade an advance. Tammuz threw his sword at Ulrich while he rushed at Cameron.

Cameron was caught and hoisted up getting slammed onto the ceiling, smashing the lights sending shattered glass and plastic everywhere. Tammuz pointed his hand like a blade thrusting it into Camerons chest.

End of Part 4.

Northern Vermont, Delta Site.

“Move a muscle and I’ll rip his soul out!” Threatened Tammuz as he gauged the warrior’s reaction to having his compatriot; a scrawny boy, held captive and hoisted overhead. The boy was pined fast against the ceiling by Tammuz’s left arm while his right hand was imbedded into the boys chest.

Cameron was stuck, with a huge arm pressing his torso against the ceiling he could barely breath, the pressure being used to hold him also restricted his chest and ribs. While the boy’s feet dangled unsupported in the air, kicking Tammuz in the head would win Cameron little advantage, so Cameron went limp allowing the scene to play out.

Pulling out souls was Tammuz’s trump card - he’d purposely demonstrated this devastating act before crowds to instil terror into his minions. It didn’t matter so much that soul searing was only a ploy that worked on Avatars: humans who had hallows and been subsumed by a spirit, it was the principle behind it that Tammuz sought. Fear!

Fear is a great motivator, fear of death has kept the masses and underlings in line for ages, fear of injury results in men cowering in corners to avoid being hurt. Spirits mastered inflicting fear and pain as weapons throughout their long campaign of conquest, harkening back to the time when they could manifest physical bodies.

Tammuz smiled, his assailants hadn’t pressed their momentary advantage of a surprise attack. Granted, of the two, the warrior was far more skilled with weapons than himself, he’d thwarted Tammuz’s escape by barring the door. Maybe in less confined circumstances it would be different, but here with Tammuz being so massive in tight quarters it worked against him, he knew when he was outmatched. However, Tammuz had stymied the warrior by grabbing the pitifully small boy, exploiting a hostage was well within Tammuz’s ideology, anything to turn the tide to his favour, win at any cost.

Ulrich for his part relaxed his defensive posture, he’d prevented the false god’s escape, per Cameron’s plan. Ulrich allowed his sword to lower until the tip touched the floor, resulting in the wary Were-fox leaning upon his sword’s pommel as he rested. A sign of deescalation, to let the battle’s focus turn to become a waiting game.

Tammuz repeatedly rammed the hapless and so far compliant boy into the ceiling to emphasize the superiority of his position, garnering some Oof’s from his captive who didn’t even squirm. Smugly, Tammuz allowed a smile to form upon his face, his ploy had succeeded brilliantly, obviously these two had no idea who they are dealing with.

Status reports from his lackeys had earlier informed Tammuz that Delta site was unsalvageable. The lower tunnels had flooded and the water was quickly rising. His command was compromised, he’d begun to plan his escape under the guise of assembling a counterattack. The Coalition supplied manpower were expendable, minions with no merit beyond obeying orders, do or die trying, deemed unfit if they retreated.

The minor God however had other plans for himself, none of which included surrender. His was to be a rise to glory and a position of power for his service under the grand scheme, nothing would stand in the way of his ascension to greatness. These two annoyances were an unwanted inconvenience, being weak without conviction, certainly little more than a pebble on his glorious path to victory. Besides, man was far beyond the means to mount any real insurrection, what he faced now was laughable at best.

However, word would spread how he’d let a key Coalition facility fall, undoubtedly he’d be blamed for this, his neck wrung by the Triune for his failure … everything he’d achieved so far would be turned over to another, there’s always another waiting to step up … unless! If he could turn this unfortunate mess around, capture the instigators, regain control of the escaped mutants. All would be forgotten and forgiven if he could deliver all of them - beaten and broken, ready for sale and distribution, he just might be rewarded instead.

“Surrender and the boy lives,” demanded Tammuz, the beginning of a plan falling into place, starting with mastery over these puny humans. Fortunately they have so many exploitable weaknesses.

The sword bearing warrior barring the door didn’t flinch, rather he ignored Tammuz’s demand and wasn’t swayed from his resolute stand, the man just stood his ground leaning against his sword. He was clever, his position in front of the door ensured it remained closed, prevented any from entering, or for that matter letting anyone leaving Tammuz’s chamber, that wouldn’t do!

“Drop your sword and get on your knees.” Tammuz demanded, he couldn’t help himself, he loved to see them grovel.

Ulrich remained stationary, unflinching, a guard staying at his post.

“Do it!” Shouted Tammuz, giving the boy a shake. “Otherwise I’ll kill him!”

“Not going to happen,” calmly replied the unflappable warrior.

~o~O~o~

Cameron had felt the swift blow delivered by the twelve foot tall giant, it struck him in the chest like a sledgehammer. His ribs hurt something fierce, but it turned out to be nothing more than a crafty display, just as Cameron suspected. The false gods hand was made to look like a blade. It so happened that as Tammuz moved his hand to strike the boy it curled into a fist. However, the Avatar spirits immaterial appendage was driven into Camerons flesh.

Although being repeatedly hammered into the ceiling wasn’t pleasant, the situation gave Cameron time to identify the stored energy Tammuz was hoarding within himself. His massive size was a manifestation of the huge energy reserve he’d accumulated. Time to tap into that.

With Tammuz’s ‘hand’ imbedded into Cameron a direct link was established, it was now possible for Cameron to siphon off energy like a leach engorging itself on blood. The flow of energy came fast once opened so Cameron gobbled it up, sending it directly into his battery.

Tammuz looked up at Cameron, his smug expression told of how he had no clue what was happening. However, when the oversized man attempted to extract his ‘hand’ out from Cameron’s body it wouldn’t budge, so instead he tried to dig further in and make a grab for the supposed immaterial spirit inhabiting the boy.

Tammuz’s power play failed to work as expected: “You have no soul!” he cried out in surprise, having been certain the boy hid a spirit within, why else had so pitiful a whelp attempted an insurrection.

“Correction, I am a living soul. What I don’t have is a wicked spirit roosting inside me. Nobody’s pulling my strings,” explained Cameron. His flippant remark enraged the giant resulting in Cameron getting slammed into the ceiling yet again, an ‘ooff’ indicating he’d felt that.

Turning to face Ulrich, Tammuz gave the old fox a wicked sneer of contempt, saying: “Such camaraderie! Aren’t you even going to try and rescue your friend?”

“He’s not the one being held captive,” responded Ulrich.

“What are you talking about? I am the victor here!” gloated Tammuz.

“I suppose you’ve been too busy to notice that you’re shrinking,” explained Ulrich.

“What!” Shouted the shocked Avatar, looking at himself in disbelief. He had shrunk nearly a foot and a half by his reckoning. “What are you?” Stammered Tammuz looking at the boy anew, giving him a violent shake since he could no longer slam him against the caves rough hewn ceiling.

The mistreatment resulted in Cameron’s glasses falling off his face, revealing shining golden eyes. Looking directly into Tammuz’s fear riddled eyes, Cameron said, “Surely you recognize the light of truth when you see it?”

Tammuz wretched at the sight, a physical revulsion racked his body causing him to stumble against a wall as he reeled from the revelation. Cameron was slammed against anything in the giants path as he tried to extract his hands, anything to break free from the entrapment.

Tammuz attempted to throw the boy as far away as possible with an overhead pitch of the boy’s body, but the connection between them held fast. Tammuz was stuck to Cameron, much like when a person is electrocuted and can’t let go of a live wire.

The motion Tammuz had initiated by trying to throw Cameron away resulted in the both of them tumbling to the floor, the shifted weight upending Tammuz’s balance so he performed a swan dive landing heavily on the floor, face first, his outstretched arms still attached to Cameron.

Cameron bounced across the floor smashing against chairs and a table, but managed to keep himself positioned above the giants head as they both lay sprawled out on the floor.

Tammuz couldn’t do anything but lay flat on the ground, his face pressed down against the rug covered floor, any attempt Tammuz made to rise up was thwarted by Cameron who would simply skid forward removing the leverage the giant needed to lift himself up. Tammuz had shrunk to less than eight feet and was losing his mass - and energy fast.

Ulrich stood still, his hands overlapped as they rested against the pommel of his sword. Tammuz made the effort to raise his head and look up at the Were warrior. The giant was well within striking distance and fear gripped the god for the first time in many an age, Ulrich put his foot onto the false gods head and moved his sword against Tammuz’s throat.

“I can end this quickly,” offered Ulrich.

“Killing the body doesn’t solve the problem, the spirit can jump to another,” announced Cameron, his eyes not breaking contact with the Avatar, who panted heavily as it laid on the ground in front of him.

Tammuz shuddered violently, his hands still unable to be removed from the hold he’d made onto the boy, no matter how hard he tried to break the link. “What are you doing to me?” He cried out in dismay.

“Draining you,” admitted Cameron. “You’ve certainly built up a considerable reserve of power.”

“It’s mine, you can’t have it!” Complained Tammuz struggling to extricate his hand without success.

“How is it that you’ve managed to collect so much?”

“I’m a god, it is my right.”

“You have a twisted concept of what’s right and wrong, considering you’ve been banished from the source. So tell me, how did you amass so much energy?”

“Binding to flesh has its benefits.”

“Certainly not enough surplus energy to account for what you’ve got stored up. Where did it come from?”

“My underlings, they pay me tribute.”

“I see, so, it stands to reason that you also must pay tribute to your superiors. How much is charged?”

“Fifty percent.”

“That’s a hefty price.”

“Better to rule in hell, than be a slave in heaven,” spat Tammuz.

“I’m curious, those two spirits you'd imprisoned down in the Pit: Bobo and Pascal, they worked for you?”

“Ungrateful fools, they thought to become independents.”

“I assume they didn’t like you pulling them out of hosts, performers for your little circus act to keep everyone in line.”

“Everyone has a role to fulfill, a part to play.”

“What is your part?”

“I am a prince.”

“Dandy! By your own admission you’re a prince of fools. Why enslave mutants?”

“By distributing empowered mutants, Meta-gene activated humans, we supply the weapons needed to those seeking dominance - those who want a place in our world order.”

“You fancy yourself a power broker?”

“Supply and demand, keep supply short so demand remains high. Demand can be very lucrative.”

“I gathered such from your little treasure trove over there. What use is money to an immaterial spirit?”

“Money is a power humans desire, it buys us loyalty and with it we can make humans do anything we require.”

“Who pulls your strings?”

“I am a god.”

“I understand that’s what you want to believe, what’s the truth?”

“Above me is a supreme council consisting of nine, three from each of the principle pillars of the triune. They administer the Coalition.”

“What are the triunes three pillars?”

“Government, Commerce, and Religion. It’s how control is kept over humanity, keeping them divided and unbalanced, always at each others throat.”

“Why did you infect man with the Meta-gene?”

“Ha! You would deny these humans their true potential. You must realize that they are limited, prevented from reaching the fullness of their purpose.”

“So you poisoned them, spiking their genetic codes, unraveling dormant traits without regard for the damage it brings.”

“We set them free.”

“You’ve created monsters, by manipulating their bodies you’re attempting to twist the very fabric of their existence. You’re ruining them!”

“As opposed to keeping them small and dependent.”

“Man needs to grow up before his full potential can be realized. Until he demonstrates the ability to master his mind and heart - so yes, his body must remain juvenile. Otherwise man would destroy himself and undoubtedly the rest of all creation due to immaturity.”

“There’s no possible justification for holding them back,” scorned Tammuz - what was left of him anyway now at below six feet tall. “As if isolating them from the rest of existence isn’t bad enough, you’d deny them their birthright and keep them stuck on this backwards planet.”

“Man needs time to learn and grow. Earth is our home and our’s alone. To meddle is a grave injustice. The barrier was erected to protect man from the likes of you, to give us the freedom to choose for ourselves what course to follow. But you and your kind is intent on interfering - this cannot be tolerated.”

“The Meta-gene is spreading, what we have started cannot be undone. Soon all men will manifest latent abilities. All those self righteous plans you believe in shall be for naught.”

“Then on top of your many crimes it includes genocide, because man is not ready yet. This much I have seen time and again, hatred and violence consumes man, it shall lead to their destruction. If not at their own hand, then when all are called to account.”

“You would condemn them and kill them off?”

“Not me personally. No.”

“But you accuse us of genocide, and here you are readying to destroy the earth.”

“There comes a point when the damage done is irreversible. Any failed experiment must get terminated at some point, it would be crazy to run headlong over a cliff when the results don’t meet expectations. Hopefully your tampering hasn’t entirely contaminated all of mankind - at least so far I’ve spotted a few humans who have shown insight to rise above base emotions, it’s better than starting over from scratch.”

“You seem to care a lot about a race you’re so easily prepared to discard. You are nothing more than cattle in comparison to us, easily distracted and so disorganized, your hopes for them are unfounded. Look how simple it’s been to torque them up, they eat up angst like candy and fight against each other over the smallest slight. Man makes such wonderful playthings.

“You endanger others for your amusement?” Judged Ulrich. “The Were never toy with animals for sport, and only take what food is needed.”

“Oh poor Were! Just getting a sense of things are we?” Chuckled Tammuz, now down to five and a half foot tall. “The Meta-gene was meant to unlock man’s full potential, a necessity after the Were got usurped by the Bastard and we ran out of warriors. A complete human would be far superior to the poor excuses that now populate this planet. If finally unleashed, man could rule the universe, but he’s being held back.”

“Is he speaking true?” Asked Ulrich of Cameron.

“Partially, mankind failed to demonstrate themselves capable of coping with the fullness of his potential. So man was given opportunity to prove his worth over time, grow up through dealing with responsibility. Judgement will depend upon how man acts, his morals and dignity being the measure,” confirmed Cameron.

“We’re talking about the same ‘man’ who’s so intent on building more guns while his neighbour’s are starving?” Puzzled Ulrich.

“It’s not all bad. When a human’s mental faculties get enhanced it often results in a lovely hallow cause they haven’t the wherefore-all to fill up all that empty space, it makes for a nice comfy spot for a disenfranchised spirit to set up shop,” laughed Tammuz.

“While denying that person the unassailable right to freewill! To live their life without interference or corruption from your kind,” accused Cameron.

“If it’s their hearts desire, how can that be wrong?” Countered Tammuz.

“But they aren’t following their heart - you and your kind are manipulating them at every turn, pushing them to do your bidding, so they follow your rebellious course. You’re making them become just like you,” assessed Cameron of the motivations at play.

“We’re only opening their eyes to opportunity,” reasoned Tammuz

“You’re leading them down the path to destruction,” affirmed Cameron

“Ha! Of course you’d say that. Your inclination is to have man blindly obey, be good little minions.”

“Man must be granted every opportunity to determine for ourselves right from wrong. But you’ve hidden the truth from us, masked your very presence in order to mislead. So far you’ve managed to corrupt society, convincing men that violence is the best way to solve problems.”

“It works. Why fix what’s not broken?”

“You’ve seen to it that we are denied the freedom to truly explore humanity, stopped us from finding our own way. Discovering that within ourselves we have a unique threshold for love, and a future to become who we should be.”

Tammuz had shrunk to a diminutive stature of five foot four from his former gigantic proportions, the spent figure lay exhausted on the floor. Cameron rolled over, the avatar’s entrapped hands disengaged from the boy, Cameron slowly stood and stretched his sore muscles, he’d taken a considerable beating from Tammuz.

Puddles of water had begun to coalesce in low spots across the floor, the water flooding the lower tunnels having risen to this level now.

What was left of Tammuz gathered up his loose fitting toga and moved to sit on his throne, looking like a tiny child in the huge chair. Ulrich kept vigilant watch over the humiliated spirit as it sighed in resignation.

“What happens now?”

“Now you give up your hold on that man, and come out of him.”

“We can’t be separated, we’re merged.”

“We both know that’s a lie, it’s your greatest fear isn’t it - losing contact with the corporeal world. It’ll be much less painful for you if you come out willingly.”

Tammuz screamed as the existential spirit exited the physical man, splitting from the man who gasped during the connection’s severing. The man slumped down in the chair, his eyes rolling back in his head, nearly fainting. A Wraith floated above the spent and now sobbing man sitting in the oversized chair. Cameron drew his golden sword from its concealment and in a single stab stuck the blade into the Wraith, snagging it firmly upon the blade as it writhed and screeched.

Forming an egg out of black rock Cameron stuffed the shrilling spirit into the solid container and sealed it closed. Silence fell as no more squeals came from the encapsulated wisp.

Ulrich and Cameron secured the egg onto the elevator chair in the escape tunnel. Before taking the egg up to the next level Cameron dissipated all the gold and gems in Tammuz’s treasure trove. Ulrich escorted the spent man up the stairs. Cameron released the binds that had secured the Exemplar who’d been imbedded into the wall, and she rushed out of the former throne room now ankle deep in water.

Upon arriving at the highest level and the gapping hole looking out to daylight, Cameron pushed the large egg over to the tunnel’s opening which faced out onto the new lake. Giving the egg a kick it rolled with a wobble to the lip of the embankment until it dropped into the water below with a splash, quickly sinking out of sight.

Floating in the lake was Hector, he had somehow managed to grab onto some wood and hung on - rising with the water inside the Pit’s shaft. Hector splashed as he struggled to reach the far shore away from Cameron, the egg’s splash warning him away. Hector stopped his struggle when he saw John on the far shore waiting for his arrival.

Leaving his Were friends to handle the remaining guards escaping from a watery tomb by climbing up the elevator shaft. Cameron walked around the lake shore, and stood in the creek’s waterfall to take a shower, wanting to remove far too many days worth of grime. He changed into his RCMP duty uniform and hiked up the steep slope to the hole’s edge, and headed towards the group of mutants waiting for him.

~o~O~o~

Drizzle fell in sporadic outbursts, quickly bringing chills upon the young mutants who didn’t have proper clothing to be out in the elements. Cameron had some tarps stored in his Warehouse dimension which they hung to provide at least some shelter, and the few blankets he possessed were distributed for warmth. However, Cameron had next to nothing remaining in the way of food to help satiate empty stomachs.

Huddled around a small campfire, Cameron was introduced to a Were-badger, the black enshrouded Were who Cameron had set free down in the Pit. The young boy was easily in the worst shape of any who had escaped that prison, Allan handed Cameron some white energy balls, the ones used to free the Were-badger from the torturous black contaminate, Cameron was able to make little pills out of the white energy balls.

“Eat these, they’ll help,” offered Cameron. ”What’s your name?”

“Fill Morison.”

“Phil, as in Phillip?”

“No, Fill, as in: ‘Fill all those darn holes you dug before someone breaks a leg.”

“How old are you Fill?”

“Fourteen.”

“Where is your family?”

“My tribe lived in Idaho, I don’t know what’s become of my family. I was protecting the youngest kids when our village was attacked by the black covered devils. I’ve no idea if I’m the only one still alive.”

“We’ll get you to the Medawihla, they might know something about your village, or the whereabouts of other Were-badgers.”

“Are you the golden eyed guy?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Even though I was covered in that black stuff, I remember everything. I saw your eyes, down in that hole, and - well, I’m glad to be free of that stuff.”

“I’m glad you made it. When you say you remember, do you know where the corrupted army is hiding?”

“I recall a couple places, do you want me to show you?”

“After we talk to the Medawihla, if you’re willing. I’m sure the Oberon's will want to hear all about it.”

“Oberon’s? You mean there’s more than one!, You must be the Golden Eyed guy.”

“Cameron, you can call me Cameron. I still don’t believe I’m the legendary Golden Eyed Man.”

The Were-badger was given space to rest as the other Were recounted their adventures of how they’d arrived here.

Ella’s Were senses picked up activity nearby and alerted Cameron to a vehicle’s approach, minutes later the noise of an engine and the crunch of tires on gravel could be heard in the distance. Soon enough a black sedan pulled into view through the trees, screeching to a halt just before it would’ve dived into the newly formed lake.

A second car could now be heard approaching, due to arrive in a couple minutes behind the first.

The two MCO agents inside the first car didn’t leave their vehicle, rather they tried to ascertain the danger from the safety of their car, taking pictures of the huddled group of mutants. It wasn’t until the second car pulled up behind the first that anyone made any move in a co-ordinated effort. All the MCO agents stepped over to the back of their respective cars and began loading themselves down with weaponry.

One of the agents, from appearances the senior one present, who brandished a large gun hoisted onto his shoulder, called out: “Nobody move, by authority of the MCO you’re all under arrest.”

Cameron stepped forward from the midst of the distressed group to address the antagonizing situation: “These people are under the custody of the RCMP, I do not recognize your authority to arrest anyone, so I shall not relinquish them over to you.”

“Dumb move kid,” commented the agent who had taken the lead. “The MCO has jurisdiction here.”

“Why is that?”

“We’re the first ones on the scene.”

“Not as I see it,” rebuked Cameron holding his police badge in view. “Besides, I can quote the MCO’s charter if you’re unaware of the details of your authority.”

“Don’t give me no lip boy. Put your hands in the air and get on your knees - all of you!”

No one moved, certainly none present would willingly submit themselves to the MCO, especially those mutants who had just recently escaped. They were now free from a life of tyranny, victims of the MCO who undoubtedly had a hand in their capture and responsible for handing the mutants over to become slaves.

The agent realized that the situation wasn’t going as he’d demanded, so he cocked his gun, loading a bullet into the chamber. If anything, it only caused his quarry, an assorted group of seventeen young mutants all wearing prison rags, to look at the agents with defiance.

As the aggressive MCO agent in front raised his gun to point at the mouthy little RCMP kid, the barrel drooped, sagging as if he was holding onto a wet noodle.

“Oh, wow, they really don’t make them like they used to do they?” Jested Cameron. “I’m guessing it’s not supposed to do that.” The comment ignited a fury within the MCO agent who reached into his holster for his pistol to shut the kid up.

Pulling out his sidearm the MCO agent was baffled, it didn’t feel right, instead of his trusty Glock he held a spatula which he looked at in disbelief.

“I suppose the question running through your mind right now is: Just where the heck did I put that darned thing? I hope your wife didn’t try using it to cook breakfast with.”

The man’s frustration burst, he yelled a primal scream while throwing the kitchen utensil at Cameron. The spatula bounced off the boy without touching him, as the man sought to pummel the kid with a series of punches. None connected, prevented by a thin barrier that stopped his blows short.

The distraught man took a step back, looked at his fellow agents for support, only to see that they too had been stripped of any useful weaponry.

The infuriated man lunged again at Cameron, only to be thwarted by Bob the Brick this time who’d inserted himself between the two. The MCO agent pounded his fists against Bob’s impenetrable brick field, as a wide smile spread across Bob’s face, satisfaction at seeing the hated agency’s representative’s futile efforts.

“What should I do with him?” Asked Bob.

“I’d say he’s a little hot under the collar, throw him into the lake to cool off before he hurts himself, or gets himself hurt,” recommended Cameron.

If MCO tossing qualified as a highland games event Bob was a contender. The agent flew almost three quarters of the way across the circular lake flopping about like a rag doll, making a huge splash upon landing into the still growing lake, garnering whoops of delight from the watching youth.

“Anyone else inclined to be a hindrance, or would you prefer to help?” Asked Cameron of the three remaining MCO agents. The older of the remaining agents approached Cameron, his demeanour looked reconciliatory until he got near enough to the boy. He spun quickly to strike the boy with a well practiced sweeping kick to the head.

The sneak attack came up short, the man’s foot was held suspended mid-air leaving the antagonist exposed, since he wasn’t able to withdraw his extended leg.

Cameron walked around his would be assailant, tsk’ing before asking: “Anyone else want a chance at throwing out the trash?”

Another brick named Norbert held up his hand asking if he could give it a go. Cameron invited him to do his best. The Second MCO agent sailed across the water like a spinning cartwheel to a chorus of Oooh’s bursting into cheers as the man made a big splash as he entered the lake head first.

Neither of the two remaining MCO agents volunteered to be the next one chucked into the frigid lake. Instead they surrendered by raising their hands - offering use of the MCO’s computers to access the agencies database to assist identifying the memory stripped mutants encircling them.

By the time DARPA arrived, swooping down in a big helicopter with ground support arriving soon afterwards, Vermont State Troopers arrived on the dirt road resulting in a long line of vehicles attending the site. The majority of the freed mutants had been able to discover their true identities by checking records retained on the MCO’s database, it was a victory, even if it resulted in shed tears.

Before the mutants begin to be shuttled off to police stations in nearby communities by the state troopers, Cameron split Tammuz’s stash of monies between all of them. Money in itself wouldn’t account for the hurt brought upon them, but maybe it’d help ease them back into the life nearly from them.

Arkham Research Centre

A single large white van drove into the parking lot having passed through the facilities security booth, the van circled up under the carport and halted in front of the glass entrance doors. The vehicle’s side door opened and out stepped a lone youth dressed in a green wool sweater and khaki pants. He spoke to the vehicle’s remaining occupants before he looked side to side, to then enter the imposing complex.

The building’s large glass doors slid open automatically leading into a spacious foyer, off in one corner was a seating area situated in front of a fireplace, the flame was artificial but lent to a cozy atmosphere with the leather couches and tables placed to encourage conversation. The rest of the space available was wide open to impress visitors, with chairs scattered about near the outside walls.

The interior walls had modern art works adorning them, abstracts with colours matching the foyer’s decor, subtle colour hues that brought calm to the observer. The whole room was meant to instil peacefulness while stating the organization’s professionalism.

The front desk was across the expansive foyer from the fireplace, the attendant was an attractive young girl, in keeping with most businesses liking to have a pretty face be the first contact made at their company. This girl was agitated, Cameron noted the flashing red light hidden under the countertop. It wasn’t known if she’d hit the silent alarm when the van drove up, or if it had been initiated from the Security checkpoint in the parking lot.

Directing his attention upon the rattled young lady handling the desk, Cameron noticed how much she was unnerved, her rapid pulse rate and spiked adrenaline levels indicating her stress.

She stuttered when saying: “Welcome to Arkham Research Centre. How can we help you today?”

“I would like to speak with whoever is in charge. You’re holding three friends of mine against their will, I would like them released please,” detailed Cameron.

“I see, and your name?”

“Cameron Burke, my pseudonym is Outlook.”

“And who is it you’re looking for?”

“Marcus Johnson, Ken Tallman, and Al Koenig.”

“I’ll notify the doctor in charge of their care, he’ll be with you in a moment. Would you care for something to drink while you wait?” As she gestured to a refreshment stand at the end of the counter.

“No thanks, I’ll pass. To be honest I find Arkham’s hospitality to be somewhat dubious.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your excused. I’ll understand completely if you find it necessary to run and hide.”

The girl looked at him with an expression of bewilderment, but didn’t leave her post. Rather she busied herself straightening items on her desk before taking a phone call, after which she quickly stepped to a door on the wall behind the desk. With a hurried look over her shoulder back at Cameron, she scanned a security card that opened the locked door through which she escaped.

Out from that same door came a man wearing doctor whites, he was fairly tall, but when compared to Cameron - who wasn’t. The doctor moved closer coming around the counter, rubbing his hands which Cameron took to be a nervous reaction.

“Splendid, just splendid. I’m so glad you’ve finally come. If you'll follow me we can begin testing,” greeted the doctor.

“You are?” Puzzled Cameron, he’d already read the identification tag on the man’s lapel but better to be polite.

“Dr. Michaels, come, come, we’ve so much to do and times a wasting. I’d hoped you’d have gotten here sooner.”

“I’m going to have to disappoint you further doctor. I didn’t come here to submit myself to testing. I’ve come to collect my friends and be on our way.”

“Dear oh dear. That just won’t do. Your friends are suffering from delusional episodes and are in need of psychiatric care. They can’t be allowed to leave, heavens no, they’re not cured yet. Besides, now that you're here, I’m certain we can help them along to a speedy recovery.”

“Just what delusions are they experiencing?”

“They are adamant about having witnessed miracles. Obviously figments of a deluded mind. We can’t have people like that roaming the streets, goodness no. They’re a danger to themselves and all right minded individuals.”

“I see, miracles you say? Something like objects appearing out from nowhere for instance?” Questioned Cameron as he set a large hefty green stone Inuit carving of a polar bear down onto the counter.

Dr Michaels stared at the skillfully carved artwork, reaching for it he checked its weight and turned it around before commenting: “A clever trick,” admitted the man.

“If it were a trick I suppose so,” reprimanded Cameron. “Can you explain this away as easily?” At which Cameron brought out from Warehouse a bicycle, which appeared beside him in a quick blue flash. “Do you suggest perhaps I had this hidden up my sleeve?”

Dr Michaels ‘hurmpt’ loudly, unconvinced at the display.

“In consideration that you too have now also seen something miraculous, shouldn’t you be committed as well?”

“That’s preposterous! Trickery or some sort of teleportation no doubt.”

“So you deny what you saw then?”

“No.” Back pedalled the scientist, not sure how to extricate himself from the corner he was painting himself into.

“But you feel justified for incarcerating those who stand by what they’ve seen?”

“Of course, the only way to expose the unknown is through scientific discovery and thorough study.”

“Are you a man of faith Doctor?”

“I’m a scientist, there’s no place for unsubstantiated beliefs, science deals in facts.”

“I didn’t ask you if you believed in God, I wanted to know if you had faith. You believe in science which demands just as much faith as religion. Any experiment must adhere and conform to established standards to attain repeatable results. So, no doubt you employ the scientific method to discover the 5 W’s.”

“Of course, it’s the foundation of all scientific reasoning.”

“But have you considered the ramifications of what would happen, if say, through your scientific studies, you proved the existence of God?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am imbued by God. If that holds true, there’s a large probability that you’ll discover the opposite of what you’re hoping to find.”

Dr Micheals ‘hurmpt’ at the absurdity of it all.

“Tell me, are you at all familiar with a quote attributed to Sherlock Holmes? ‘When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’”

“Your point?”

“Do you understand the equation E=MC squared?”

“Einstein’s theory or relativity, certainly.”

“Einstein expressed with his formula how it would be possible to extract energy from matter, through him we entered the atomic age - releasing the blessing and the malediction. What do you hope to gain from you studies?”

“The furtherance of mankind.”

“As did Einstein. Yet Einstein himself tried to stop the making of atom bombs, he felt man would destroy himself with the very knowledge Einstein had unveiled. To be honest, I will not allow you to explore what I can do, for the simple reason man isn’t able to handle the truth of it.”

“You would be so selfish?”

“Selfish? No! Consider how little effort it takes to demolish a house, compared to how much work it took to construct it. Smashing an atom releases vast amounts of energy. However, to make a single atom takes hundreds of times more energy. Man cannot wield that kind of power, it would be like standing on the sun, he can’t do it. I won’t expose mankind to such risk.”

“You can make matter?”

“Far from it, at best I can only gather one-tenth of the energy it would take. I can only rearrange matter, refurbishing and replenishing it.”

“Would allowing me to study that be so wrong?”

“Yes. Because it opens the door to something the Creator has left for only himself to have mastery over.”

“You’re implying you won’t help me because God doesn’t want anyone else to have access to such power?”

“In part, only God Almighty can harness that much power, and not destroy reality in the process. Isn’t that what a loving parent does, protect his children? Telling them ‘don’t touch’ if something is dangerous.”

“I don’t believe in God.”

“That’s alright, he believes in you.”

“Are you implying you’re some heavenly apparition, like an angel?”

“No doctor, I am simply a gifted human with the job of uncovering hidden agendas, a spy if you like, mine is not to be a messenger.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are focused upon unraveling secrets man isn’t ready or willing to accept. You are being asked to stop. Given the opportunity to change your course and pursue a more fruitful endeavour, one in line with your preconceived objectives. Honestly, you would be thrown out of serious scientific circles if you released a paper purporting the existence of God. So you are being shown dignity, even though you’ve sought to deny it to others.”

“You mean I’ve humiliated your friends, and tried to manipulate you.”

“Yes Doctor, that is part of it.”

“I don’t agree with your conclusions, but I can understand why you’ve made them.”

“Thank you. Might I ask you to keep this to yourself?”

“Who would I tell? Nobody would believe me.”

“Fair point. Now, about the release of my friends?”

A secondary entrance into the foyer burst open, interrupting the discussion. A short stout man wearing an ARC Security uniform strut up to the facilities greeting station. Accompanying him was another similarly clad man, but this one didn’t walk with the same swagger or have the same puffed out chest.

“Excellent Dr. Michaels, you’ve kept him busy. We can take it from here.” Stated the Security man with bluster, his uniform marking him as a lieutenant. He forcefully grabbed Cameron’s arm, twisting it behind the boys back and pinning him against the reception counter.

“What are you doing?” Exclaimed a shocked doctor. “Let him go!”

“You didn’t actually listen to this boy did you? You know he gets into peoples’ heads, messes with their minds. Manipulates them!” Was claimed by the man while Cameron’s hands were forcibly handcuffed.

“You don’t understand,” claimed Dr. Micheals.

“I understand perfectly well. You best leave this particular threat to us. It’s what we’re trained for,” commanded the Security Lieutenant pushing the doctor aside to distance him away from Cameron.

A tinkling sound was heard like an orchestras triangle, much like the noise an elevator makes when stopping at a floor. However, this was the telltale noise a certain contracted Teleporter made when arriving at her destination. Along with the Teleporter came Detective Roberts, who stepping into the foyer behind the young woman, he was a little shaken from the experience but quickly assessed the room.

The senior Security Lieutenant spoke first “So glad you came Detective. I’ve apprehended this delinquent, he’s a known dangerous mutant that’s evaded capture and wanted for numerous crimes. Did you wish to read him his rights?”

“I’m here to enact a search warrant, to secure the release of three men who have been wrongfully incarcerated,” explained Roberts. “I was detained at the courthouse, but that young man is with me. Release him immediately!”

“Not you too!” Decried the Security man. “This boy lies like a sidewalk, he messes with peoples’ brains, you can’t believe a thing he says.”

“I didn’t say anything,” commented Cameron.

“Shut up you,” demanded the Security man smacking the back of his head with a slap. “You’ve turned Doctor Michaels into a mindless imbecile.”

“I am in complete control of my faculties,” defended Dr. Michaels.

“Of course you’d say that. It’s what this menace wants you to believe,” shouted the Security man getting agitated, seeing the situation had deteriorated. On impulse he grabbed his gun from its thigh holster seeing the tide had turned against him. The gun was a short double barrel shotgun, he raised it up to Camerons chest and fired both rounds mere inches away from the boy.

The blow caught Cameron off guard, his force depleting barrier prevented the lead shot from impacting, but the combination of a sudden attack along with how close the guns discharge was. The blast pushed Cameron backwards, knocking the wind out of his lungs as he was hurled across the open foyer, fortuitously he landing upon the upholstered chairs which were lined up along the glass wall.

Cameron lay sprawled out gasping for air, he dissipated the handcuffs restraining his arms and adjusted himself to ease the effort it took to breathe. The Security Lieutenant ran over - now brandishing his baton and prepared to strike the prone boy as he recovered. The batons impact connected with the boys protective field, making a loud ‘crack’ resulting in the Security man dropping his baton and uttering obscenities as he clutched the arm that had wielded the baton.

The Security Lieutenant stood overtop Cameron, swearing a blue streak before bending down to retrieve his baton, he preparing for another strike, sizing up a choice spot to hit. A click beside his ear made him rethink his choices.

Detective Roberts held his revolver to the side of the Security man’s head: “You are under arrest for assault. If you so much as twitch I’m within my rights to put a bullet in your brain.”

The man dropped his baton, raising his hands in surrender. All eyes fixed upon the unfolding scene. It was a long wait since Roberts’ gun didn’t move from its deadly location; pressed against the Security guard’s head just behind his ear. It was a standoff with the Detective trying to decide if the moron had twitched when he’d dropped his baton. Really, it was a question of if Roberts wanted to be bothered with doing all that paperwork.

Securing his gun into its holster, Roberts grabbed his handcuffs and locked them onto the man’s wrists, saying: “I hereby place you under arrest for aggravated assault, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to -“.

“You’re making a mistake,” interrupted the Security Lieutenant. “You’re being manipulated, that kid gets into a person’s head and screws with them.” Argued the Arkham’s Security man, as his hands got restrained. “Arrest him!” He shouted as he tried kicking at the downed Cameron who was still lying across a chair. “He’s a threat!”

“He is a police officer, assisting in carrying out a duly authorized search warrant, You are guilty of obstructing the police and causing bodily harm. Shut up and don’t make this worse for yourself,” instructed the Detective.

Detective Roberts offered Cameron a hand to help get him back onto his feet, the youth grabbed the kindly offered hand and stood up, he straightened his clothing and wiped his nose with his hand which had a trickle of blood from off his face.

After assuring everyone he was ‘Okay’ Cameron asked “Can I ask him a question?” gesturing to the handcuffed Security man.

“He’s not been read his rights, if he choses to say anything, that’s up to him,” counselled Roberts.

After removing his reflective silver glasses Cameron looked the man in the eyes, asking: “Who do you work for?”

“I work at Arkham Research Centre.”

“Allow me to rephrase that, Who pulls your strings?”

“I ensure the Coalition’s interests are upheld.”

“Is Arkham in the Coalitions pocket?”

“Not directly, but many have been positioned throughout society to keep the Coalition’s needs foremost.”

“Ones like you?”

“Yes.”

Cameron broke the connection by looking away, after further stepping away he sought Detective Roberts to resume control of the situation, and have the man’s rights read.

Doctor Michaels stood transfixed, agog at the scene, his resolve having shattered. “Amazing, absolutely amazing,” uttered the doctor. Unable to deny what had happened, and shocked from having witnessed how Cameron came away from the assault without serious injury.

“Do you suppose you’ve witnessed something miraculous?” Pondered Cameron. “Do you need to be locked up? Like my friends?”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” stumbled the doctor deep in thought. “Are you certain about not letting us observe you? We could learn so much.”

“No, on that I remain resolute.”

“But … I”

“Are you prepared to face the consequences of what we spoke about? Choose carefully what you say next Doctor, the Detective here has the weight of the law behind him, to obstruct justice might damage your career,” cautioned Cameron.

“Shall I have them brought up?” Was sheepishly offered by Doctor Michaels.

“Yes, please. And Doctor; if they have been mistreated, it won’t be looked upon favourably.”

Whateley Academy, Front gate

The proximity alert which had been placed upon the sole access road leading up to Whateley Academy attracted Arthur’s attention, the cameras Whateley Security had recently installed displayed an array of viewpoints, to capture activity upon the single roadway leading up to Whateley’s gated access. The road continued past the school into the forest beyond, but no one lived on tribal lands past the school, so nearly all traffic on the road was destined for Whateley.

A convoy of six vehicles had triggered security’s latest installation, The early warning system gave Arthur enough time to close the school’s gates, and signal a warning of potential trouble to Kane Hall: Security’s headquarters.

The convoy pulled to a stop outside Whateley Academy’s main entrance, the string of government issue vehicles, some with flashing red and blue lights, halted just outside the school and parked across the road from Whateley’s closed entrance, the cluster of vehicles blocked most of the roadway.

The automated gates had finished closing just before the cars approached, Arthur noted that they needed to swing closed quicker, so those arriving didn’t see them closing and take it as a gesture of unwelcome, although closed gates kind of made that statement regardless. Arthur checked that the camera feed from the gatehouse was recording, and was getting supplied to the control room’s mainframe at Kane Hall.

The line of cars sat motionless for a brief time before three people exited from the two white passenger vans, the vans which had been positioned in the middle of the police escort. Ahead of the vans sat two New Hampshire State police cruisers, behind the vans were another two vehicles: an unmarked car, and then another State police cruiser at the rear.

Arthur watched the three representatives approach after they had spoken with the officers in the unmarked car behind the vans. Of the three, the one on the right was a solid looking man at six feet tall with a large barrel chest, he adjusted his service belt and checked his tie before folding his arms across his chest, heightening his annoyed appearance. The man’s countenance was serious and held an altogether unpleasant expression. Arthur didn’t even need to guess, a brick if he ever saw one.

The man on the left held a more relaxed look about him, not necessarily jovial but he certainly didn’t look as threatening or as put-out like the other man was. But still, the second man managed to convey a sense of purpose, and he was wary of his situation, scanning the surroundings for signs of trouble. He looked long and hard at the faceless gargoyles mounted overtop the schools entrance gate posts, it was a long time before his gaze moved elsewhere. The man’s defined physique was well toned and he was a strikingly handsome fellow, but he looked rough and tumble in his manner. It was a matter of how he moved and carried himself, it said he could hold his own if push came to shove. From all indications this man was only a skilled baseline human, but looks can be deceiving.

It was the small scrawny kid in the middle that was unsettling to Arthur, his eyes were covered behind a pair of reflective silver glasses. But more importantly his posture bespoke of someone who would rather be anywhere else than here. The kid was nervous and constantly looking side to side at his companions, it hinted that by being between the other two, it gave him the courage to approach the school. He carried no discernible weapons, that alone alerted Arther to danger since it screamed out a threat level of unknown proportions.

The two men and the boy stopped just shy of the school’s multilayer shields, Arthur knew the exact line those formed across the roadway, and around the entirety of the school’s fenced property. It was as if these newcomers could sense them, since they didn’t cross over the shielding and kept distanced. It was the kid that had halted them.

They all wore matching police uniforms, but from this distance Arthur couldn’t make out what department. Not state police, those had remained in the cars, but these three certainly represented an authority - it signalled trouble. He zoomed one of the mounted cameras in to accurately see an RCMP chevron on a uniform, curious.

Arthur exited his small little stone guardhouse, his one hand never straying far from the holstered gun hung on his belt. Stepping up behind the closed gate Arthur noted how the sentinel gargoyles seemed attentive to the goings on - gad’s those things freaked him out, even after all these years.

Arthur called over to the three: “Something I can help you gentlemen with?”

“We would like a word with Mrs. Carson, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble?” Spoke the one in the middle, the mysterious young boy.

Arthur’s face twitched, the politeness they’d offered conflicted with the situations potential for escalation. “Does she know you’re coming?” Puzzled the man.

“I suspect she does, but we haven’t got an appointment.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“No, we just wished to have a conversation at this time, if a warrant is needed we can arrange one, depending upon the outcome of this visit.”

“I can call for an escort to take you three up to Administration if you’d like, but it would be best if the rest of you waited here, we don’t like interrupting the students on short notice.”

“No thanks, driving in didn’t work out too well last time. If it’s not asking too much, could Mrs. Carson come here?”

“I can see if she is available, please wait a minute.” Arthur hoped Kane Hall was watching and monitoring the goings on, reinforcements would sure be nice.

Arthur picked up the phone and dialling up Admin’s number, he waited for someone to answer, he quickly glanced back to the three standing outside the gate and waved at them to show he was attending to their request. Arthur then swept the camera to show Security the row of waiting vehicles positioned along the road, he attempted to count the men inside them - armed policemen, eight of them!

It was Mrs. Claire who answered the phone, thankfully! She was a sweetheart - so much nicer to talk to then that Heartless woman. “It’s Arther up at the front gate, we’ve had some surprise visitors arrive, they’re asking to speak with Mrs. Carson.”

“I don’t have anyone scheduled.”

“No Ma’am, they said as much.”

“That’s expecting a lot. It isn’t as if we can just drop everything to accommodate them.”

“Yes ma’am, very inconsiderate of them! But in my experience police aren’t often concerned with anything other than their own interests.”

“Oh my! The police. How many of them are there?”

“I’ve counted six State Troopers, three RCMP, and another two from an undetermined agency, and I can’t make out who all is in the passenger vans, all told more than a dozen. So far it’s only the three RCMP who’ve asked to speak with the headmistress, a little outside their territory I’d say.”

“You did say RCMP, right?”

“Yes Ma’am, very cordial and all - just like you’d expect from Canadians. State Troopers haven’t said anything yet. It’s just - I believe they could get a warrant if motivated, I think it would be best if we can avoid a confrontation.”

“Hold tight Arthur, I’m going to see if Elizabeth is available.”

Mrs. Claire put the phone on hold as she rushed over and knocked on the headmistress office door, she used her special knock; three rapid knocks followed by a single knock - code that something required immediate attention. The entire office hit pause, Claire’s code alerted everyone to trouble.

“Enter” called Mrs. Carson, as she hung up her conference call.

“Elizabeth, situation at the front gate. Arthur has a contingent of Police asking to speak with you.”

“Has Kane Hall been notified?”

“I believe so, Arthur is on line four.”

Picking up the phone the headmistress took command: “Arthur, what’s happening?”

“I have three RCMP officers at the gate, asking to speak with you. They arrived with an assortment of state troopers, and what might be a federal presence also.”

“Describe these RCMP.”

“One’s large, looks to be a brick. The other is younger who in my guess is a baseline native. The third is just a kid, on the small side too, wearing silver glasses that hide his eyes. Damnedest thing is - he looks to be the one in charge.”

“Outlook! Tell me; have they been confrontational? Does this appear like it will escalate?”

“I can’t rightly say, They’ve been right sociable so far, they said they haven’t a warrant at this time, but there’s enough of them parked out front to start a small war.”

“Has Security been alerted?”

“Yes Ma’am, They have a live camera feed, and I’ve been hearing lots of activity over the radio. One moment Mrs. Carson, Sam Everhart is calling me, I’ll patch her in.” The phone beeped saying another party had connected “Sam, I have the Headmistress on the line.”

“What’s happening Arthur?”

Elizabeth interrupted saying: “Outlook is at the gate asking to speak with me.”

Sam commented: “Now I know why Delarose always likes taking Tuesdays off. This is the same kid who rendered everybody at Whateley senseless, then battled voodoo wolves with the Medawihla. ”

“That’s the one,” inserted Elizabeth.

“I should let you know: Hive is recommending I have no further interactions with Mr. Burke, it hasn’t developed any effective countermeasures since our last encounter, and classifies him as an extreme threat.”

Mrs. Carson hmm’ed, “I’m not sure how Outlook will react to a show of force on our part. It’s just that we can’t capitulate to him, we have students to protect.”

“You feel it will come to that?”

“It sounds like he’s willing to talk right now, but what happens if it gets out of hand? He might give up on being polite and do heaven knows what. We’d be hard pressed to stop him if past experience has shown us anything. For that matter, he could be here to arrest anyone who’s ever so much as looked sideways at him. We can’t let that happen, the school’s stance on neutrality won’t allow that.”

“So we’re facing a potentially hostile teenager, who Whateley inadvertently mistreated and essentially ran out of town. The same kid who’s also initiated legal action against the school.”

“There’s that,” concurred Mrs. Carson. “And we’re harbouring his friends.”

“Then we should hear him out,” calculated Hive. “Do we send Marissa Dawson out as our legal counsel to speak for us?”

“Meet me at the front gate, I’ll ask Marissa to join us, three on three makes us equal. Keep Security out of sight but on high alert. I’ll have Mrs. Claire gather up Outlook’s friends just in case.”

“Elizabeth, if what we know about Outlook is correct, it’s quite possible he can already see everyone at Whateley. If I put Security on high alert it could be construed as an aggressive move on our part. Is it your intention to use his friends as hostages?”

“Ideally as a welcoming committee, but we’ll play it by ear. Just tell your men to be ready for anything, in case of trouble.”

“Ah! Fly by the seat of our pants and try not to screw everything up. I’ll be there in under five minutes.”

~o~O~o~

A Security cart zipped along the gravel driveway with two people aboard, Admiral Samantha Everhart drove as Marissa Dawson held on for dear life, Whateley Securities patrol carts had been highly modified as an automotive class project, and could be used to compete in the Dakar rally. It didn’t mean Marissa enjoyed the experience of endangerment or sought the thrill Sam seemed to relish.

The Admiral parked near to the guardhouse as Arthur stood in the doorway taking on a look of relief from the two’s arrival. As the newcomers approached the closed gate Admiral Everhart and Mrs. Dawson were joined by Elizabeth Carson, she’d flown in low just above the tree tops which lined the driveway. The heroine landed gracefully as she took up a position beside Marissa, who somehow ended up being in the middle of the trio.

Before the Whateley contingent had greeted each other, of even conferred on how to proceed, Outlook called out: “Mrs. Dawson, good to see you again, you look well.” Which received a head nod in acknowledgement from the lawyer.

“Security Officer Everhart we haven’t met, but I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for the injuries I caused. I’m so glad to see you’ve healed. Had I been familiar with your composition - I’d like to think we could have avoided that mishap.”

Admiral Everhart replied, “I appreciate your concern Mr. Burke.”

“Mrs. Carson. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to speak with us.”

“Whom do you have with you?” Questioned the headmistress.

“Pardon me, I hadn’t realized you might not know my companions. On my left is Constable Ken Tallman, a dear friend and teammate at RCMP Special Investigations. To my right is Roche de Boule, otherwise known as Sergeant Al Koenig, also with Special Investigations.”

“What can we do for you gentlemen?” Asked Marisa Dawson.

“We’ve come to see about having my friends returned to us. I’d received word that they are under your care here at Whateley Academy. As you can see, transportation arrangements have been made to provide us an escort to cross the border.”

Tension wained at the admission. Elizabeth released the breath she had been unconsciously holding, the revelation of intent notched down the anxiety, even Sam’s stance relaxed ever so slightly.

“Your friends have been afforded the greatest care while with us, they’ve been attending classes, and from all accounts been enjoying their time with us.” Informed the Headmistress in an attempt to gauge the boys temperament.

“I hope they have had a better experience behind these bars than I received,” commented Cameron gesturing at the closed gates.

“Again you attempt to malign this school’s good reputation, that is uncalled for,” refuted Mrs. Dawson at the impugned slight. “Students at Whateley are given the best treatment and education available.”

“I suppose that’s a matter yet to be determined, one I am willing to be left with the courts to decide. However, I didn’t come here to quarrel with you, I’m only seeking to find my friends and help them get back home. All other concerns can be dealt with another day.”

“I’ve arranged for Mrs. Claire to take them to their rooms and gather up their belongings, in preparation …” a whistling sound could be heard coming from the tree’s behind the RCMP entourage, interrupting Mrs. Carson as she finished by saying: “They should be joining us shortly.”

The whistling sound was a launched grenade, coming through the air, arcing overtop the parked vehicles and landed in the open space between the parked cars and trio standing outside the schools closed gates. The ordinance exploding in very close proximity to Cameron and his teammates, the grenades extraordinarily intense conclusive blast threw Cameron upward and pushed the boy forward, Cameron was put into contact with the school’s protective forcefield creating a huge energy flare.

Cameron was slamming hard against the multilayered invisible barrier, nearly anyone else could pass through the schools shields unhindered, but not Cameron. Cameron’s own protective energy field couldn’t interface with Whateley’s impressive barriers, it resulted in Cameron being hurled away in a colourful blast as incompatible energies collided. Cameron had already gone limp, a result of the unanticipated blast, still, the boy was tossed backwards, twisting haplessly through the air, across the distance to smash against the undercarriage of an overturned van.

The blast wrought severe damage when it formed a deep crater in the gravel driveway in front of the school’s gates, all the cars had been either overturned by the intensity of the explosion, or had been shaken to such an extent that the occupants had been immobilized.

Samantha Everhart had acted quickly, she had yanked Marissa Dawson to the ground and thrown her body overtop the lady lawyer. The Admiral herself had come away with little damage, but from the groan Mrs. Dawson gave she was badly shaken and in need of medical attention. Sam laid still but scanned the scene.

Ken Tallman had been thrown by the massive blast too, but passed unhindered through the forcefield, he impacted against the school gates upright metal bars. The RCMP officer slumped heavily against the still closed gate, an arm and his head poking through the slotted barrier, bones had broken given how he lay, blood dribbled from his mouth at each strained breath.

Sam called for medical assistance from Doyle, Hive’s link to the schools network gave her quick access for issuing alerts.

The other RCMP, Roche deBoule rolled over from where he had been laid out. His brick field protecting him from most of the explosion, but still it upended him and thrust him aside landing him against the school’s rock fence. The large man raised himself onto a knee, and shook his head to clear it before attempting to gain his footing, he wiped a trickle of blood from both nostrils upon his sleeve, and spat out yet more blood before looking around at the damage and for what had become of his associates.

Hive estimated that the attack was exponentially greater than what a simple flash-bang grenade could deliver, it spoke to the use of a devise, a nasty one at that, not something available on the open market. From previous queries on the web, Hive could only list six devisors deranged enough to make such a bomb, reduced to just three who were sick enough to actually use one.

Everhart stood and then carried Marissa over to the cart, strapping her into the passenger seat. She then stepped over to the mangled gates, bent and twisted from the blast, she pulled one side open enough to get through and extracted Ken Tallman from the wreckage. His breathing was laboured and shallow, but he breathed. Sam lifted him as careful as she could and carried him to the waiting cart, laying him in the back of the cart. Thankfully the cart started and rolled away on the gravel with a slight wobble.

Elizabeth Carson was hung up high in a tree, caught in a mess of branches. The explosion had such impact that she had been thrown the distance having her crash-land into one of the trees along Whateley’s driveway. She was unhurt due to her exemplar fortitude, but it didn’t mean she was happy. Liz dropped to the ground with a degree of unsteadiness in her legs as she walked towards the damaged gate as Sam drove past.

Mrs. Carson, who had come as far as the edge of the large blast crater outside the school’s gates, assessing the situation. The Brick: Roche de Boule, was approaching the vehicles, he was trying to get to Outlook, but as he neared the downed youth a voice called out: “Stay away from the boy! We claim him for the bounty on his head.”

The headmistress stood with her hands held in fists and pressed firmly upon her hips, although her skirt was torn and her blouse was littered with branches and twigs, she held the look of unrestrained anger over what had transpired, she was fit to be tied, and the bozo’s responsible just revealed themselves.

“Whateley Academy is neutral territory, you can’t arrest anyone here,” she shouted in reply to give warning that there was going to be hell to pay.

The voice came from behind one of the overturned vans, “I’m not arresting him sweetheart, I'm collecting a bounty - there’s a difference. Besides, he wasn’t in Whateley.” Answered a large man who rounding the last of the vans, and approached between the vehicles. He was wearing black tactical armour with a white cross painted across the chest, overtop of which lay a big gaudy gold cross hanging from a chain around his neck. The armour had been modified since his well defined muscular arms were bare aside from forearm bracers and a mini crossbow affixed to the left bracer.

Over the big man’s right shoulder rested a strung long bow, and while his left arm sported a crossbow his right arm had crossbow bolts stashed into sleeves inset into the bracer, more crossbow bolts adorned his belt and more filled a quiver attached to his right thigh. Long arrows filled the two quivers strapped to his back, the feathered ends showing overtop his muscular shoulders.

As the big man passed by the unmarked police car, he flipped the single car which had remained upright onto its roof, it was as if it weighed nothing at all to the man. All the overturned vehicles held the officers inside trapped, if they couldn’t open the doors pointing to the sky - bent metal was making it nearly impossible for them to escape and render assistance, if they had retained consciousness.

Upon both overturned van’s sides - now roofs, jumped large cats. On the lead van came a tiger, upon the second van was a lion. As if on cue the lion roared, a verbal warning to those inside not to attempt interfering.

Following a short distance behind the big guy were two other assailants, each carrying large calibre guns with nightmarish proportions, each man was loaded down with canisters attached to the doubled bandoliers slung over each shoulder. The two looked alike, both dressed in similar black body armour - one was slightly taller, he wore a red bandana. These men also sported white crosses, but these were painted on the plates covering their shoulders. None had bothered to hide their faces.

Arthur panned the last working security camera to capture images of the attackers. The guardhouse windows had all shattered and inside the building was pure chaos, but Arthur worked with what was available and supplied to Kane Hall all he could. It was one of the reasons why at 70 years old Arthur still worked at Whateley, he could adapt when a plan fell apart.

Sam Everhart texted a response: Orion - calls himself ‘The Mighty Hunter’, Exemplar 6, affiliated with a group called The Right Hand of God. The Harper brothers: Dwayne and Stefan, Dwayne is a Devisor, Stefan’s a Gadgeteer, debated ratings, also associated with The Right Hand of God. Animals suggest presence of The Ring Master, an Empath who controls animals, had worked on the circus circuit but now another Right Hand of God’er.

Still another arrived behind the Harpers and moved back to the last car in the row, at first he came as a solitary man dressed in bright red underneath grey plate armour. He carried a short sword fastened at his hip, but in his hands he held a large rectangular shield emblazoned with a white cross, he also held a long spear. Overall he looked like a Roman soldier but with modern protective coverings.

When Sam saw him on the camera feed she provided details: “Cohort, he’s a multiplier, no established rating, he can make an army of himself.”

~o~O~o~

Elizabeth watched as the Roman soldier broke himself up into an ever increasing number until they stood as a full detachment, lined up into a wall of men positioned behind those large shields, each shield bore an ornate cross. The number grew until Liz lost count since the total number was obscured when a tortoise formation was made.

Liz ground out a question she couldn’t reconcile, “The Order of the White Cross aren’t Bounty Hunters, or known to be hired out as Mercenaries. Have you resorted to kidnapping and murder now?”

“Our superiors sent us out carte blanche to bring that boy in, they even said we could keep the bounty if successful. We intend to be successful! Twenty million can go a long way.”

Mrs. Carson was provided enough ammo to work with, despite her misgivings: “Outlook is a student here, he’s been off campus on a special study assignment. He is under this school’s protection.”

“If you don’t interfere, we’re not above giving you a cut. He’s a thorn in your side, we can make that disappear.” Offered the big man.

“I cannot allow Whateley Academy’s reputation to be tarnished, above all else we provide a place of security for our students. If I let you take him, no student will ever feel safe here again, and no parent will send their child to Whateley.”

“And here we hoped you’d be reasonable, considering that this kids suing your school.”

“It doesn’t matter, We protect those entrusted to us, with our lives if we must.”

“Have it your way sister. But that kid is coming with us regardless. You can’t say we didn’t offer to share the prize and avoid unpleasantries.”

Mrs. Carson leapt over the gaping hole the explosion had made in the schools access road, landing with outstretched arms. She’d positioned herself between Orion and Outlook, the boy wasn’t moving, his body half lay against the van and half on the ground. It wasn’t much but Cameron made some gurgling sounds barely heard during the heated argument over him.

Orion swung, his fist deflected by a long practiced move on Elizabeth’s part, she followed through with a fist to the man’s solar plexus, he didn’t even flinch. A flurry of strikes commenced, neither gained an immediate advantage as blows got fended as they sought to size the other up until an opening manifested.

Lady Astarte had years of experience in slugging it out, her training with Champion coming back like it was yesterday - not a lifetime ago. The sparring match yielded little ground, both of them landing some hits but they were too equally matched in raw power to call a winner. Elizabeth recognized a serious opponent when put against one.

They both withdrew back a few steps with Mrs. Carson now standing directly above Cameron, distanced attacks were next on the docket.

In a blur of movement Orion withdrew a steel bolt from the quiver on his hip and loaded it into his arm mounted crossbow, pointing the razor sharp tip at the headmistress.

“Be sure about your choices,” cautioned Lady Astarte.

Orion fired his crossbow, the short arrow streaked at the headmistress who barely sidestepped the projectile in time, as it sailed past her lodging into a vehicle further down the line. Orion had already reloaded by the time Mrs. Carson returned her gaze upon the Exemplar.

Elizabeth had barely straightened herself when the second bolt lodged into her left shoulder, striking and imbedding into bone.

~o~O~o~

Marcus had been the van’s front seat passenger when it arrived at Whateley, and he understood the reasoning behind why the three police officers in uniform would make more of an official impression. Although he thought he should be the one to break the ice with Whateley since he was an alumni.

Cameron had assured him of the peaceful intent in coming to pick up all the youth, not just his foster children but the other teens as well. Cameron was insistent that this was not to be confrontational, rather Cameron was foremost concerned about their wellbeing, and wanted to ensure they returned home safely.

Things rarely go according to plan, why was that statement becoming a truth instead of just a cautionary idea. Life it seems rarely adheres to a plan, that, or someone else has a different outcome in mind

One thing Marcus had learned early on, be adaptable, something Whateley had tried to stress to its students even back when Marcus attended. It meant taking a situation that’s gone to pot and coping with it. It’s a skill that had served him and Grace well over the years, after years of being chased by the MCO.

And talk about a plan falling apart, the bomb had been so sudden. The Were’s had barely enough time to shout out: “GET DOWN” before the blast rocked the van, flipping it over onto its side. Marcus had his seatbelt on which decreases his injuries, but still, his shoulder had hit the door frame hard and his head was fuzzy. From how little he could move his right arm, and how much it hurt, he wasn’t going to be of much help.

Marcus eyed up the bear that had sat down between the two vans, he could see the tiger on top of the van ahead through the shattered windshield. Fortunately all the windows on the up side of the van stayed in place although broken into tiny fragments. At first the animals made circuits above them, and the bear plodded around the vehicles it guarded, they all snarled and paced, making a show to frighten any inside the vehicles to not interfere.

Inside the van with Marcus the Were’s began checking everyones condition. Lynn’s brother Allan, Ella and her father Ulrich, and the new boy Phil they’d picked up. Marcus was in amazement at how tough Were’s where, none of them had any injuries to speak of from the explosion and vans rollover, nor had any of them been shaken by the appearance of the animals outside.

It surprised Marcus when Ella whispered into his ear, he hadn’t heard her move.
“Marcus, when I give the word, I want you to kick out the windshield.”

He nodded his head in understanding and grimacing at the pain from moving himself around, positioning himself in the seat so his long legs were ready.

“Now!”

Marcus reared back and kicked the glass as hard as he could, the broken windshield buckled and the top most side flopped down creating an opening. Out through the open window shot a mass of fur like a cannonball, the Were unfurled and landed on the face of the black bear, digging in sharp claws and holding the bears mouth closed.

As that scene was unfolding, two lightning quick red foxes bounded out the windshield, jumping in tandem towards the tiger on top of the other van. The foxes took advantage of the surprise attack as one began biting on a rear leg while the other one latching onto the tigers back. The tiger began making wild twists trying to extricate the foxes from any holds they’d secured. In its frenzy the tiger rolled off the van taking with it the foxes.

Marcus stayed still in the front seat, looking over the chair at the scene above, the lion and a black panther were engaged in a snarling match atop the van. The lion would briefly raise a paw to strike but the panther would evade each swipe while landing a devastating counter with equally long and deadly claws. The posturing ended with a head on confrontation as the two stood upon hind legs and slammed into each other, a display of raw power as muscle fought against muscle, in size the lion outweighed the panther.

The large cat wrestling match had the two engage in a dance for mastery, first the panther then a lions foot stepped onto a fractured glass window at which it broke away and left the animals unable to remain standing as both had legs dropped out from underneath them. It resulted in them both losing balance and falling off the van, landing in a snarling writhing heap of fur, legs, claws and snapping teeth in the long grass on the far side of Whateley’s driveway, out of Marcus’s view.

From his vantage point Marcus watched another scene unfold, the tiger was engaged in a match of wits and wiles with two foxes, amidst a frenzy of snarling and yipping. The foxes double teamed the tiger, so as it focused upon one fox the other would attack by biting and scratching the large cat in sensitive areas.

At one point the tiger pinned a fox under a paw, only to have its face assaulted by the other fox, necessitating the tiger to free up its committed paw to knock the fox away thereby releasing the distressed fox. The interplay forced the tiger to back itself up against the van to leave less exposed to the dual fox assault, it didn’t work out well. The foxes now had a means for an aerial attack and took advantage of repeatedly lunging at the tiger from all angles, getting in a fresh bite while avoiding the cats swipe, to then find a new opening to assail the now hapless opponent.

The bear was in even worse shape with a badger firmly attached to its muzzle and using sharp claws to shred the bears face raw, leaving it bleed profusely since the badgers claws were capable of digging through rock. The bear was frantic as it tried to pry the enraged critter off its head. Each swipe made with its powerful front paws only had the badger entrench its claws deeper into sensitive flesh. The bear began smashing its head into anything nearby, including the broken windshield Marcus was hidden behind offering him little protection.

The badger let go of its purchase on the bears face, the bear faltered in its movements as it reeled trying to recoup, but fell to the ground due to its unsteady legs. The badger sprung into action attacking the bears soft fur under its head and above its front legs.

The bear couldn’t extricate the badger since his paws couldn’t reach there. The badger tore into the thick fur to expose the bears neck, and it began biting at the very vulnerable spot. The bear dropped onto its stomach trying to crush the badger underneath, but it just gave the badger better purchase letting it hold on for the long haul.

The tiger was bleeding from multiple cuts and gouges, it had gone from trying to dominate as is often seen in top predators, to a mewling mess just trying to protect itself from further damage. The foxes had made it submit and now held it at bay as it cowered up against the other van.

~o~O~o~

Lynn and her teammates had taken off running after hearing the loud explosion while gathering outside their billet, leaving Mrs. Claire far behind at the parking lot in front of the guest cottage, along with the paltry amount of luggage they’d amassed in the short time they’d been at Whateley.

Charlotte had taken to the air and had a big lead on them, Lynn shifted to her panther form and in just a few strides narrowed the distance between her and Charlotte. R.E.D had kept pace with Lynn, an advantage of being an Exemplar and having long legs. Tim was long gone, he’d gotten boosted by Charlotte and zipped off without any discussion.

Lynn arrived at what was left of the school’s gates, shifting back to human form. R.E.D came to a halt beside her while Charlotte floated a few feet overhead. An older man inside the guardhouse called to them, warning them that students needed to stay back.

Flambé took off her heavy gloves throwing them aside and yanked the dishevelled gates from off their posts, tossing the useless hunks of metal down to the ground, then she brushed her hands satisfied with the results. Arthur went back inside the guardhouse, he’d done as he’d needed, and was required to do. From his estimation Mrs. Carson could use the support.

~o~O~o~

Marcus stood up inside the van cringing with pain from jostling his shoulder, but his curiosity won out, so he carefully looked outside throughout the drivers side window, keeping his right arm pressed against his body. A short distance away were some men who looked like Roman legionnaires, they stood locked into an aggressive posture with spears pointing forward - sticking out ahead of interlocked shields awaiting trouble.

True to historical form, they each had a short sword fastened to one hip, one hand holding the spear while the other arm hoisted the large rectangular shield. The clothes held to how ancient portrayals described them; bright red cloth, but instead of the old heavy polished plate metal armour, these soldiers had coverings made of grey composite materials, more akin to modern police ballistic protection, and oddly enough looking like hockey equipment.

Although the soldiers wore helmets with some face protection, Marcus was certain that each of them looked identical. It was disorienting to hear them speak, since they each sounded the same. Marcus surmised it was a Multiplier who had separated to create an army, it was anyones guess who was in charge.

Marcus turned to see how the Were’s faired, only to watch as the lion rushed at the black panther landing a devastating blow sending the smaller cat rolling in the dirt. The lion roared and pounced upon the downed panther, bringing slash after slash upon its foe. The panther managed to slip under the lion and rake its underside with a long painful swipe making the lion jump back. The lion was so much larger than the panther, but the panther was staying the course, each had inflicted heavy damage, but the panther was outmatched.

The lion circled his prey, his hind leg twitching from a well placed bite, the panther was winded and drew in ragged breaths, the lion wasn’t foolish enough to let his enemy rest, he was looking for the most vulnerable place to attack as he rounded the panther again, then jumped at the black panther’s rear, a crunch was heard as bones snapped. The lion stood overtop the spent panther, preparing to sink its teeth into the black cats throat when a second panther rammed into its side, a hit that sent both of the apex predators tumbling.

The lion shook off the sudden strike, stumbling briefly before lowering its head and growling to begin anew a fight of dominance with its new black foe. It hunched up to let fly a roar to assert its displeasure at the interference and frighten off the interfering newcomer.

The second black panther aligned itself to face the lion head-on, not deterred by the show of strength presented by the larger almost golden coloured feline. The lion paced closer, stalking the panther who had stepped in to insert itself between the lion and the downed panther.

Marcus could almost see the shock in the lions eyes when the second black panther grew to four times its previous size, incisor fangs distending down to a fearful ten inch length, and claws extending to six inch long blades that dug into the earth underfoot.

The lion turned tail to run, but before it could escape the sabre-tooth Were-panther gave the lion’s hind quarters a swat that sent it spinning, causing it to roll several times before it righted itself and took off as fast as its legs could carry it, with a tail firmly tucked underneath.

The Were-panther turned her attention to the bear, still struggling to find a means to get rid of the badger latched onto its neck, it stumbled about in an effort to free itself of the unrelenting menace. The panther strode up behind the occupied bear and let fly a deep roar that shook the bear to its core.

The bear was demoralized to such an extent that it lost bowel control, leaving a brown streak behind it as it fled into the woods.

The tiger too, hearing the monstrous roar, lay down in surrender, but when the foxes presented the defeated cat an opening it hightailed it in attempt to flee. As it ran away it was harassed by the foxes who nipped at its tail, hastening its retreat.

A sharp whistle blast drew the Were's attention, two dogs burst from the trees; a doberman and a pittbull raced towards the Were, each trying to out pace the other, barking like crazy as they approached.

The massive sabre-tooth panther turned to snarl at the oncoming dogs. The doberman upon seeing its target dropped its backside into the grass to improve braking, resulting in some serious bum rash. The doberman turned tail and yipped as it returned back to the trees. The pittbull had no qualms about attacking a larger enemy, one its master had sic’d him upon.

A single well placed swat from a huge panther paw sent the dog smashing into the side of a vehicle, it dented the metal panel, leaving the dog stunned and dazed, and in Lynn’s estimation stupider then before.

A man wearing a circus ringmasters costume exited the trees coming into view, he stood aghast at what had transpired, shouting: “My babies, what did you do to my babies.”

It was the foxes who gave chase, running the man up a nearby tree.

~o~O~o~

Roche opened his eyes, it surprised him how much that minor a movement hurt, he was an Exemplar / Brick, by rights he shouldn’t have been hurt at all while within his protective brick field, sure he didn’t have it at its peak output but it was up.

He raised himself from off the ground onto his knees, he had a runny nose and wiped it with his sleeve, as he spotted the streak of blood on his jacket it heightened his awareness, he spat out the wad of phlegm in his mouth, it too was mostly blood. Whatever the blast had been, it wasn’t standard issue ordinance, if it could get through to him - it was devisor grade.

Still woozy from having gotten tossed around, the last thing Al remembered was landing on his head, he had been thrown beyond the large blast crater - a hole easily three feet deep and at least a dozen feet across. Whatever explosive was used, it packed a punch. That bit of information set the man to worry: ‘what about Ken and the kid?’.

Roche looked around trying to find his teammates, the hot looking young blonde security lady was tending to Ken at the fence, good! One less thing to worry about. So where was Cameron? Al couldn’t see him anywhere over by the schools entrance, he needed to stand to be able to see better, it took effort but he got to his feet.

Al Koenig took in his surroundings, the mayhem rendered upon the vehicles was telling, the blasts radius had flipped most of them over. In a heap laying against the underside of one of the vans was Outlook, it didn’t make sense, the kid had been standing beside him near the gate, he should have been thrown toward the school like Ken, not backwards.

Al moved slightly with a ‘huff’, he stretched his back resulting in bones clicking into place and he sighed in relief. Roche stumbled toward the fallen boy who lay face first against the van, as he got to within a few steps from the van he noticed it had buckled where the boy hit it. However Al froze in his tracks when he heard a shout:

“Stay away from the boy! We claim his body for the bounty on his head.”

Mrs. Carson took up the mantle of command, just as well thought Roche, let her handle the situation, the Brick’s sole concern was Cameron. As the two began a posturing dispute, Al made very slow movements to get closer to his fallen teammate.

Cameron made small nearly inaudible sounds, he was alive! Al struggled to not rush over to him. But, as a precaution, given the escalating tone of the conversation happening close by between Mrs. Carson and the brute, Roche amped up his Brick field.

Next thing Roche knew, arrows started flying by him. The Exemplar dove landing atop Cameron, the man used his body to protect the boy, ensuring his brick field surrounded the both of them. Al could tell many objects hit his field, not from them making contact against him but from the sound they made when they fell to the ground.

Al tried not to crush the boy, it was awkward in such close quarters but he managed to roll Cameron over to get a look at his face. The boy was a mess from several lacerations which had bloodied him, his glasses were smashed and added to the cuts he bore.

“Cameron, come on boy, stay with me now.” Softly spoke Roche into Outlook’s closest ear, fluid dribbled out from it. Al put the back of his hand over Cameron’s mouth and nose, he felt air movement. Al positioned Cameron onto his side into the recovery position to aid his respiration.

Cameron coughed, followed by some ragged breathes, he wasn’t getting enough air. Roche opened the boy’s mouth, and using a finger cleaned out broken teeth and a large blood clot. Cameron started to breath easier but it was shallow and laboured.

Roche lost track of all else, he didn’t pay attention to what was happening around him - it wasn’t as important as what he was doing, ensuring Cameron lived. Fortunately he could center his focus exclusively upon Cameron, with both of them being cocooned within a Brick field. As long as another bomb like the last one wasn’t fired at them.

The Were where busy on the far side of the vehicles - making one heck of a ruckus. He’d noticed two well armed men a few steps behind the big guy, they each had what looked like modified shotguns, they’d been the ones to fire that bomb.

What baffled Al was the Roman soldiers, they had remained back some, near the last car in the convoy. They had formed ranks and stood side by side linking shields making a wall.

~o~O~o~

Mrs. Carson stared in shock at the short arrow protruding from her shoulder, it took a couple heartbeats before the pain hit, she fought to quell the scream her body sought to release.

The crossbow bolt sticking into her shoulder vibrated ever so slightly, it was imbedded deeply but regardless Liz reached for its hilt and pulled it out, the tearing flesh had her bite her lip for the added agony it caused.

Orion laughed, the bastard. As Elizabeth had been distracted, Orion had fired several bolts at Cameron. A quick glance behind let her know the boy was being protected by the RCMP Brick.

Lady Astarte gathered an amount of essence and cast a spell of incapacitation, it was akin in effect to a taser, but the light show accompanying it was something to see, it lit up a skeleton like a candle inside a paper lantern and made the recipient shudder violently before they passed out.

Over the years it had proven to be an effective weapon in the mages arsenal, unfortunately Orion sidestepped the spell so it headed off past the big guy, striking a tree making an explosion resulting in the tree falling onto the roadway.

“Come come, Miss Miracle, you’ll have to do better than that,” ridiculed the high rated Exemplar. “If that’s the sort of thing you teach your students here, they should get their money back.”

He let fly another bolt, this one Elizabeth caught and as quick as she could she threw it back at the laughing man, he merely batted it away before he let loose another shot. This time it slipped through and struck her in the abdomen, it hit something serious since she had to gasp at the wave of nausea it inflicted. Blood spilled out of the wound as she pushed her hand against her stomach to staunch the flow.

The Headmistress stood her ground, not willing to give an inch in her determination. She worked a nasty little spell that would encase the recipient within a whirlwind, it tended to pull the air out of a persons lungs and could in some cases rend limbs. That fact didn’t deter the mage at this point.

This one hit its mark and a tight wind spun Orion lifting him into the air, rotating him violently until he was ejected out of the mini tornado and left sprawled on the ground. He lifted himself up and began to laugh even harder, saying: “That was fun, do it again!”

Elizabeth in her current condition couldn’t go head to head against the Exemplar, on a better day certainly, but her injuries now made for too many weaknesses he could exploit, exactly the reason he had done what he did by firing distracting arrows.

Her best option was greater distance, but that also left her open to ranged attacks. Orion knew it too, and that’s why he was now preparing a full length arrow in his long bow. As Orion was nocking the arrow, the two Harper brothers took up positions beside him.

From behind Elizabeth a streak of red lightning snapped past her, it’s passing made the hair on her head tingle from the discharge of high energy. The fractured lightning struck Orion’s bow setting it aflame in a sudden burst of fire.

Orion cursed at the situation since one of the lightning arcs had also hit his bicep and scorched his flesh. The exemplar threw his bow away and patted his arm which smoked but wasn’t on fire. He then proceeded to prepare another shot with his crossbow saying:

“Dumb move girly, You should have stayed away.”

“What, and miss all the fun!” Taunted Flambé.

“You want to play? Happy to oblige.” Sneered Orion as he pointed his crossbow at her and fired.

A wind brushed passed the Headmistress, her hair flew into her eyes and a minor vacuum stole her breath. She watched as Orion’s shiny crossbow bolt stopped mid-flight and disappeared from her sight. It reappeared jabbed into Orions right hand, a blur surrounded the man as it looked as if he was getting slapped repeatedly. The Exemplar bellowed when he had two of his own crossbow bolts jabbed into each foot, penetrating all the way through his sandals into the ground underfoot.

“Promises, promises,” chided Flambé. “All I ever hear are empty promises.” The Energizer raised her right arm, formed her hand into a circle so all her fingers and thumb pointing at Orion and a jolt of intense power leapt out. An eye searing flash of five streaks of red lightning, one a piece from each fingertip, danced and twisted around until striking Orion in the chest.

Orion shook where he stood with his feet grounding him through the impaling metal crossbow bolts, his body convulsing as he was electrocuted. His clothing smouldered and melted at spots before it burst into flames as the high voltage blast continued, the intersection of the white cross on Orion’s chest making a perfect target. It continued until his very skin was on fire.

Orion’s agonized yell gained a few octaves as the sustained lightning like discharge fried him to the core. The Harper brothers loaded canisters into their rifles and brought them to bear upon the interfering red headed girl, anything to stop her, anything to get twenty million bucks. The one gun, the one in Dwayne’s hands, exploded as it miss fired, a crossbow bolt had been wedged into the gun’s barrel preventing it from shooting the large cylindrical canister that looked like an oversized beer can on a stick.

The canister’s explosion released a noxious green gas cloud that redoubled in size every few seconds, the cloud quickly enveloped Dwayne Harper, he began coughing and wheezing. Overwhelmed by the concentrated gas before he could don the gas mask hung around his neck, the Devisor dropped to his knees then he passed out and fell over onto his side, a victim of his own cleverness.

Stefan had the benefit of a couple feet distance from the gas’s release, just enough time for him to get his gas mask in place before the green cloud moved in to encircle him. He stepped out of the obscuring cloud and discharged his gun trying to target the fast moving blur.

Stefan’s shot went wide, the canister lofted through the air purposelessly, nowhere close to his intended target. The canister let off a big flash followed by an explosion, nothing close in comparison to the impact to the very first canister they’d lobed. He wasn’t foolish enough to be near one of those going off.

Stefan decided to aim for an easier target; the red head, he loaded up an acid canister, a nasty piece of work he and his brother had concocted in their lab. When testing them the acid had eaten through three inches of plate steel. ‘The girl wanted to play? Let’s see how much fun she’ll have with this’. Stefan fired his gun.

R.E.D. was a little behind and just to the side of Mrs. Carson. The gun was most certainly pointed at her, unlike a bullet when fired, the canister traveled at a discernible speed, perhaps faster that a thrown ball but slow enough to trace its trajectory. The Energizer girl dove out of the way when a voice in her head warned her of the incoming danger.

As the canister sailed past Mrs. Carson she swatted at it, her swinging arm smacking it downward and away. The canister’s housing burst when contacted, the acid spraying outward. The majority of the potent chemicals spread dispersed aimlessly, hitting the ground, the portion of the acid that landed upon the headmistress immediately began to burn.

The devisor enhanced acid’s chemical reaction was akin to a weapon of mass destruction, it was merciless and devastating. Even if it had just been a drop or two, the acid devoured anything it contacted. Mrs. Carson had it land on her right arm, upon her face, and down her right leg. It chewed up cloth, skin, and hair. Elizabeth’s scream only ended when consciousness left her.

Swift in a flurry grabbed at every pin, lever and button on the canisters strapped to Stefan Harpers body. Tim moved away from the man as he began to sense the impending danger he was in, as the gadgets began making popping and hissing noises. Stefan began to discard the bandoliers off his shoulders and tossed them as far as he could, then he unclipped all the tricks secured to his belt and threw them away as well.

The lightning blast that hit his stomach sent his teeth chattering as he spasmed violently. When his helmet flew off his head, his hair burst into flames - a lesson for those who use oil based hair care products. He screamed as he patted his head with his gloved hands, and he made a run for it. A badger made an impressive intercept knocking him down, to then bite down on his nose. Stefan squealed like a pig as he rolled around on the gravel road.

R.E.D approached Mrs. Carson as she lay on the ground, half her body smoked from the still burning acid. R.E.D hoped the woman was unconscious, no one should have to suffer that much pain.

Flambé called aloud: “Swift!” And a second time, louder “SWIFT!”

Tim came to a standstill beside her, saying: “Did you see that?” He was bleeding from some long cuts on his torso, but he hadn’t complained about them even though the blood was soaking his clothes.

R.E.D. needed him to focus, she needed his help, Mrs. Carson needed his help.

“Tim, find water. Douse Mrs. Carson with it to neutralize the acid. Get her to Doyle.

Offended at being ordered around, he protested “Why don’t you do it?”

“Because I can’t touch her, I’d just make it worse.” Flambé explained almost in tears, wriggling the fingers of her glowing red hands as an extreme amount of heat poured off them.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” Acquiesced Swift, one second he was there, then not, then he was back again. He held bottles of water in his arms, as many as he could carry. Opening them he poured them out onto the schools headmistress until she was soaked.

Meanwhile, Flambé had returned to the fight, a whole squadron of roman soldiers bore down on her. She let fly a blistering display of lightning strikes, halting the progress of the soldiers holding up large rectangular shields. The lightning struck the shields, the energy output crackling loudly, as shields in the row began to melt from the heat generated, a soldier would wink out of existence once the damage was too great, only to be replaced by another soldier filling the vacant spot.

The line of soldiers were almost completely harmonized in their movements, they marched shoulder to shoulder in their forward progression, but had been stymied under Charlotte’s unorthodox attacks. Now R.E.D. was able to assist the airborne girl by hurling twisted lighting at them.

Flambé shouted to Tim: “Leave, now! We’ve got this covered.”

The teenage boy struggled to lift the injured heroine, he couldn’t run carrying her, but managed to get her across no man’s land and past the school’s destroyed gates.

Rachel stayed out of the fray, she tried to assist where she could by mentally alerting those in harms way of potential danger, but she was no fighter, she felt useless.

Tim was having a hard time holding onto Mrs. Carson, Rachel offered to help and took half of the woman’s weight by putting Mrs. Carsons other arm over her shoulder so they could carry the headmistress between them. The lady moaned often as her head lolled about, the twins took it as a good sign at which they picked up the pace.

Rachel and Tim had gotten a distance into the school proper when a medi-cart met them and Mrs. Carson was transferred to a stretcher, a medic began checking her over, the cart’s driver looked at Tim, who’s blood soaked clothes had the woman direct him onto the cart as well.

Rachel stood in a quandary, alone now on the gravel driveway, she was torn, follow Tim or go back and look after Charlotte, and R.E.D., and … Her question of what to do was answered, Rachel ran back to the school’s entrance.

With caution Rachel peeked around Whateley Academy’s tall stone fence, to size up what had happened during the brief time she was away. Hoping that her younger sister was okay.

~o~O~o~

Swift, Aware and Flambé had been the first to arrive at the school’s entrance, Lynn’s briefing had been very brief, Alan her brother needed help and she darted to his side barely giving any details to the rest of them.

Swift for his part, had taken it upon himself to lend aid speeding off without much of a plan, leaving Rachel to caution her little sister about this dangerous group hellbent on capturing Cameron, obviously having no regard for anyone who got in the way. Being in the way was exactly where the five friends had decided they needed to be.

Rachel knew she wasn’t much use in hand to hand combat, something she had resolved to correct after observing the self defence classes at Whateley. Perspicuous was best suited to being a behind the scene player - for now, so she would guide the others telepathically and run interference where she could.

Charlotte had wanted to jump in and bust some heads, okay - she had the strength to do that sort of thing, but it was the wrong attitude, all heart and no head lead to disastrous results. It was a good tradeoff when Flambé suggested they confront the Romans together.

Excelle agreed to lift the Energizer girl who used her jacket as a sling to prevent burns, she was carried over the destroyed gates and crater that a bomb had made, dropped her behind the headmistress who was engaging a huge man in a fight. Flambé was close to Roche who was crouched over Cameron, while Charlotte headed off into the woods. Excelle had said she wanted a weapon.

Flambé wasted no time in blasting the man Mrs. Carson was fighting, she looked to need the help, wouldn’t you know it, two more goons stepped up supporting Mr. Big. Tim made strafing passes on them, which made frying them so much easier.

Flambé laughed aloud when she saw Charlotte flying back, she carried a tree, not a stick or a branch, an entire tree. It looked like she’d pulled it right out of the ground since dirt was still falling from the roots.

~o~O~o~

Once Charlotte was overtop the soldiers who held a tight formation she proceeded to use her tree like a club. Whenever a soldier would raise his head above the shields that they used to make a defensive roof, Charlotte would smack at em like it was game of ‘Whack-a-mole’.

The soldiers huddled even closer for protection, and none would expose themselves anymore, so Excelle changed her tactic. The flight gifted Exemplar started to use her tree as a bludgeon. Charlotte would position herself over a shield, drive the tree straight down like you’d stamp on a bug, and squash the solider - or soldiers underneath.

The soldiers tried to fend her off by pointing their spears up at her, but Excelle was above reach of the spear tips even when extended up as high as a man could reach. A couple of the soldiers attempted throwing those same spears, but only being manifestations once the spear left contact with the reproduction it dissipated to nothingness.

Charlotte began to giggle loudly, she’d determined that once these men had been smacked around enough they popped, like those sheets of packing bubbles when you squeeze them, but the guy would dissipate too - so they where like soap bubbles. Excelle began to plunge her impromptu woodland bludgeon into the huddled soldiers mass as she hummed Hanson’s song ‘MMMbop’, ensuring she thrust down at every bop part of the song.

Even though Charlotte had only really been repeating the MMMbop songs verse over and over, she was certain she’d clobbered a hundred of em by now. They just kept coming! This was becoming tedious.

Excelle was glad when Flambé was able to lend a hand, Flambé would roast em, and she’d toast em, lining them up as she swung her stick like a golf club. It was fun to see them pop-off in mid air, and you got more of them with a swing than just smooshing em one at a time.

~o~O~o~

As Flambé continued her attack, the spears that stuck out through the shields like porcupine quills ignited and burned, the wood shafts flared and then burned like matchsticks. Eventually the spears would be discarded by the Legionnaires if the fire moved behind the protective shields.

Soon the ends of short swords poked through the shield barrier, as the wall of soldiers made slow - calculated steps forward.

Flambé didn’t relent with the heat but took it up a couple notches, soon it was swords that began to melt, the heat running up the handles making them so hot the soldiers needed to drop the swords, when it was too much heat to keep holding onto them.

It wasn’t long before the shields also began to melt, the soldiers rotated which ones faced the girl in an attempt to stop the degradation of the old tried and true military unit’s tactics.

~o~O~o~

Marcus shouted to Excelle, he was inside one of the vehicles, so she flew closer to speak with him, holding her tree under her arm. A soldier had grabbed onto the tree and had wrapped himself around it. She shook him loose, he dropping to the ground flailing about like he was trying to swim, he didn’t make it.

“Hi” greeted Charlotte to her foster father.

“Having fun?” Asked Marcus looking up at her from inside the van.

“Oh sure, these guys are great!” Commented the flying girl, using her thumb to point over her shoulder at the legion of men Flambé was still cooking.

“They’re multipliers. They’ll keep coming unless you find the original.” He explained.

“Who’s the original?”

“That’s the tricky part, he makes identical copies of himself, so you can’t tell them apart.”

“Figures. Do I keep hitting them until I find the guy?”

“How’s that been working for you so far?”

“Kay I suppose. Hold on, Rachel says she’ll find him and point him out to me.”

Rachel asked her friends to get ready, she was going to try and upset the situation with a little mental persuasion. The telepath sent out a searing mental barrage, it would feel like a full bore migraine headache to the unfortunate receiver.

It was an unexpected result that speaks to a multipliers ability, for them to act together they have a link to the original - following his lead. The converse is, when they all felt the migraine it carried back along those linking lines from the copies, magnifying it.

When a solitary man near the back of the Legion was the first to grab his head, followed by an agonizing scream which peeled out from the group of men, to soon be followed suit by all the soldiers, all of them dropped everything else and grabbing their heads.

R.E.D. let ripe a long stream of lightning that expanded outward jumping from one soldier to the next, leapfrogging through the entire assembly. The sound was like a popcorn maker on overload, as a third of the mock army disappeared.

Charlotte swept in from above and clocked the first man hard. The Roman soldiers dissipated in a wave from that man outward, leaving just the single man remaining, laid out flat on the ground.

Doyle Medical Centre

Cameron heaved a big sigh of relief, sure he hurt, and it could have gone much worse. The doctor said he had a broken nose, broken cheekbone, and a cracked jaw, about what you’d expect for having crashed face first into a vehicle.

The missing teeth, the swollen lips and black eyes added to Cameron’s overall soreness. Being wheeled into a private recovery room would now grant Cameron time to effect some self healing, he’d been in such a daze he didn’t even recall arriving at Doyle.

Healing himself had become second nature, so Cameron let his thoughts wander. He really needed to thank his friends for having saved his life, the frequency and severity of the threats to himself had become intolerable. If it hadn’t been for his friends … that it had come to needing others help to ensure his safety worried him.

Anyone around him was in danger, he was a danger to those nearest to him. How long before his friends got threatened again as a means to get to him? Why did having friends become a weakness that could be exploited? Did it mean Cameron would have to walk away from everyone he cared about - to keep them safe?

Maybe the pain was to blame, in part anyways, because he was crying. Tears tracked down his tender face which he had to be careful about when wiping them away. It hadn’t taken all that much time or effort to fix all the damage, still, a couple days rest would do wonders.

Cameron lay back, letting the soft pillows comfort his worried mind and take away the burden of carrying a way to heavy head, his mind was on the verge of sleep when his hospital room’s door opened. Lynn peeked in, smiled at him and slipped into the room letting the door close quietly behind her.

Lynn dragged the room’s chair over near to the bed, and she sat in the chair after nestling her legs underneath herself.

“So,” she began. “The gang wants to know how come you got blasted, and thrown into a vehicle? Cause, you can like, protect yourself and all. It doesn’t make sense.”

“The gang? You guys have made a gang?”

“Jealous?”

“No … well maybe. Wha’dya you call yourselves?”

“We haven’t settled on a name, thought about the ‘Snack Pack’ cause we’ve got so many hungry stomaches between us. Just didn’t feel right till we could all vote on it.”

"Hmm, it’s got a ring to it. Who eats the most?”

”R.E.D. is a bottomless pit, Charlotte never seems satisfied either.”

“And?”

“I have a very high metabolism, I need to eat healthy meals often.”

“How often?”

“Four a day, six if I shift a lot.”

“I’d say you shouldn’t draw attention to a potential weakness, and consider a name that inspires instead.”

“Such as?”

“I dun know, how’s about Aurora Borealis?”

“Not a bad suggestion, but Northern Lights doesn’t sound as pretentious. Now, back to my question, you can’t evade me that easily.”

“I had to make a choice.”

“Go on.”

“I could have sucked Whateley’s shields dry when I was tossed into them, but Mrs. Carson had been rather peeved at me from before, when I’d left them defenceless. So when the two dissimilar forces reacted negatively, it resulted in my getting repelled.”

“You chose to get repelled?”

“I decided to let Whateley keep themselves protected, since I didn’t know what the driving factor behind the attack was.”

“You took all the risk upon yourself?”

“When you put it like that …”

“How else am I supposed to put it. You always assume only you can face danger - all by yourself, you don’t share the load or let anyone else help you. You and me, if we’re going to be a couple, you have to learn to trust me - at least a little, to have your back.”

“I never wanted to burden anyone else.”

“That’s not what being a team is about.”

“You’re already part of a team.”

“Is that what you’re sour about? That your friends had the gaul to make a team without asking you? If you must know, we’re hoping you’ll step up and be our captain.”

“I’m happy you’ve come together, really. Gelled as friends and all. But?”

“But what?”

“Teams at Whateley are all about learning how to inflict the maximum amount of damage.”

Lynn sat quiet for a moment, staring at the boy with her penetrating green eyes before saying: “I’m sure there are some here who do that. But there’s others that just want to learn how to use their abilities effectively, to not hurt themselves or others. It takes practice to gain mastery over a mutation. Whateley is providing a safe place and knowledgeable instructors to help kids learn control.”

“R.E.D.” intoned Cameron.

“Yes R.E.D. Her hands get so hot anything she touches could ignite, she has to figure out how to live in a world that isn’t fireproof. Rhododendron has already learned a lot at Whateley.”

“She lets you call her that?”

“We share a room, she’s really clever and very sweet. She’s having a hard time dealing with her huge growth spurt, and having to wear gloves all the time adds to how clumsy she feels.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, Charlotte, for one.”

“Has she outgrown ‘My Little Pony’ yet?”

“No, but she can bench press a bus. It’s like she has two sides to her, one gentle while the other has an angry streak a mile wide. Rachel worries that she won’t find balance and - well, become like her Dad.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, nobody is free from carrying baggage around,” conceded Lynn. “Even me.”

“Care to share?”

“Seeing the future isn’t fun and games. People always ask me what tomorrow will bring? If I tell them, they’ll just keep coming back for more, until they won’t even think for themselves anymore. I’d become their security blanket, preventing them from making mistakes and living for themselves. I can’t do that - not if I want to stay sane.”

“Sanity is overrated,” humoured Cameron, earning him a smile - although small and against the girl’s better judgement.

“And then there’s you.” Lynn added, building her case.

“I know I’m not perfect.”

“But you try to be. And pardon my being blunt, but it’s killing you,” confided Lynn.

“Listen to her Cameron,” confirmed a sharp dressed man who mysteriously appeared at the closed door. “You cannot be more than who you are.”

“Who are you?” Asked a startled Lynn, her Were senses hadn’t alerted her to his arrival.

“Lynn, meet my mentor,” informed Cameron.

“Do you have a name?” Quizzed the uncertain girl.

“Certainly, but it is not shared. In the scheme of things I am not important,” was advised.

“Okay, what’s this scheme about?” Sought Lynn.

“You of all people should appreciate not receiving an answer to that question.”

“Oh! Sorry. Old habit I need to break,” admitted Lynn.

“Cameron, The young lady is correct, It is of no practical use and detrimental if others continue seeking your demise. You are henceforth permitted to defend yourself in whatever means you deem necessary, short of inflicting death - that is reserved for final judgement.”

“Thank you. I’d hoped I wouldn’t need to resort to harming people, but it seems that deterrents are all that some people understand.”

“It is sad that so many cannot learn without use of a rod to beat sense into them. Use this additional freedom with caution.”

“I will.”

“Now to the next bit of business. Cameron, you are to remain at Whateley. Your presence here has uncovered multitudes of affronts, more attention is warranted.”

“How? I’ve worn out my welcome here.”

“Figure something out. However, you should know. A bounty has been placed upon those who’ve sought your head, it should turn attention away from you - for a time.”

“Thanks, I guess,” responded Cameron, perplexed by why news always came in a mixture of good and bad.

“Make the best of the situation.” Advised the man as he waved farewell over his turned back as he walked into the closed door vanishing from sight.

“Well, that was interesting,” offered Lynn, a touch baffled at the revelation.

“Always is. Looks like I’ve got a few knots to try and unravel.”

“About that, I need to apologize.”

“Why?”

“I told you once that you weren’t the Golden Eyed Man. I lied.”

“What? Wait. Were can’t lie.”

“I’m a Precog, I see the future, all of it - the good and the bad. If I had to tell the truth to people all the time I’d die inside, that I have to see them getting hurt and their deaths doesn’t mean I want to tell them about it. So I lie, not often, but yes I can lie. It’s something to do with my families bloodline.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with so much suffering.”

“I thought you should know that you’re not the only one who carries a burden.”

"I appreciate knowing,” sounded out Cameron at Lynn’s opening up about herself, a truth that she hadn’t hinted at before.

“Also, I didn’t want you to feel trapped, that you had no choice over what was happening. That you were being forced to be with me.”

“As I see it, who better to be with? You’re a guy in a girl’s body, and I’m a girl trying to be a boy. All things considered, we’re a great match.”

“Just don’t change who you are and we’ll be fine,” conceded Lynn, without hinting if it was foreseen or just wishful thinking. “When you’re able, Allan could use your help.”

“What happened?”

“His spine is broken, he’s paralyzed from the hips down.”

“Will he heal?”

“Eventually - maybe. The nerve damage might not ever heal. Were’s can recover from most anything, but this could be a game changer for him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For putting him in a position where he sacrificed so much for my sake.”

“Don’t you dare belittle him by blaming yourself for what happened. Allan would do anything for you, he feels he owes you his life. In fact that’s how most of your friends feel about you.”

“Not helping.”

“It’s true. You might not realize it, while you’re busy pursuing all that’s evil lurking in the shadows. But you are a bright light in many peoples’ lives, maybe the only bit of sunshine for some.”

“Is it for you?”

“Yes. Of all the paths I’ve traced, yours is one of the very few that didn’t end in a black morass.”

“I’ll join you right away. I need to put some decent clothes on first.”

“Actually, Allan can wait awhile, he’s at least stable for now. You should take care of Ken first, he’s in critical care.”

“Who else?”

“Mrs. Carson’s in bad shape too. Oh, and the bozo’s who attacked you got roughed up some.”

“Could you find Dr. Ophelia Tenant while I get changed? I’ll need her help running interference with the hospital staff.”

“She’s Allan’s doctor, I’ll get her for you.”

“Thanks.”

~o~O~o~

“Cameron, should you be out of bed? Your chart lists you having some nasty injuries. Who attended to you? You don’t look hurt.”

“I took care of them myself.”

“Really, you better let me take a look at you,” requested Ophelia. “Just bloody amazing, not even a scratch. Alrighty, if you’re up to it, I’ve some patients who could use your assistance.”

“I had hoped you’d let me see Ken Tallman first, he’s a friend, perhaps my best friend.”

“His prognosis isn’t very good. We’ve done as much magical healing as we could for him, I’m completely tapped out. Doyle’s efforts have been divided between him and the headmistress. He’s got a long road to recovery, the skeletal damage alone is extensive, we helped with the internal injuries some, as much as we could.”

“Can you spare some time to take me to him?”

“I’m on dinner break, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Ken was in a drug induced sleep, the air tube running into his nose hissed away and the heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. His upper body was immobilized by a body cast that kept his shoulders stationary. His limbs were strung up in traction harnesses, both arms in casts and extended outwards at near right angles from his body.

Cameron sat on the side of the bed and began the process of rebuilding shattered bones, most of the man’s body had already been realigned, but the damage wrought had been severe. It was a most heartbreaking puzzle for Cameron to piece together, who despite the welling up of tears never took his eyes off his friend.

There was no visible ailment to the man when Cameron stood up. It was in a way a let down, no big flourish like a showman might conclude a performance with, but Cameron didn’t like making a display - as if helping people required fanfare.

Instead Cameron said: “I recommend leaving the casts in place for now, it will allow his muscles to rest and the swelling to go down. When he wakes up, please take X-rays to ensure his bones have set properly. Who’s next?”

Allan Franklin lay stretched out in bed, it seemed uncomfortable since it looked like he was on a torture rack. The weighted lines had been employed by the hospital to keep his lower limbs aligned and immobile. I took a long time for Cameron to reconnect all the damaged nerves, but Lynn kept her brother busy in conversation to allow Cameron to stay focused.

Ophelia Tenant took him into a room with a security guard posted outside, warning the boy that this was one of the men who’d orchestrated the attack. The room’s guard was leery about giving the boy access, vengeance can be an ugly thing, not something Whateley Academy openly endorses.

Orion lay restrained on the heavy duty bed, it too was affixed to the floor. When dealing with high level Exemplars very few facilities were equipped to handle them, Doyle was one of those few.

The large man was bandaged up like a mummy, the smell of burn ointment lingering in the air, along with the unmistakable stink of roast flesh. He had an arm in a cast - someone had been busy with plaster, his other arm and both legs had been handcuffed.

He saw the three enter his room and barked at them: “What do you want?”

“What I want isn’t important, what you need is more to the point.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“If that’s the case, then we’ll be on our way,” concluded Cameron, he wasn’t going to force the man to accept his help

“Outlook, the hippocratic oath demands we treat the ill to the best of one’s ability,” admonished Ophelia, the doctor was unwilling to walk away from a patient.

“I appreciate your position, but I am not a doctor. I’ve never sworn to provide health care.”

“But you’ve been helping others,” postulated the doctor.

“To those who are willing to accept it. It seems improper to render aid to someone who doesn’t wish it. Especially when that person has foregone concern over others wellbeing.”

“You can’t pick and chose who needs your help.”

“That is a commendable ideal doctor, one that I wish all men adhered too, how nice it would be to treat everyone as a brothers.”

“You don’t have it in your heart to forgive?”

“Forgiveness requires remorse, an indicator that acknowledges a wrong has been committed. This man would zealously redo his actions or worse - he’s learned nothing. He’s not worthy of redemption.”

“You can tell all that by looking at him?”

“If you doubt it, ask him,” suggested Cameron as he ensured the man looked him in the eyes, the uncovered golden glow adding light to the room’s otherwise subdued lighting.

“Why did you attack Whateley?” Asked the doctor.

“Our target was the boy, this school’s just a known haunt for him,” answered Orion.

“Why target him?”

“We were sanctioned by the Order of the White Cross and blessed by a priest, we’re carrying out God’s work.”

“I doubt that’ll sway a judge.”

“The task was worthy, and the money was good, that’s all I needed. Besides this will never go to trial.”

“Your so sure?”

“Absolutely, we act above the law - doing the Lord’s work, no court would dare hear our case. You should know better than to hold me prisoner, release me.”

“You’re only handcuffed as a precaution, you represent a danger to yourself. If you stress those injuries, no amount of healing or surgery will erase the scars.”

“All of you are guilty in front of the Lord and shall be held accountable.” He screamed as he flailed around wildly.

“‘Man’s anger does not bring about God’s righteousness.’ If this is God’s work as you say, then God must want your disfigurement as visible proof of his disgust. Tell your masters this: ‘Any who come after me from this point forward will forfeit a part of themselves,’” pronounced Cameron. “Show them those scars as proof if they doubt the truth of it.”

~o~O~o~

Ophelia was reticent about bringing Cameron in to see the headmistress, Cameron had made the rounds through Doyle, he’d taken care of Marcus’ broken collar bone, Al’s concussion, the couple of deep cuts Timothy had acquired when approaching Cohort’s battalion. And he’d tended to the banged up and bruised police officers assigned as an escort. He’d even gone so far as to heal the other attackers who’d been with Orion, as long as they had been agreeable to his help.

But Mrs. Carson was in worse shape than those others, the confrontation with Orion had shaken Ophelia’s trust in the boy. She was concerned that Cameron might lash out at the woman, who was in no condition to defend herself. The headmistress had been slipping in and out of consciousness, a dose of devisor made sedatives helping to keep her pain levels manageable.

Acid burns covered forty percent of her body, her right arm had been etched right down to bone, amputation was being considered as an option if magical healing couldn’t restore her flesh better than it had so far. Her face was only a glimmer of her former beauty, her hair and skin had melted on her right side, with large acid splotches having eaten away most else. Muscle and tendons, and sections of bone still showing.

Ophelia cautioned Cameron about her appearance before entering.

Cameron long ago had become accustomed to seeing the inner workings of the human body so he didn’t flinch at seeing the woman’s disturbing appearance. He didn’t balk with rendering help either, just stood close by and began to weave newly made sinew into muscle, lacing blood vessels and veins through them. The layers of skin he built upon were rosy pink. Hair follicles got restored and enhanced, taking some of the woman’s long golden locks and attaching them to the bald spots on her head.

A bold new haircut would be needed to balance out the uneven look of her hair, or she could wear a wig until it grew in. But she looked very much like she always did, make-up could cover the colour imperfection between the new baby like skin and her … old face.

The crossbow bolt injuries also got treated, the puncture wounds closed over with no sign a hole having pierced flesh, and any internal damage was repaired.

Cameron stepped back, raising his eyes to Ophelia, asking her: ”If there’s no one else, I’m tired and need sleep.”

~o~O~o~

Cameron sat at the table in Doyle’s small cafeteria, a few of the small tables had been moved together so the group of friends could sit together. The cafeteria had a tiny buffet with plates of food coming from a kitchen somewhere else on campus. Lynn had arranged for everyone to eat together, most of them already having been discharged from Doyle, really just Cameron and Ken waiting for the doctors to sign off on releasing them.

Charlotte sat eating her sixth kabob, it was like an eating contest between her and R.E.D. who was gorging on a deep bowl of Minestrone soup. Lynn had fish, pan seared in butter with onions and loving it. Everyone else had small samples of the variety of foods offered which filled their plates.

Marcus, who sat beside Cameron, started the conversation: “Grace wanted to say Hi, and said that anytime any of you wanted to come for a visit to Prince George, you’d be welcome.”

Cameron felt a twinge of homesickness, not something he’d had issue with recently. But just hearing Grace’s name made him miss her, an empty pit opened in his heart. “I should come visit, I think a vacation is in order.”

“I think we’re all ready to head home,” added Al Koenig. “I’m just about out of holiday days.”

“How about you Ken? Any plans?” Asked Cameron.

“Veronique is heading back to Ottawa, she got promoted and will be working from the capital.”

“You and she? Are you guys..?” Asked a hopeful Cameron.

“We went on a couple dates, there could be something there,” mused Ken with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Chase her and don’t let her out of your sight,” advised Marcus. “If you love her that is.”

“How do you know if it’s love?” Said Ken in almost a whisper.

“Love is a matter of the heart, it isn’t something the mind needs to be convinced of,” counselled Roche.

“Say’s the single man,” quipped Ken.

“I’ll know love when I find it,” Roche assured the man.

“He’s keeping an eye on my aunt, I think it’s why he hangs around my family so much,” confided R.E.D.

“You value my training so little?” Mocked Roche.

“She asked about you, by the way. Before we left home,” replied R.E.D to goad him.

“Really?” Perked up an intrigued Al.

Cameron asked of Lynn; “What’s become of your brother?”

“He and Ella have been spending time with the Medawihla and looking after Fill, her Dad has been in meetings every day since the battle out front.” Informed Lynn, eyeing up what everyone else had on their plates. “Is that pasta dish any good?” She asked of Rachel.

“Delightful, I’d be happy eating this everyday,” admitted Rachel.

“About that,” interrupted Cameron speaking up to the whole table. “I want to make an open invitation to anyone who wants to attend Whateley. I’ve had my issues with this place, but that shouldn’t prevent you from getting the education you need. I’m willing to foot the bill if you want to come here for schooling.”

Everyone sat wide eyed as they all looked at the boy, trying to discern if he was serious.

Rachel spoke first “We’ve talked about it, the few Psychic lessons I’ve taken have been really good for me. Tim has gotten much better at maneuvering while at speed. And we all think Charlotte needs special training to handle her abilities. But we hadn’t come to a conclusion yet, we wanted to know what you guys thought.”

“I too am thinking the training I can get here is what I need,” confided R.E.D. as she glanced at her hands before seeking her companions approval, receiving nods of agreement from the grown-ups.

“How about you Lynn?” Sought Cameron, looking at her giving his head a slight tilt.

“I have issues with being close to the Medawihla, but I need to stop isolating myself all the time and make some real friends,” sheepishly smiled the girl. “You guys will do.” Lynn looked down at her lap before continuing: “It’s gonna be a Battle Royale to convince Mom to let me go.”

“What about you?” Asked Charlotte, pointing a picked clean and thoroughly gnawed upon kabob skewer at Cameron.

Cameron looked at the eager faces around the table before saying: “I’ll attend if a way can be found to let me stay. Let’s just say Whateley and I aren’t on the friendliest of terms.”

~o~O~o~

Elizabeth Carson opened her eyes to see sunshine streaming in through the window, it brought a smile to her still sore face, but seeing all the bouquets of flowers amassed on every surface, and how the room smelled fantastic from all the floral arrangements spread about the hospital room, she felt good.

She had so few bandages that it surprised her, actually waking up surprised her. But she knew just how good the staff at Doyle were. Still, even miracle workers had limits.

Elizabeth lay there, she couldn’t remember ever feeling such an overwhelming tiredness before.

The chief of her medical staff knocked on the slightly ajar door before letting himself in.

“There’s a horde of well-wishers wanting to see you, I’ve held them off, but I’m hard pressed to deny the one who is responsible for your impressive recovery.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Cameron Burke.”

“That’s unexpected.”

“Shall I show him in?”

“Not alone.”

“I understand, Sam Everhart is with him, she hasn’t let him out of her sight.”

“Alright.” Conceded the headmistress.

The doctor exited and seconds later a gentle tap on the door announced her visitor.

“Come in,” she said in less than a heroic voice.

“Mrs. Carson, I won’t take up much of your time. How do you feel?”

“Surprisingly well, I understand you had a hand in that.”

“Admiral Everhart informed me how you stood up for me, sought to protect me. I pay my debts.”

“I care about this school, it’s what I’d do for any of my students.”

“That’s what I had hoped to speak with you about.”

“Go on.”

“My friends, they would like to attend Whateley. Could you find room for them next semester?”

“It can be arranged.”

“Good, I’ll be covering any associated costs.”

“What about you?”

“That is another matter I had hoped to speak with you about.”

The End