When the building called Freeland House was still a bed and breakfast, the room had been the second floor sun porch. A brass plate next to the double doors that connected it to the hall still called it such. Time had not been kind to it. In the five years after it had been sold, dust and mold had colonized, rendering the original padding on the two futons unsanitary. The wicker furniture was still serviceable, but frayed and worn all the same. A thick coat of grime on the bay windows made it almost impossible to see out of them.

What it had been held no meaning to anyone present, for this night the room was an infirmary.

On one futon lay a man in his mid twenties. His hair was matted in blood, his clothes soaked in the same. His wounds had been closed, but he had yet to regain consciousness from the beating he had taken earlier in the day.

Across from him on the other futon, lay a young man of Arabic descent, probably sixteen or seventeen. He was also unconscious, but with no signs of violence on his body. Whatever had been done to him before had all but shut down his motor functions.

Between the two, a tall, black woman in her twenties sat hugging a weeping, redheaded teenager tightly, cooing calming words to her while trying her hardest to keep from crying herself. The damage done had not all been physical.

Alexis Keyes watched everything from the doorway, trying desperately to piece everything together, asking herself how they had come to be here and if things had to turn out this way. The more troubling thing on her mind however, was that everything was happening not for something they had done, but for something they were.

The government called them ‘psionics’, though that name hardly described the variety and range of the powers that such people displayed. No one seemed to be able to agree on their origin, but the prevailing theory was that they were the descendants of test subjects in hundreds of different experiments conducted in the 1940’s and 50’s.

It had taken five generations for the first obvious effects of the experiments to be noticed and by then there were thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of people across the globe displaying supernatural powers and genetic deformities.

Alexis had attended a school for such people; the Psionics Training and Application Academy, along with Laurel Brant; the woman currently comforting the young girl, and Ian Smythe, the wounded man on the couch. They had become best friends there. In fact, Alexis looked back on her time at the Academy as some of the happiest years of her life.

She had been so happy there that she had taken a job teaching there to help the next generation as had been done for her.

An involuntary shudder ran through her body. That was where the trouble had started.

Three days ago, she had gone down to the archives to provide enrollment data from the earliest years of the school to a local journalist doing a piece on the Academy. While there, she had stumbled across a misplaced file from the Data Retrieval Department. Inside was a memo concerning the students that applied for the Academy. Eighty percent of those who registered to enter the school were admitted. The rest were captured and placed in stasis for something called ‘data retrieval’.

Alexis allowed herself to slide down the doorframe into a sitting position, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her straight, black hair fell in a curtain over her eyes. She had believed in the Academy, in its promise to train gifted people like herself and help them use their abilities to make the world a better place. Now she just felt like a fool, taken in by honeyed words and grand promises.

She had been a student there – a teacher there. But what was she really? Bait, she realized, to lure in the next twenty percent of applicants for ‘data retrieval’. Twenty percent. The Academy admitted hundreds of students a year. If they were the remaining eighty percent, then hundreds, perhaps thousands had been put into stasis.

Fear had driven her to seek out her two friends in Washington State, where they had both sought employment as researchers for Brant Industries, the company owned by Laurel’s billionaire father, after over a year of being incommunicado. Inadvertently, she had also led an agent in the employ of the Academy called Prometheus directly to Ian’s home.

As Alexis struggled to explain what she had discovered, Prometheus had attacked, burning Ian’s home to the ground in the process. Fleeing, the trio had hatched a plan to rescue the captured students being held in stasis in the Academy’s research center.

Images of stasis cells flickered across Alexis’s memory. It made her dizzy with nausea. She knew stasis only as a medical term. Terminal patients were put into stasis as an emergency last measure. The process was traumatic and few were ever kept in stasis more than a few days for fear of permanent physical damage to motor function. The Academy, however had apparently been putting people in stasis for its entire sixteen year history.

Alexis glanced up at the red head in Laurel’s arms. Her name was Melissa Forrester and she was living proof that the Academy had been putting people in stasis for at least eleven years. She had been Alexis’s roommate in freshman year. Now, over a decade later, Melissa was still physically and mentally sixteen. Recognizing Alexis, Laurel and Ian had been a shock to her system however and she hadn’t stopped crying since they had taken her out of stasis.

Even worse off than Melissa, however was Kareem Utt, the teen lying on the futon opposite Ian. The documentation on his stasis cell had said that he had been in stasis for four years, but that time had had serious detrimental effects on him. He was effectively in a coma, but in his case, this had not left him unable to sense his surroundings or communicate. Even while in his coma, his telepathic powers and ability to project himself onto the Astral Plane remained active, allowing him to speak mentally to others.

At the moment however, Kareem remained silent.

Alexis, Laurel and Ian had rescued two other teens from stasis; Warrick Kaine and Cynthia McAllister; though neither of those two seemed to have suffered any harm mentally or physically and were even now watching television down the hall from the makeshift infirmary.

That rescue had take place earlier that day. Ian had once again come face to face with Prometheus as he tried to stall and give Alexis time to take the kids to safety. In the process, he had taken a brutal beating before Alexis could return to fly him to safety.

After that, Laurel had taken over from the physically and emotionally drained Alexis. She had calmed Melissa down long enough to get her the healing touch that was part of her psionic ability on Ian. Then she had driven everyone to this place – Freeland House. It belonged to her father, William Brant via a number of shell corporations and he had in turn directed her to it when he had learned of the plight of the group.

In truth, Alexis expected nothing less from Laurel. Though she was hyper-cognitive, capable of retaining any and all information she read or learned, and therefore one of the most intelligent people on the planet, she was also one of the most empathetic people on the planet. Like her father, Laurel’s primary concern in life was that everyone around her was happy.

As if sensing Alexis was thinking about her, Laurel looked up from the now sleeping form of Melissa. “Are you doing any better now, Alex?” she asked like a concerned mother.

Alexis shook her head. “It’s just a lot to take in, Laurel.” She said dumbly. “I mean… a few days ago, I was so happy to be working for the Academy and now…” She choked back a sob.

Gently laying Melissa to the side, Laurel stood and walked over to kneel beside her friend. “There’s no way you could have known, Alex.” She said sympathetically. “And look at it this way; now that we know about this, we can do something about it.”

“How?” Alexis asked, holding back another sob. “Are we going to lobby Congress? The Academy is government funded, Laurel. Even with your father’s connections, I’m not sure people that send pyrokinetics to hunt down people who know too much are going to care much about politics.”

“There are other ways of doing things, you know?” Laurel said, moving to sit against the wall, beside Alexis. “These four kids were all there were at the Academy campus; that means they’re holding others elsewhere. We can find them and save more kids from stasis at least. I’d wager that at least one of those places has some concrete evidence we can use too.”

Blinking, Alexis looked over at Laurel. “You mean fight them again? But you saw what happened to Ian.”

“Ian will be fine.” Laurel cut her off. “Remember, he’s the one that came up with the idea to try and rescue people from stasis in the first place.” She spared a glance toward where Ian lay. “You know he’ll be all for doing it again no matter how many hits he takes. It’s just his way.”

“Even if we are willing,” Alexis said, seriously considering the notion now, “Can we seriously deal with the likes of Enforcers like Prometheus? He nearly killed Ian.”

“With the help of a Brant Industries powered armor suit.” Laurel pointed out. “A version a lot older than the ones Ian and I were working on when you came to us. I’m not one to brag, but between you and Ian’s powers and some new technology, we could even the playing field.”

Melissa made a sound in her sleep and drew both women’s attention.

Alexis’s contemplation of Laurel’s plan stopped dead. “We can’t though. The kids… we can’t just send them back home for the Academy to recapture at their leisure. We need to keep them here to protect them. And we need to fix this place up so they can live here comfortably. There’s no way we could do that if we’re running around the country breaking into research facilities.”

“I can stay here to hold down the fort.” Laurel said. “You know, make sure you two have a home to come back to, watch the kids, that sort of thing.”

“But fighting was your idea. Why would you bow out to play den mother?”

“Because I wouldn’t be very useful fighting.” Laurel shrugged. “Ian can control the density of liquid and gas – even back in school, he was able to do real damage with that. You have your ‘black heat’. Until today, I never saw you use it offensively, but you can fuse steel with those little bolts of darkness you throw.” She shifted to a more comfortable position against the wall. “Me? I’m smart. And that’s about it as far as powers go. What am I going to do in a fight, engage the enemy in intellectual discussion?”

Alexis nodded. If Laurel said she wouldn’t be much use in a fight, she wouldn’t be. Still, the concept of using her powers offensively was a foreign concept to her. Back at the Academy, she only used her ability; to generate a charged particle cloud her instructors called ‘black heat’, to fly, or render herself invisible. Even then, using her power to bend light around her left her blind and never seemed like much of a good idea. Of course, at the Academy, using one’s powers to do harm or property damage was a serious offense and it was discouraged to even contemplate such.

The Academy’s stated purpose was to groom gifted youths to use their powers in civil service capacities. It was generally assumed that those who entered the armed services received special training in the offensive uses of their powers.

More subversive elements circulated rumors of non-government affiliated individuals that acted as vigilantes; using their powers to fight for their own causes, usually breaking up criminal enterprises. These days, a few of these were widely known. The ones most popular in the public eye had become known collectively as ‘prelates’.

After a few moments of silent thought, Alexis put her head back against the doorframe. “I’m not exactly ready to be a prelate, Laurel. For one thing, it’d draw a lot of unneeded attention; something these kids don’t need.”

Laurel nodded, accepting her decision even if she didn’t agree.

“But I’ll tell you what; once Ian’s back on his feet and this place is fixed up, then we’ll see what we can do about all of this, okay?” Alexis managed to give her friend a small smile.

A long groan came from Ian. Both women looked up to see him starting to stir. Slowly, he swung his feet off the futon, and sat up. Coughing, he ran a hand through his blood encrusted hair.

“Oh, man… what happened?” He managed, looking at his now bloodied hand. He was still very unsteady and confusion from both blood loss and Melissa’s healing touch were taking their toll. “And why am I so dizzy?” He wondered aloud as his friends rose and came to his side.

“Melissa healed you.” Laurel said, reaching him slightly ahead of Alexis. “But all she really does is speed up your body’s natural healing process and your metabolism. You’re probably suffering from an abnormally low blood sugar...” She paused, noting Ian’s confused expression. “Her healing makes you hungry.” She said plainly, albeit with a bit of a dissatisfied smirk.

Ian looked around. “Where are the other two?” He asked, referring to the kids.

“Down the hall, watching television.” Laurel pointed vaguely.

“Uh-huh. And where exactly are we?” Ian asked, shaking his head to clear it as Alexis sat down beside him.

“Mayfield, Virginia.” Alexis said. “Laurel bought us here. This place is her dad’s.”

“We’re safe here if that’s what you’re worried about.” Laurel said gently. “I’ve set up enough fake credit card uses to lead them to Atlanta.”

Ian nodded, swaying slightly. He cast another glance in Melissa’s direction. “Hey, Alexis… is that girl really…”

Alexis nodded. “Melissa Forrester, my old roommate from the Academy.”

“How?” Ian asked, starting to stand, but the fatigue caused his knees to buckle. “She’s just a kid. Melissa would be our age now.”

“I’ll go get you something to eat.” Laurel started toward the door. “This isn’t going to be any easier to explain with you malnourished.”

“It’s just how stasis works. She doesn’t remember a thing after coming back to the school after spring break.” Alexis gave the sleeping girl a sympathetic look. “She’s going to need a lot of time to adjust to all this. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Noting the need for a subject change from Alexis’s weary tone, Ian gestured toward Kareem. “Has he woken up at all yet?”

Alexis shrugged. “In his way. He’s a telepath, so he can talk to us mentally when he wants to. But Laurel doesn’t know how much damage the stasis has done to his body. He may not wake up at all, physically speaking.” She trembled at the thought.

“Hey,” Ian looked over at Alexis. “That doesn’t sound like you. Back in school, you were pretty much the leader of our little group. Laurel’s the smart one, but you always found a way to get things done. You, me, and Laurel? I don’t think there’s anything the three of us can’t do.”

She couldn’t help but give him a smile. “That was years ago though. I’m not used to telling people what to do anymore. In truth, I always thought I was kind of a bitch to you and Laurel in school.”

Ian nodded, most of his vertigo receding. “That’s why you didn’t come to Washington with us, isn’t it? And why you stayed away from us months at a time?”

This time Alexis couldn’t stop a few tears from escaping her eyes and trickling down her face. She could only give a small nod. Her first few years teaching at the Academy had been an eye opener for her; seeing teens acting in much the same way she had with her friends and not really liking what she saw.

Ian put a hand on her shoulder, trying not to tip over in the process. “Look, we never did things we didn’t want to do and you never pushed us. You just happened to be really good at coming up with ideas.” He looked around the tumbledown room and made a resolute face. “How about we start small; how are we going to get this place fixed up without telling the world we’re here?”

It was well past midnight, though Cynthia had no idea how late it was exactly. The adults; Alexis, Laurel and Ian had fallen asleep in the makeshift infirmary a few hours ago after several more hours of soft talking behind the closed doors of the former sun porch.

She remained in the upstairs commons; separated from the sun porch by a long hallway that led to four of the smaller guest rooms of the former inn. Not far from her seat on the floor, Warrick Kaine, a scrawny looking Italian, sat on the much patched couch.

Since they had arrived at Freeland House, the two had been watching the old television that was the only piece of furniture in the upstairs commons aside from the couch. They’d said very little besides arguing over what to watch.

At this hour, the only programs on were infomercials, but neither teen was very eager to go to sleep after waking up to learn that they had been prisoners of the Academy, held in stasis for reasons not forthcoming.

Cynthia leaned her head back against the couch and looked over at Warrick. He sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at a demonstration of a new kind of vacuum cleaner on the television. After a few moments, he noticed her watching him in the dim light provided by the TV monitor.

“So…” he began, not really knowing what to say to the strange girl. In the half day he had known her, the sum of the information he knew about her was limited to her name, her lack of appreciation for crime dramas, and the fact that when Laurel had stopped at a fast food place to get everyone something to eat, she had put away six cheeseburgers.

On top of it all, she looked like no one he’d ever met. She was five foot five, with stark, white hair cut off around her neck. Her skin was almost as white and almost featureless except for the freckles on her face. The weirdest things about her though were her eyes. Warrick knew lots of people with green eyes, but most people’s irises had flecks of other colors in them. Cynthia’s were pure, uniform green. In a word, she was odd; though in retrospect, Warrick had met far stranger people at the Academy.

“So what?” Cynthia asked after a few minutes of silence between the two.

“Um… what are your powers?” Warrick asked. For anyone who had spent any time at the Academy, the question was every bit as hackneyed as asking ‘what’s your sign’, but it seemed a less ignorant question than ‘so what’s with your eyes’, which had been Warrick’s original question.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. The question was, after all, one she had answered dozens of times in her life. Still, discussing each other’s powers was more interesting that watching a washed up actor babble about ‘new suction technology’. “You tell me about yours, first.”

“Eh, okay. I control metal. I also sense the properties of metal I look at.” Warrick started. His ‘metal sense’ was hard to explain in and of itself; it allowed him to ‘sense’ the composition and condition of elemental metals and their compounds and alloys, but in a way that didn’t lend itself to accurate explanation.

“There’s a lot more to it than that; involving ions and all sorts of other stuff they said they were going to put me in advanced chemistry classes about; but of course, I woke up in a creepy glass coffin before that happened.” There was a pause while he thought of how to explain the more enigmatic side of his powers.

“There’s something else I can do… or summon – whatever; but it’d be a lot easier to show you. Did you see any spare metal around here when we came in?

“Summon?” Cynthia raised an eyebrow. She had been worried that she was going to sound strange, especially to someone with general elemental powers. Aside from minor telepathy, controlling certain types of matter was the most common power she’d heard of. Summoning something was definitely a new one in her book.

Warrick got up and wandered down the short hall that connected the commons to the open space that separated the rooms in the west wing of the house from each other. The area was populated by a now defunct ice machine, a wooden table, placed there long ago for some unknown purpose, and a wire wastebasket.

“Like I said, they’re a lot easier to show you than explain.” He said; picking up the wastebasket and padding back out to the commons.

“They?” Again, Cynthia’s vocabulary was reduced to repeating singular words.

“Yeah, ‘they’.” Warrick shrugged as if Cynthia knew exactly what he was talking about. With no more commentary, he focused his power on the wastebasket, melting it into silvery slag in his hands. Defying all physics, the liquid blob remained in Warrick’s hands as he continued dictating its form. Moments later, the blob divided into two roughly equal amounts and slithered up Warrick’s arms, forming into intricate bands around his biceps.

“Neat trick,” Cynthia sighed as the metal solidified once more. “But that’s not exactly summoning anything. That’s just your power working on the metal.” She couldn’t believe that she had gotten her hopes up that his powers would be interesting.

Warrick held up a finger. “That wasn’t the trick. I just need to have some metal around my arms to do it.” He cracked his neck for effect, and then extended his arms out to the sides. “This is the trick!” The moment he had wrapped the former wastebasket around his arms, he had felt the nascent potential for ‘them’ to come into being in the back of his head. Bringing them into being was more a matter of allowing the power to work than actively triggering it.

The bands around his arms pulsed, tightening slightly before changing shape once more. Part of them remained wrapped firmly around his upper arms, but the remainder snaked out into a pair of liquid metal tentacles.

Cynthia goggled. The things certainly weren’t acting under the influence of Warrick’s power any longer. He wasn’t concentrating at all and yet, the tentacles still writhed, seeming to sense their environment.

“Well, here they are.” Warrick said. “You don’t need to be freaked out or anything, they’re well behaved.”

“Well behaved… tentacles?” Cynthia muttered. “How are you doing that?”

Warrick shrugged, resuming his seat on the couch while the tentacles continued surveying their new surroundings. “I have no idea, to tell the truth. Once I summon them, I don’t have to do anything unless I want to tell them to do something. They get by pretty well on their own without me telling them what to do.”

A tiny part of Cynthia was impressed. A slightly larger part was relieved that his powers were, in fact, as strange as her own. The majority of her, however, was busy recoiling in confusion as one of the tentacles made its way over to her and began to – for lack of a better word – look her over.

“I don’t think she likes that, guys.” Warrick said, apparently to the tentacles. He was able to mentally direct them; but he generally felt better speaking to them aloud.

The tentacle backed away from Cynthia and went off to investigate the underside of the couch.

“Okay,” Warrick said after a few moments of watching a bewildered Cynthia watch the tentacles “Now it’s your turn.”

Forcing herself to ignore the tentacles as they explored the room, Cynthia looked up at Warrick. “From how they explained my powers when I entered the Academy, I’m a ‘consummate shapeshifter’.” She paused to wait for the inevitable question.

“What’s the ‘consummate’ part about?” Warrick asked on cue.

“It means ‘perfect’.” Cynthia said, settling back against the couch. “Most shapeshifters have limits; they can only turn into forms they’ve seen, they can only assume humanoid forms – the more limited ones can just grow claws or change their skin color. Me, on the other hand, my body’s basically like clay. I can change shape in any way I want, change color… hell, even my immune system changes instantly to adapt to things.”

“Sweet.” Warrick grinned. “You’ve got like fifty super powers rolled into one.”

“There is a downside, you know.” Cynthia pointed out. She moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch from Warrick. As soon as she was sure she had his attention, she made a few, quick alterations. Her eyes flashed red and she opened her mouth to reveal a pair of sharp fangs and a forked tongue.

The tentacles reacted before Warrick did, lashing into position to defend him seconds before his frightened yelp. Cynthia herself jumped back at the sight of the tentacles. After a moment of tense silence, both teens realized what had happened and started laughing.

Cynthia recovered first and reverted to her normal self. “Wow, they’re certainly protective of you, aren’t they?”

The tentacles slowly calmed and slithered away to continue their exploration. “Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but they’re actually really good friends to me.” Warrick said; feeling a bit embarrassed. “So what was with the ‘bride of Dracula’ bit?”

“Sorry, but I did owe you for springing the tentacles on me.” Cynthia grinned mischievously. “Anyway, do you have any idea how much energy it took to make even that tiny little change and go back again?”

“I’m going to guess ‘a lot’.” Warrick admitted.

“Bingo, Sherlock.” Cynthia snorted. “Basically, half of the times I use my powers, its unconscious. Even for little things like minor scrapes, or a cold? My body uses my shapeshifting to deal with it instead of doing things the normal way. To make up for that, my metabolism is insane.”

“That explains eating more than the rest of us combined at the take out place.” Warrick noted.

Cynthia nodded. “Pretty much. And that pretty much does it for my powers.” She glanced over to the TV again. A new program selling exercise equipment was starting. “I still don’t feel like going to bed. How about asking another stupid question?”

“It wasn’t that stupid a question.” Warrick defended himself. “People may ask it a lot, but it’s not stupid.”

“Fine, I’ll ask one then.” Cynthia huffed, refusing to deny that Warrick’s question was stupid. “Where’re you from?”

Warrick beamed. “Brooklyn. To tell the truth, I can’t wait to get back. In fact, I was getting ready to go home for Christmas break before all this happened.”

“I think both of us missed Christmas; it’s May now.” Cynthia said. “I also missed Christmas of ’72 in that damn glass box.” After a second’s thought, she shrugged, “Not that I care. I wasn’t going home for break anyhow.”

“How come?”

“Let’s just say that at home, all my powers amounted to was being the equivalent of four more mouths to feed.” Cynthia grimaced. “Either that, or a humanoid scratching post. I don’t’ give much of a damn if I ever go back to North Carolina again.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry, Cyn.” Warrick’s expression was serious now. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore topic.” Even the tentacles seemed to be feeling sorry for her. Suddenly realizing something, Warrick added. “Er… can I call you Cyn?”

“Actually, I made everyone at the Academy call me Cyn.” The white haired girl replied. “And don’t feel bad for me – I asked the question in the first place.”

“But –“

“Look,” Cynthia said, “I don’t much care for my family, but it’s not something I dwell on, okay? I was doing pretty well at the Academy.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Until they turned out to be evil with the intent to dissect me that is.”

Neither teen said anything for some time after that. Finally, Warrick piped up. “Hey, Cyn? What do you think is going to happen now? I mean, they’re not going to send us home with the Academy still wanting to do whatever the hell it was they were doing.”

Cynthia was very close to falling asleep when Warrick’s question roused her. “I don’t know. They’ll probably think of some way to let our parents know we’re okay. Aside from that… I’ve got no idea. Apparently that Laurel woman’s a super genius or something, so I’m sure they’ll figure something out.”

A few more moments of silence followed.

“Hey, Cyn?” Warrick asked.

“Yeah?” Cynthia asked, once more being pulled from the brink of sleep.

“If you don’t want to go back to your family; once this is all over, you can come to Brooklyn. My family’s pretty cool. My mom’s in advertising, my dad’s a voice actor – they’re both really laid back. Plus, my sister’s a good kid all in all.”

“Heh.” The white haired girl gave a small laugh. “Thanks Warrick.” As she fell asleep, she wondered if the other people in the house were as decent as the metal controlling New Yorker.

-- • --

Melissa closed the door to her dorm room behind her and dropped her suitcase on the floor. It was far too cold outside for spring, at least for her tastes. Being back in her warm dorm room was a treat in and of itself.

Strange, she thought. The light was already on. Alexis must already be back from holiday. Removing her jacket and tossing it on the back of her computer chair, Melissa walked over to the bathroom door.

“Alexis? It’s me, Melissa. Just letting you know I’m back too, in case you heard the door open.” She said to the closed door.

There was no answer.

“Odd, she must have stepped across the hall for something.” Melissa dismissed her missing roommate quickly as she went over and sat on her bed to take off her shoes. As she did so, the faintest flicker of movement caught her eye.

She looked up and saw only her own reflection in the mirror the closet door. Something wasn’t quite right about the reflection though. It seemed distorted, as if she was looking at the mirror through water. Something in Melissa’s head told her to run. Dropping the one shoe she had removed, she stood.

“Shit.” A voice came from the vicinity of the mirror. There was a click and pain blossomed in Melissa’s chest. She looked down to see a dart with a three inch needle protruding from it. The edges of her vision dimmed.

The redhead managed to run a few more steps to the door before her muscles betrayed her and she collapsed. Her last sensation before losing consciousness was of cold metal clamping her arms to her sides.

Melissa sat up on the wicker chair she had been sleeping in, her eyes bursting open and a gasp escaping her. Instinctively, her hand went to pull out the dart, but found nothing. It was just a dream, she realized. Sighing with relief, she looked at her surroundings.

She remembered room now, as well as the events leading up to being there. Goose pimples ran up her arms as she recalled waking up in a stasis cell. They only got worse when she recalled who it was that had awakened her.

Her former roommate, Alexis was sprawled over the arm of one of the futons, snoring lightly. Alexis’s best friend, the excessively cheerful and smart black girl she even now mistakenly identified as Laura was curled up on the other side of the futon, an innocent smile on her face. The third of the trio that spend most of their spare time in Melissa and Alexis’s dorm room; Ian, had situated himself on the floor, head lolling back against the futon. He too was asleep.

People don’t change as much as they tend to think. Even in the span of a decade, the trio was instantly recognizable by the redhead.

Melissa shook her head. This wasn’t right. She has just seen them… a week ago? She suddenly remembered the date on a bank sign they had passed earlier in the day; May 5, 2074. Somehow, she had lost over ten years in that cell.

Tears began to well up in her eyes. She hadn’t even lost those years, she had simply not lived them; lying frozen in time while her friends had grown up and life passed her by. She actually surprised herself in calling them her friends. Alexis and company had certainly tried to include her, but Melissa had less than politely turned them down each time.

She was just getting used to repressing her power (apart from her healing touch), and was having a hard time getting used to people being in genuine high spirits without the stimulating effect she impressed on people with her presence.

The fact was that she was considering actually taking them up on their offers of friendship when… She began to cry again.

I don’t mean to intrude… a voice said, but why are you crying?

Melissa froze and looked around. No one in the room had stirred. Where had that voice come from?

You were crying earlier as well. The voice continued. Discovery of our situation was stressful, I will admit, but even as I am, I did not take things as hard as you did.

“Who are you?” Melissa said in almost a whisper. “Where are you?”

My name is Kareem Utt. I am currently standing in front of you, albeit on the Astral Plane. My body is still lying on the couch to your right.

Slowly, Melissa turned and looked at the person lying there. If he had been awake and standing, he would have been tall, dark and handsome in the redhead’s opinion. As it stood, he was just richly tanned and pleasing to look at.

“That’s you?” She asked. “Then how are you talking to me?”

That is my body, yes. Kareem said telepathically. He had already been over his situation with Laurel and Alexis and feared that he would have to repeat his conversations with them verbatim to everyone at Freeland House. But I, like you, am gifted. My powers allow me to travel outside of my body, on the astral plane as well as communicate with people’s minds.

Melissa’s eyes widened. “You can read my mind?”

I can actually read much more than that—though I do my best not to intrude on people’s privacy, I can sense emotions, read memories and hear subconscious thoughts that you yourself are not aware of. Inexplicably, Melissa felt a hint of embarrassment from Kareem.

However, my abilities seem to be heightened now that my body is in a coma. I have been having trouble not delving very deeply when I speak to others telepathically.

“What have you gotten from me then?” Melissa asked.

You do not have to speak out loud. I can hear surface thoughts quite clearly.

Melissa frowned, and then concentrated. What have you gotten from me?, she asked again.

As I said, I do try not to delve to deeply… Kareem replied nervously; Please do not think that I am some kind of astral side voyeur because I am not.

Then tell me. Melissa demanded.

There was a sensation of shame from Kareem. I sensed your feeling of loss because of your time in stasis. I also sensed your distain for your power. If you do not mind my asking; why is it that you disliked making people happy?

Melissa frowned. There was no way that the telepath could understand how it felt to never get an appropriate response to her problems. Her stimulant power had caused nothing but heartache since it had manifested.

I do believe I can understand, Miss Forrester. Kareem said; being able to hear exactly what everyone thinks of oneself is disconcerting to say the least.

I didn’t think that to you. Melissa replied suspiciously.

Oh my. I am sorry, Miss Forrester. You just thought it so strongly… I assumed…

I see what you mean about the problems telepathy can cause. Melissa said, trying to soften her mental tone. But really, its nothing compared to having your parents overcome with joy when you bring home all D’s, or having your first date break down into a laughing fit in the middle of a kiss. My power is definitely more trouble than it’s worth.

I can see how it can feel like a curse, but I can also see the silver linings. Kareem answered. Also, you do have your healing touch.

Melissa shrugged. Don’t remind me. I’m the only healer on record that can use my powers on other people without a blood transfusion. I’ve been poked, prodded and studied since I was ten because of it.

Miss Forrester, you make my usual optimism very difficult.

You know, Alexis used to say the same thing to me. Melissa allowed herself a chuckle. I’ve always been more of a realist than an optimist.

The opposite of optimism is pessimism, not realism. Kareem pointed out.

Alexis said that too. I still say realism is close enough to being the opposite. She glanced over at Alexis and sighed. We may not have been friends, exactly, but we used to talk about everything.

Why can you not talk about everything now?

Look at us! Melissa shouted mentally. She’s lived a whole other life now. I bet she and Ian are married at this point. She’s not going to want to talk until two in the morning with a kid half her age.

Silence followed the next few moments and Melissa began to wonder if she’d chased Kareem away.

There are other people here our age. Kareem eventually returned.

Melissa nodded. She had tried her best to ignore them on the trip to Freeland House. The other girl had referred to her as ‘crazy girl’ the entire time, despite repeated admonishments from Laurel, Alexis and the other boy. She had taken an immediate dislike for her.

If you do not like Miss McAllister, you could at least speak to Warrick. Kareem offered.

Why is it, Melissa asked, that you call him by his first name, but me and that other girl as ‘Miss’.

Kareem gave a mental shrug. It is just how I was raised. How would you like me to refer to you?

The thought brought a frown to Melissa’s face. For most of her life, she had been called ‘Missy’ by her aunts and grandparents. She certainly didn’t like that. Alexis and Ian called her ‘lissa almost exclusively. That had been only marginally more tolerable than Missy. For once, she wanted to be just ‘Melissa’.

Melissa it is, then. Kareem said before she had even fully completed the thought. Suddenly realizing his faux pas, Kareem sputtered. I am sorry. I did not mean…

It’s fine, Kareem. I just have to get used to what I think in your direction, I guess.

Thank you for your understanding, Melissa. Kareem said.

Don’t mention it. She sent back. Looking over at the sleeping trio and then back to the spot she had decided to focus on when ‘speaking’ to Kareem. I think I’m going to try going back to sleep now, Kareem. It was nice meeting you.

You as well, Melissa. Kareem said. On the astral plane, he moved away from her as she lay back down in the wicker chair.

On this side, the world was rose colored and vaguely translucent. People and other higher organisms were the only things that could be seen in true color and those colors didn’t directly correlate to their real world counterparts. Kareem moved without taking steps, simply gliding through the room and eventually, passing through the doors themselves.

Just outside them was a short hallway connecting the sun porch to the upstairs common room. There were doors on either side of it, each leading into one of the inn rooms. Kareem gave them a cursory glance as he floated past, but continued on to the commons.

There he found Warrick and Cynthia passed out on either end of the sofa with the TV still on. He gave them a smile as he floated up and out; onto the roof of Freeland House.

On the astral plane, neither clouds nor pollution marred the night sky, affording the young man an unfettered view of it. It never failed to awe and inspire him. Even now, as his body lay useless below him, Kareem felt new hope. Unlike the others, he had heard Alexis and Laurel discussing the future for the kids they had rescued from the Academy.

This, he knew, would be home, at least for a while. And after touching the hearts and emotions of those who lived there, he felt that perhaps there was no better place for them in the world. He floated upwards a bit, to the extent he felt was safe for him to travel from his body and looked back at Freeland House.

In the real world, where time had taken its toll and stripped away decades of work by generations of previous owners as well as countless more years of memories it had played a part in creating, Freeland House was run down and looked barely livable.

But on the astral side, where belief is power and potential is made manifest; Freeland House was glorious.

-- • --

Laurel woke up at seven the next morning, groaning slightly from the aches in her back from sleeping on the futon. Having proper mattresses and, if need be, beds brought in had climbed quickly to the top of her list of priorities.

And indeed, she already had quite a list in her head. Hypercognition was not an ability that one could turn on and off and, as a result, she had already begun figuring out what needed to be done at Freeland House.

Beds were number one now – actually number two, second only to medical devices to treat Kareem’s condition. On top of the futons being uncomfortable, she and Alexis had already discovered that most of the mattresses in the place had either been removed by the previous owners or had totally dry rotted. The futons themselves had needed to be covered in trash bags to protect Ian and Kareem from possible mold in the cushions.

Appliances were next on the list. A quick survey of the place had revealed that only the electrical lights, the televisions in the upstairs and downstairs commons, and the heating/air-conditioning unit were operational. Most of the rest had either been left to fall into disrepair or taken by the previous owner.

General repairs to the house itself would be trickier…

It occurred to Laurel that she should be recording this all in her notebook computer. It wasn’t that she needed it to remember all that she was thinking about; she just felt surer of her ideas once she saw them written out on a screen.

Yawning and stretching, she listened to the satisfying cracking sound her back made before reaching for her bag. It wasn’t there. A hazy recollection of leaving the bag in the car while Alexis and Warrick were trying to carry Kareem out of the back seat came to her. With one last stretch, she got up and left the sun porch.

The wooden floorboards squeaked slightly under her feet as she walked up the short hall to the upstairs commons. They too would need to be replaced. Laurel had a sinking feeling that everything but the structure would need renovation before everything was said and done. But the floorboards wear merely loose, not rotten, so they fell near the bottom of Laurel’s mental list.

Warrick and Cynthia were still asleep on the couch in the commons. Laurel spared them a smile as she switched the television off.

The commons had a staircase on either side leading to the downstairs commons as well as a sliding glass door that led out to the deck overlooking to swimming pool outside. Laurel took the stairs, coming out on the east end of the downstairs commons.

The furniture here had fared better than their upstairs counterparts. Three couches; two upholstered and one made of leather sat in the middle of the room, all facing a coffee table. On the western wall sat an oak dinette set complete with sturdy wooden chairs. A plasma television dominated the northern wall between the staircases.

At least this room needed very little work, Laurel thought. Apart from that, most of the guest rooms needed only new carpeting and beds. The other furniture, if not the fixtures were intact.

Still trying to shake off sleep as well as mentally populating the rooms she passed through for her list, Laurel contemplated checking the rooms in the east wing’s first floor as well as the ones on the hallway running behind the stairs. She decided just to get her computer first.

She cut through the kitchen on her way outside. The room had been gutted of everything but the built in cabinets, table and the broken refrigerator. That room was going to cost most of all. Adding everything needed to make the kitchen usable again kept her occupied as she unlocked the side door and stepped out into what had been the garden.

At one time, Freeland House’s garden might have rivaled any in the state. Now, however, all but the hedgerow had died; leaving weed filled plots flanking an over grown, cobblestone path. A stone bench and dried up pond were the only proof the place had been a garden.

Beautification of the property would have to wait until the necessities were taking care of, Laurel’s pragmatic side pointed out. Nonetheless, however, Laurel’s softer side placed landscaping somewhat ahead of the squeaky floorboards.

The parking lot for Freeland House was just beyond the garden. In the heyday of the inn, it had been able to hold a dozen cars. Now only Laurel’s sport utility vehicle sat there, parked across four spaces in her haste to get Ian and Kareem inside.

Laurel opened the back door of the huge, silver vehicle and retrieved the wayward messenger bag and headed back into the house. Before she even closed the door, she heard someone coming down the stairs.

“Hello?” Cynthia asked, looking around the downstairs commons.

“Good morning, Cynthia. Did you sleep well?” Laurel asked, emerging from the kitchen.

Cynthia shrugged.

Laurel smiled. “Don’t worry; by the end of the day, you’ll have your own bed. No more couches, I promise.”

“So then we were right.” Cynthia said. “You guys do plan on keeping us here?”

Laurel sighed. “Don’t make it sound as bad as all that. If you really want to take your chances with the Academy, then you’re free to go.” She crossed over to the leather couch. “But I’ll be honest with you; I think this place is the best place for the four of you at the moment. You parents simply don’t have the ability to deal with people like Prometheus if he should find you. And let’s be honest, there’s less of a chance that he’ll find you here.”

“I never said anything about going back to my family.” Cynthia said, taking a seat on one of the other couches. “But yeah, you’re right. After all, you are the super genius.”

For a moment, Laurel considered asking what the white haired girl had meant about her family, but she decided to leave it alone for the moment. “That’s what they tell me.” She opened her computer and switched it on.

“In any event;” Laurel said, leaning back as the machine booted up. “I’m going to try to do my best for you all. All three of us are. But first, let’s see what we can do to make this place livable, shall we?”

“I hope that’s Laurel-speak for ‘I’ve already ordered real beds and they’ll be here soon’.” Ian said, coming down the stairs. He had found time to wash the blood out of his dark brown hair, but still wore his slashed and blood blackened shirt. His five-o’clock shadow made him look far older than he was.

“Not yet, my computer’s still trying to find the wireless internet frequency for Mayfield.” Laurel replied.

“But they will be here soon, right?” Ian sat across from Cynthia and shot both women a grin. “Not that I didn’t mind sleeping between two hot women last night, but that sofa is the worst bed ever. It even smells funny.”

“Yes, Ian.” Laurel said.

Ian suddenly acted as if he’d just seen Cynthia. “Oh, hey… Cynthia, right?”

“Everyone can just call me Cyn, if you don’t mind.” She said, giving him a quizzical look. “You really don’t act like a guy who just got the crap kicked out of him and now has a bunch of Academy Enforcers on his trail.”

Ian looked to Laurel. “She’s an optimistic one, isn’t she?”

Laurel gave a small shrug.

With a sigh, Ian turned back to Cyn. “I guess you and all the others pretty much know what’s going on then? I was pretty… well bloody and unconscious on the car ride here.” When she nodded, he continued. “The important thing right now is that we’re all safe, okay?

“We’re going to try to deal with this whole deal with the Academy quickly, but to be honest; it may take a long time. I’m really sorry for all this – especially since it was my idea in the first place, but it’s better than being in those stasis cells another year.”

Cyn nodded. “That’s true. I guess you guys just want us to try not to get underfoot while you three try to find a way to fix things then?”

Ian nodded. “We’re not going to try to be your parents” he gave Laurel a sidelong look. “At least I’m not going to.”

The conversation was cut short as Warrick stumbled down the stairs. The tentacles had wrapped most of their length around his arms, but about two feet of each still waved in the air, occasionally grabbing the sides of the banister to steady him. It wasn’t his entrance that had cut off conversation, but the determined look on his face.

The young man certainly didn’t cut an imposing figure; he only topped five feet, six inches because of the unkempt mass of brown-black hair on his head and he probably didn’t weight more than 120 pounds soaking wet. Even the tentacles looked very non-threatening. In fact, their current attempts to take in all of the downstairs commons at once made them look comical.

But the young man had come downstairs with a purpose; that much was clear from the look in his eyes. It was a deeply soulful look that barely fit with the goofy guy Cyn remembered watching television with the night before. They looked like the eyes of a man who had gazed into his own destiny and found that he was missing something vital, something he would not be complete without.

“I need eggs.” Warrick finally said to no one in particular, possibly the tentacles themselves.

Cyn snorted in spite of herself.

Laurel stifled her own laughter before speaking. “I’m going to head down to the Burger Builders down the street in a little bit to get everyone breakfast. Why don’t you come over here and talk with us?”

Warrick shrugged and headed over to sit next to Cyn. “Is this about us staying here while you guys deal with all of this stuff with the Academy?”

“Not anymore.” Laurel said, “Apparently all of you reached that conclusion on your own, so there’s not a lot of point to repeating myself.”

“As long as I get to let my family know I’m okay.” Warrick shrugged. “I can’t image what my sister must have gone through – Christmas without her big brother and all.”

“I’ll see what we can do.” Laurel said, trying to keep the conversation upbeat. “In the meantime… those are new.” She pointed to the tentacles. The one around Warrick’s left arm turned toward her as if it was being questioned.

“He made them last night.” Cyn said. “I think they’re alive.”

Warrick gave another shrug. “I’ve had them pretty much since my first started using my powers. I figure we got separated when they jammed my in that coffin thing.” He idly teased the tentacle around his left arm by waving his finger in front of it.

“So are they alive?” Ian asked. “They act like it.”

“No idea.” Warrick said. “My advisor at the Academy said they worked off my subconscious or something.”

“Your powers are weird.” Cyn smirked. “Not that I’m one to talk.”

It was Ian’s turn to laugh. “Don’t worry too much about. Except for Laurel, I don’t think any of us have your garden variety ‘super powers’.” He shrugged. “I still don’t understand Alexis’s. She can turn invisible, she flies, and whenever she does she turns into a shadow… I don’t know.”

“Even I don’t want to get into the whole ‘black heat’ thing.” Laurel said.

She started typing furiously and for the next few moments, the only sounds were of keys clacking. “And that does it for the mattresses I’ve also ordered the medical equipment we need for Kareem. So, since we’re all going to be living here; is there anything special you all want for your rooms?”

“I don’t have any money…” Warrick started.

“Money’s not going to be a problem.” Laurel grinned. “I’ve already listed the basics; televisions, computers, flat format players, a couple of my favorite games so we can LAN…”

“Ain’t that a little much to be spending on kids you don’t even know?” Warrick asked, immediately earning himself an elbow in the ribs courtesy of Cyn.

Cyn glared at him for a minute. “Actually, he does have a good point, aside from looking a gift horse in the mouth; how can you afford to blow thousands of dollars just to keep us occupied?”

“Ever hear of Brant Industries?” Ian asked, giving Warrick a sympathetic look.

“A little, I guess.” The white haired girl said. “They make armor and tanks and stuff. Nothing that has anything to do with us.”

“Well they have a lot to do with you now.” Laurel gave her a warm smile as she continued typing. “This place – Freeland House – is sort of a gift to all of us from my father. He also set up some dummy accounts I can draw funds from.”

“That’s really generous of him.” Warrick said. “Generous of both of you, really.”

“That’s just how they are.” Ian said. “Laurel takes after her dad and they both take good care of the people they care about.” He stretched out on his couch. “She’s a good role model for the rest of us.”

“Notice how I’m not putting my shoes up on the couch.” Laurel chided.

Ian chuckled and sat back up. “See what I mean?”

Back on the sun porch, the sun had tried valiantly to pierce through the layers of grime and mildew on the windows and had failed spectacularly. Only the thinnest slivers of light illuminated the room.

From the astral side, Kareem barely noticed. What he did notice was that Melissa was trying to pretend to be asleep while Alexis tended to Kareem’s physical body. He could have told her that he was fine; or at least as fine as he could be. His only concern was how long his body could survive without food.

Melissa worried him though. He couldn’t bear the feelings of apprehension and outright fear he received from her whenever Alexis glanced in her direction.

Why are you so afraid of speaking with her? He asked the redhead. Was she not your friend?

This time, she gave much less of a start at his sudden presence in her mind. She used to be. She replied, but that was a long time ago in her mind.

You cannot go on like this. Kareem said; you know as well as I that living here will not be a temporary arrangement. Avoiding her will be impossible. Is it not better that you speak to her on your own terms?

I will, Melissa gave a mental nod, just not now, okay? Kareem gave a nod of his own.

Across the room, Alexis had satisfied herself that Kareem was in no danger and looked across the room at Melissa. She was the only other person in the room, aside from the comatose young man.

She wanted to go and comfort her; to try and explain everything that had happened; almost as much as she wanted to quietly slip from the room without waking her so as to avoid the entire thing.

Miss Keyes? It is me, Kareem. A voice said in her head. Kareem had previously spoken to her just after she had pulled him from the stasis cell, so her reaction was much less severe than Melissa’s.

Yes, Kareem? Do you need something? Alexis asked, owing the ease of doing so to her previous work with young telepaths at the Academy.

I could not help but overhear your thoughts about Melissa. I think it is best that you not speak with her just yet. She is still very upset and confused right now.

Alexis nodded, both mentally and physically. I think I’ll take your word for it. Thanks for looking out for her.

It is my pleasure, Miss Keyes. I am aware of your previous relationship with Melissa and do not wish to see your bond with your roommate broken in this way.

You’re a really sweet boy, Kareem. You’re going to be a real lady killer once you wake up from that coma, aren’t you?

I do not put much hope in that, Miss Keyes, but thank you.

Hey, Alexis thought, you need to be more optimistic here. If I know Laurel, she’s already working on something to help you.

I would be most appreciative. Kareem said.

With a final salutation, Alexis left the room, leaving Kareem to muse to himself on the astral plane. The echoes of feelings left in Freeland House on the astral side could not be denied. Something about the place attracted good people and the new residents of Freeland House; the gifted descendants of a time long past were no exception.

End Issue #0