“Right this way, sir.” A technician clad in a white jumpsuit said, gesturing toward a secure access point; an open, thick walled alcove connecting the outer room to the building proper. The man he was speaking to was in his late forties with close cut, dirty blonde hair, wearing a plain white button up shirt beneath an unassuming brown suit coat with matching slacks.

The older man nodded and stepped into the cubical, careful to avoid passing over the red line painted on the floor. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel the subtle heat of the lasers poised to painfully dispatch any who attempted to pass the security checkpoint without undergoing the proper scans.

A panel slid open to his left, revealing a hollow in the wall. “Please deposit all electronic devices, firearms, or magnetic materials in the provided area.” A digitized female voice said calmly. The man reached into his jacket pocket in produced a cell phone which he placed in the receptacle. Next, he reached into the shoulder holster and added a .22 caliber pistol. “Thank you.” The voice said after a pause. The panel slid closed and the sound of machinery moving could be heard behind the wall. “Beginning security screening.”

Two flat plates slid out of the wall about three feet off the ground. They each had a vague pattern of a hand pressed into them. “Place hands on provided sensors to begin security scan.” The man complied. The plates felt warm and soon a warm sensation washed over his entire body as the invisible scanning beams roamed over him.

“Psionic Training and Application Academy personnel confirmed,” The voice said, “Enforcer agent rank one identified. Welcome to Deep Eleven, Jonathan Edward Tyler, codename: Prometheus.” The lasers flashed blue briefly, indicating that they were temporarily inactive. Edward Tyler stepped forward into a small square room and waited patiently for the door on the other side to slide open.

When it did, he found himself at the T intersection of a wide, white tiled hallway. Several people moved with purpose up and down the corridors. His weapon and cell phone were resting in a depression in the wall beside the door. He scooped both up and started to return his .22 to its shoulder holster.

“I have no idea why you bother carrying that thing.” Edward looked up to see a man in his late twenties, wearing an expensive looking suit sauntering in his direction.

“Not everyone we run into deserves third degree burns, Wolf.” Edward said tersely. “Or to be mauled, might I add.”

“These days I’m not so sure of that.” Trent Kinsey, codename: Wolf, shook his head.

“Recent mission get your back up?” Edward asked little emotion in his voice. He started down the corridor on his left and motioned for the younger man to fall into step.

“All of them, actually.” Trent grimaced. “You’d think rank one would earn me something better than babysitting these penny ante MGS-class criminals. The last bust I had was a girl with freaking acid spit! I mean what the hell? Who has acid spit?”

“Who turns into a lupine nightmare?” Edward shot back. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Wolf; it’s the powers you don’t respect that’ll kill you.” He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you weren’t calling me ‘sir’ enough… did you say you were rank one now?”

“As of two months ago… sir.” Trent added hastily. “A bunch of lowbies got elevated at about the same time.”

“Like who?” Edward asked tersely.

“Shine, War-torn, Launch…” Trent started.

“All people I withheld recommendations on, I notice.” Edward said. They passed by a glass paneled wall, over looking the Enforcers’ gym. He noticed a woman with white skin and overly large eyes sparring with a lumbering brick of a man in one of the boxing rings. “Including you, Wolf.”

“Well, you’ve been suspended—“

“On leave.” Edward corrected gruffly.

“On leave for months, sir. We’ve improved since then.”

“I bet.” Edward said. He stopped in the middle of the hall and grabbed Trent’s arm, raising the sleeve of his suit. There was a steel bracelet encircling the younger man’s wrist with some sort of blue liquid cycling through the clear plastic windows cut into it. Grunting, Edward pulled back Trent’s collar to reveal a similar gorget around his neck. “God damn it. Wolf, you still don’t even have control over it yet, do you?”

“I’m fine as long as the inhibiters are working.” Trent replied, rolling his sleeve back down with a petulant look.

“And what happens if some rogue gets in a fight with you and breaks one of the inhibiters? Do you want to go berserk like you were when we found you?” Edward’s eyes flashed with anger and frustration. “I signed off on you becoming part of the Enforcer program because I thought you’d be able to learn control and use it, not so you could find a high tech crutch.”

“Says the man with the PTAA issued powered armor. How much does it multiply your strength by, sir? A factor of ten?” Trent said angrily. “I manage to tear up the bad guys just fine on my own.”

Edward’s teeth ground. “The purpose of the Enforcers isn’t the ‘tear up’ anyone. You know that. You’re better than that. The Enforcers are here to keep the peace between psionics and normals. We stop rogues and put them in prison where they belong. End of story. I’m surprised Masters hasn’t pounded that into you by now.”

“She’s not my handler anymore, sir.” Trent said, adding a bit of bitter sarcasm to the ‘sir’. “She left around the time you got suspended.” He turned and started down another corridor. “You have an appointment. Don’t let me keep you.” Before he turned the corner, he glanced back at his former mentor. “Maybe they did things your way twenty years ago, but there’s more psionics than ever and that means more rogues. We need to take the kid gloves off before we’re outnumbered.”

Glaring after the younger man, Edward pulled a pack if cigarettes from his jacket. “As usual, someone has to ask; who watches the watchers?”

Water ran in sheets down the windows, distorting the view of the street outside the café Ian and Alexis had come to seeking refuge from the weather.

“Thanks for helping me do the grocery shopping.” Alexis said, taking a long pull on her café au lait.

Ian shrugged and smiled nervously. “I wasn’t doing anything else important with my day and I figured it’d be nice to spend—“

“Oh my god…” Alexis said. Her eyes were fixed on the stack of complementary newspapers. In particular, her eye had caught the front page of a three day old Scribe bearing the headline ‘Who Is Void-storm?’ with the subheader ‘Does Mayfield’s Newest Prelate Have Ties To Life Savers, Inc?’

She snatched the paper out of the basket it was resting in and began to read.

“Well, you couldn’t expect that not to make the news.” Ian said.

“You’re right.” Alexis said, “though it would have been nice if they’d chosen a name that wasn’t so outright terrible.”

“Until Void-storm says differently, she’s stuck with it, I guess.” Ian said with a smile. “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, I suppose. Otherwise, one could wind up with a name like ‘Wind Tunnel’ or something.”

Alexis smirked at that. “So who are these Life Savers, Inc people the article talks about? I never heard of Mayfield having prelates before, but the way this reporter, Northbrooke, talks about them; they’re the saviors of the city or something.”

Ian swallowed. The kids trusted him with their secret and Alexis would definitely quash their attempts at heroics if she found out. On the other hand, it didn’t seem right to lie to Alexis, especially so soon after encouraging her to consider rethinking the idea of everyone at Freeland House being her responsibility. Better to stall the inevitable just a bit longer.

“You know, I wonder how they came to call people like that ‘prelates’ in the first place. Seems a little pretentious for people that get down and dirty fighting the good fight.” He shrugged. “I mean not all of them are psionics, but still…”

“I think the media started using the word because fifteen years ago, the Trademark Reform Act wasn’t around and they were scared to use ‘superhero’” Alexis said, not noticing his blatant dodge. “I wonder… You know, Laurel said that prelates have a lot of pull with the public these days, if we could find a way to talk to them and explain what we know…”

Inwardly, Ian laughed at the irony, but managed to keep a straight face.

“Excuse me.” A young waiter said, approaching with two tall cups with to go lids on them. “I have a hazelnut/caramel steamed milk for you, sir. And a café au lait with a double shot of espresso for you ma’am. To go.”

“Uh, we didn’t order these.” Ian said, ignoring the tantalizing scent of his favorite hot drink in favor of sipping the one he’d already ordered.

“And we weren’t leaving either.” Alexis added.

The young man pursed his lips nervously. “Oh, I know you didn’t. The man at the counter did. He paid for them and said that you’ll be wanting to leave as soon as possible. He said to tell you ‘he knows about your education problem’?” He indicated a grey haired man in his late fifties or early sixties sitting at the counter. When he had their attention, he nodded to them.

Ian and Alexis shared a glance.

“I don’t suppose you got his name.” Alex said rather than asked. The youth shook his head.

“If he wants us to leave, I think that gives me all the more reason to stay here.” Ian frowned. “Do you have any of those swirly cinnamon things with the white frosting? I’ll have one of those.” He said to the waiter who nodded and moved on.

The man at the counter noted this and chuckled quietly into his own cup of black coffee. After a few moments of tense scrutiny from the two psionics, he slid off his chair and retrieved a cane tipped with a bronze eagle’s head from beside it. Hobbling a bit on the cane, he walked toward their table.

Ian tensed. A light, almost indiscernible breeze moved in the café.

The stranger took a seat from an empty table and sat himself between Ian and Alexis facing the window. His face was serious, but nothing in his expression indicated malevolence. “Hear me out before you try to blind side me, Mr. Smythe.” He said with a gruff voice. He kept his voice down to avoid being overheard by the other customers. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

“We’ll be the judges of that.” Alexis frowned. “Let’s start with who you are and what you want.”

“My name’s Lewis Pratt. General Lewis Pratt.” The man gave a slight smile of satisfaction as surprise crept into the psionics’ faces. “As for what I want, we should probably discuss that in private. Just understand that I’m here to offer help, not to harm you or hinder what you’re doing in any way.”

“Wouldn’t a phone call be more apropos for a government official instead of this B spy movie cliché?” Ian folded his arms, not convinced.

“There’s plenty of reasons why that and an official visit were out of the question.” Pratt answered. “First of all, we didn’t want to expose your location. You aren’t alone in the ranks of the people that want you and your charges to stay safe and free.” He looked around the shop. “Second, while this charade is more demeaning to me than it is to you; meeting in a public place guaranteed you wouldn’t respond to a perceived threat to your group with violence… if you were disposed to that sort of thing.”

Ian realized he had been gathering tightly compressed air in his palm and slowly released it. “No one said we were disposed to that.” He said coolly.

“Good, because we don’t have accurate enough records of you to make a proper profile thanks to Ms. Brant.” Pratt said. “Luckily, we also enjoy the services of a genius of that caliber or we never would have found you.”

“Which brings us back to that;” Alexis said, “If you aren’t here to fight, why did you go to all the trouble of tracking us down?”

“Like I said, Ms. Keyes, I’m here to offer some help – and to tell you that you aren’t alone. If we’re done with the third degree, I have a car waiting to take you to my office. Once we’re there, we can get down to brass tacks.”

Still fuming from his confrontation with his former protégé, Edward took his foul mood out on the familiar door of his handler’s office. With a grunt, he slammed it open and stormed in. While all offices were kept to PTAA standards of cleanliness and organization to the point of uniformity, his well trained sense of observation immediately told him something was wrong.

There was writing on the wall calendar, something the previous occupant never did. The wastepaper basket was nearly full, something the previous occupant would not have tolerated. Most obviously; the soft beanbag cat that sat on top of the pencil sharpener was MIA.

Edward settled his eyes on the small, bespectacled man occupying the seat at the desk. “Where’s Masters?” he inquired after his handler, Patricia Masters before the man could even react to his sudden entrance.

The little man flinched, eyes darting around the room nervously. “She left the organization shortly after you were put on leave.” He said as if he’d been practicing the line for several hours, which he undoubtedly had. “I’m your new handler, Roger Stevens.” He stood and extended his hand.

Edward ignored him and took a seat in the single chair across from the handler’s desk. “She leave any reason why?”

“She disagreed with the new recruitment criterion.” Stevens slowly drew his hand back when it became evident that Edward wouldn’t be shaking it.

“I disagree with it too.” Edward said, taking out a cigarette. He summoned a tiny flame directly into the end of the smokable and it lit instantly. “I also disagree with the new promotion standards if you people are letting Wolf do missions without a senior agent while he still needs his inhibitors.”

“I’m not in charge of the… new rank one agents.” Stevens stumbled over his words.

“Then who is? Masters used to be around to keep them from getting big heads about their promotion. Guess that’s changed too?”

“They’re under a new handler. A man named Wright, I believe.” Stevens said. “Er, if you don’t mind, there are some things we need to go over before you get reactivated…”

“’Go over’ like we need to go over what the hell went on here at Langley that night?” Edward glared at the smaller man as he put the cigarette in his mouth.

“We were actually hoping you could actually help put some more of the pieces together…”

“Everything I did and saw being done is in my report.” Edward said. “I want to know who those kids were – one of them looked in way too bad shape to be a rogue before the fight even started. And what exactly were they doing at the hospital complex?”

“That’s classified, need to know, Jon.” Stevens said with yet more practiced phrasing.

“Edward.” The Enforcer said, “My father’s Jon.” He leaned forward in his seat, causing Stevens to lean backward in his own. “And Edward really does need to know.”

Stevens furrowed his brow, and then sighed. “If you must know, they were here to free the kids.” He said. Edward heard more practice in this speech than in all the rest. “But those kids aren’t your regular kids. They’re red listed threats. The things they’re accused of doing were stricken from all public record. They’re dangerous, Edward. And the longer they’re free, the longer we risk having this thing go totally New Delhi on us.”

-- • --

The mere mention of New Delhi made Edward’s back straighten. It was one of those stories everyone in the world knew but bore repeating again and again. It had special meaning to the Enforcers because what had happened between the fifth and seventh of June in 2047 directly led to their organization’s existence.

At the time, the global public was only vaguely aware of psionics. The only things they heard were blurbs about strange news relegated to the D section of national newspapers; A girl who could climb vertical inclines without aide in Luxemburg, a man whose nails were hard enough to cut glass in Greece, a college student who knew languages simply by hearing them spoken in Egypt. They were written off as freaks even as dozens of them hid their powers out of confusion or paranoia every day.

But on June 5th, 2047, a young man in India by the name of Arjun Ravi decided that he wouldn’t be ignored. Over the course of seventy two hours, he used the telekinetic gift he had been born with to kill over seven hundred people in broad daylight. He was only stopped when he grew too weary from lack of sleep to deflect the bullets police fired at him.

Ravi died, but the damage had been done. The world had watched the bulk of his monstrous rampage on live television; and they were afraid. Revelation of his psionic powers brought attention to those who had long been written off as freaks of nature. Now, every one of them was a potential living weapon.

Public hysteria threatened to turn violent and every government in the world was forced to deal with the ‘psionic problem’ in their own way. In the United States, psionics were deemed to be too value a resource to allow hatred and violence to destroy. The Enforcer Corps was created to police psionics who threatened the public with their powers and programs were put in place to encourage the citizenry to see psionics as productive and valuable members of society.

To some extent, it worked. Psionics, at least those with useful powers, were more accepted in the United States and nations that followed its lead than any other nation in the world, save Columbia, which attempted to eradicate its own psionics and wound up being conquered and governed by them instead. However, everyone in the Enforcer Corps knew that all it would take to turn the fickle public against them would be for another Arjun Ravi to emerge and inflict another atrocity such as that which happened in New Delhi.

The horrors that conjured were enough to end Edward’s side of the conversation. He’d nodded his way through the rest of the meeting as Stevens explained that Prometheus was being reactivated as an agent. He’d even held his tongue when Stevens related to him that the Director had left strict orders for the Enforcers not to get involved with the Keyes case. Apparently, a government agency was being given the assignment.

But Jonathan Edward Tyler wasn’t a man to take things at face value. By the time the Enforcer Corps was formed, he had been a police detective in the Washington, DC for seven years. Twenty more years in the Corps had only served to make his instincts sharper.

If he couldn’t trust his own agency to tell him the truth, he surmised, he would have to communicate with the one person he had known he could always count on; his former handler, Patricia Masters. As he got into his car out front of the Academy campus in Langley, he wondered what the real reason was for her resignation.

Ian looked down as the shipyards of Norfolk, Virginia swept past beneath him. He found himself and Alexis sharing the broad, rear facing seat of the GMC Raptor ground/air vehicle General Pratt had led them too outside the café. Pratt sat across from them, watching out the window as he was.

A hand found his own and squeezed. He looked over to Alexis who smiled at him. “You’re letting this get to you.” She whispered even though it was impossible for Pratt not to notice. “Tensing up isn’t going to help us, no matter what’s really going on.”

She was right and Ian knew it. He gave her a squeeze back and tried to make himself comfortable in the seat. As he did, he marveled at how quickly their roles had been reversed the moment real danger presented itself.

After a few minutes, the flying transport slowed and began a vertical descent toward the rooftop of a nondescript building a few blocks from the waterfront.

Pratt seemed to notice them for the first time since they had boarded the Raptor. “Home sweet home.” He said, pointing at the building. “Rogue Operations Counterintelligence Command; the ROCIC for short.”

“Rogue operations?” Alexis asked, watching out the window as a section of the tar and gravel roof opened, revealing a hidden landing pad a story below the actual roof.

“You didn’t think the government approved of what’s been done to your young people, did you?” Pratt asked. “Granted, all of our involvement with so called psionics has been less than wholly altruistic, but don’t you think holding children in stasis is a bit too clandestine even for the ‘evil government’ the movies portray?”

“I never thought about it.” Alexis admitted. “The Academy gets a lot funding for the government.”

“To train powerful young people to be productive citizens.” Pratt noted. “But the Academy is just a private sector branch—“

“For Project Tome.” Ian interjected.

Pratt smiled as the craft set down. “My, you really do know a lot all ready. You’re probably only one of a few hundred that know about Tome outside the government.”

“We got the name out of a facility that was experimenting on kids.” Ian snapped. “Trepanning them. You want to explain that?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Pratt said, opening the side door and stepping out. Ian and Alexis followed. They found themselves in a garage type room with two other Raptors and a pair of armored aerial troop transports akin to those used by SWAT teams in larger cities.

“Why can’t you? Because it’s ‘classified’?” Ian demanded, his voice echoing in the nearly empty space. “Because classified doesn’t cut it when people’s lives are on the line – when children are being tortured.”

“I can’t tell you because we don’t know.” Pratt said firmly. “I didn’t make contact with you two just so I can blow smoke up your asses and give you the business for the hell of it, Smythe. We’re here to exchange intelligence to protect the teenagers you two and Ms. Laurel Brant saved. But I can’t give you data I don’t have. Project Tome isn’t considered a rogue operation for nothing.”

“You keep saying it’s a rogue operation.” Alexis said, giving Ian a look that shut his mouth. “But you haven’t told us what that means. Project Tome has something to do with the government?”

“It did.” Pratt said, quashing down his temper. “In some ways, it still is if you consider that the Academy is still inextricably tied to both. But Tome hasn’t been officially sanctioned by the government in better than half a century.” He led them to an elevator and selected the fifteenth floor.

“Then how is it still operating?” Alexis asked.

“Private sponsors.” Pratt answered. “Someone had faith that Tome’s work would bear fruit even before the first psionics manifested their powers.”

“You make it sound like Tome had something to do with us.” Ian said. The elevator stopped and Pratt led them down a hallway and into an empty conference room. “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”

Pratt took a seat and the two psionics did the same. “I had someone far more knowledgeable on the subject scheduled to tell you, but they seem to be running late.” He frowned at the empty seats. “I’ll tell you what I know, then she’ll fill in the gaps when she arrives.”

“That’ll’ be fine.” Alexis nodded.

The general leaned back in his chair, looking very much like a grandfather about to tell his grandchildren a story. “I’m sure you both know the urban legend of why psionics got their powers.”

“Something about failed super soldiers in World War II.” Ian shrugged. “That’s the popular one. I prefer the alien abduction version, personally.”

“Well, the super soldier theory is the correct one.” Pratt said. “If we did genetic backgrounds on either of you, we’d be able to race your ancestry all the way back to one or more of several dozen experiments conducted here, in Europe, Australia, or Japan in the mid to late forties or in those locations plus China and the Middle East in the fifties. At the time, genetics was the hot new science and everyone thought it could be used to make a super man that would lead to world domination.”

“Glad to know we beat out nukes.” Ian rolled his eyes.

“Well, you didn’t. Officially, every experiment failed. One by one, the projects ended.”

“Wait, ‘officially’, they failed?” Alexis cocked her head inquisitively. “What happened in reality?”

“In reality, there were a few minor, but non-replicable successes. Some people gained minor psychic powers, a few developed overt physical traits. But none of them were the magic bullet to defeat all enemies, so the projects were still deemed failures and abandoned.” Pratt took a deep breath, more from need for breath than for dramatic purposes.

“Except not everyone thought of that as a failure.” He continued. “The United States started Project Tome to consolidate the data from all other projects; figure out what worked and what didn’t and continue animal research in secret.”

“Nothing says ‘universal soldier’ like guinea pigs shooting lasers out of their asses.” Ian said. “So Tome had all the ingredients for psionics – why didn’t they make more?”

“Because they didn’t.” Pratt replied. “most of the experiments were expecting immediate results from what amounted to altering and damaging DNA. But mutations don’t generally cause instant changes in people.”

“They manifest themselves in the offspring.” Alexis said, quoting one of the text books she had used as a teacher.

“Exactly. They provided the means for mutation after generations.” Pratt said. “All of Tome’s experiments were similarly flawed and the test animals destroyed before they could get results. Eventually, they were cut off from government funding.”

“But the shady sponsors kept them going.” Ian said, “Right up until…”

“Until descendants began to appear.”

“You mean ‘psionics’, right?”

“Do you call all artists ‘sculptors’?” Pratt pointed out. “Psionics is a name the media gave you. It only really refers to mental abilities; telepathy, precognition, hyper-cognition—no, the official name we have for those who have inherited powers from the WWII era experiments is descendants. I think it better describes you as a people; the descendants of those original subjects.”

“It does.” Alexis said thoughtfully. “But what about Tome? If they were all about creating… us… then shouldn’t they be defunct now?”

“One would hope.” Pratt said, “But their efforts in capturing and experimenting on descendants points to an expanded agenda we can’t guess at yet.” He leaned forward. “That’s part of why we wanted to talk with you two. It’s possible that you’ve learned more than we’ve been able to since you’ve actually had contact with their victims. You mentioned trepanning – that’s something we never heard about.”

“It was on a recording device we found in Quinn Bluffs, Florida.” Alexis said. “We can send you a copy.”

“We’d be most appreciative if you do.” Pratt said.

“So we’re trusting this guy enough to exchange email now?” Ian asked.

“If he was from the Academy, we’d be in stasis right now – or worse.” Alexis said. “He was able to track us to a random café we went into to get out of the rain – he obviously knows where we live and hasn’t capitalized on it.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “So yeah, we’ll trust him. Any port in a storm and all that.”

“I appreciate that someone here is being an adult about this whole proceeding.” Pratt said. “And the ROCIC appreciates any information that you can provide to aid us in pinning down the whereabouts and the plans of Project Tome.” He frowned for a moment. “You said you found this evidence in Quinn Bluffs?”

“The Academy Science Center.” Alexis provided. “along with a surgery robot and evidence of a struggle.” She left the Kin out of the discussion. Her trust in Pratt and his organization only went so far.

“We honestly hadn’t guessed Tome’s involvement was so integrated into the Academy.” Pratt frowned. “That by itself changes a great deal of focus in our investigations.”

“If you didn’t know about Quinn Bluffs or the trepanning,” Ian began. “I guess it’s too much to hope that you know what the term ‘bio-mapping’ means?”

Pratt put a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. “I’ve heard the term before… I think it was in our archive of Tome’s animal trials around the turn of the century.”

“Could you send us that archive?” Alexis asked, “Since we’re exchanging information and all…”

“Of course.” Pratt said. “We’ll open our databases up to your Ms. Brant if she asks.”

“I have no doubt she’ll ask.” Alexis confirmed.

The door to the conference room opened and an Asian woman with rather severe features stood in the door frame. “I apologize for my tardiness, General, but I received a visitor whose input I believed to be very relevant to this meeting. He hasn’t been briefed, but he’s willing to share what he knows.”

“This day’s just full of good news.” Pratt said, “Show him in. Alexis Keyes, Ian Smythe, I’d like you to meet Patricia Masters, our…” He trailed off as the tension in the room suddenly increased exponentially.

Jonathan Edward Tyler had stepped into the room beside Masters. The instant he saw Ian and Alexis, he pushed the woman behind him protectively, his entire left arm becoming wreathed in flame.

Ian stood up so fast, he knocked over his chair. Strong wind roared around him as he gathered air up for a strike. “Prometheus.” He glared at the man who had nearly killed him five months prior.

-- • --

“I knew this was some kind of trap.” Ian snarled.

Alexis grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back. “This guy almost killed you last time, Ian.” She warned.

“That’s why I’m getting the first strike in.” Ian said, raising his hands. Twin vortexes were forming in his palms, air spiraling tightly inward.

“No one’s getting any first strikes in my damn building.” Pratt said. With speed the belied his age, he drew a long, heavy looking pistol from his jacket and leveled it at Prometheus. “Douse the flames, Tyler. These people are my guests and so help me if you scorch an inch of this room, I’ll kneecap you before you scorch the second.”

“These people are criminals.” Edward said haughtily as he shut down his powers. “They broke onto Academy property.”

Pratt ignored him, turning the weapon on Ian. “Power down, Smythe.” He ordered. “There’s not going to be any kind of brawl here.”

“Five minutes ago, we were the best of chums, sharing information.” Ian said, allowing the compressed air in his hands to dissipate. “Suddenly, I find myself under threat of a hot lead injection?”

“Ian…” Alexis said softly.

“Photosynthetic mass injection, actually.” Pratt said. “Think of it as the portable version of a laser. Advanced technology is one of the advantages for working black ops counterintelligence.” He returned the weapon to its holster. “Back to the matter at hand. Dr. Masters, I hope whatever Tyler has to say was worth that little outburst.”

“I won’t relate anything with those criminals around.” Edward said bluntly.

“We’re the criminals? You burn down my house, you help people who kidnap and experiment on kids – and I’m the criminal?!” Ian cried indignantly.

“You burned down his house?” the surprise and weariness was evident in Pratt’s tone.

“I followed Keyes to his residence in Seattle on intel that she’d broken black file protocols.” Edward explained. “When I demanded he turn her over, he tried to use his powers on me – so I responded in kind.”

“A destroyed home for an eye.” Ian chimed in.

“I wasn’t aiming to destroy the house. You’re the one who had welding equipment stored in your garage.”

“Mr. secret agent with a license to cauterize didn’t have time to read up on the fact that I work on powered armor – which necessarily involves metallurgy?”

“It isn’t my job to know your life story. You harbored a rogue psionic, then broke onto the Academy campus and removed red listed threats from containment.” Edward rumbled.

“Hold on a minute!” Alexis added her voice. “Haven’t you been listening to us? Those kids weren’t red listed whatevers and I’m no rogue. We were saving those kids from experimentation. Regardless of what you’ve been told, we’re not the bad guys here.”

“Do you have any proof that they were actually red listed?” Masters spoke up. “Or is this just from your briefing today?”

“Do they have any proof they aren’t?” Edward countered. “I trust the Corps mission files more than I trust a couple of rogues. Stevens said he could provide psych profiles…”

“That’s bad logic, Edward and you know it.” Masters said. “First, you’re asking them to prove a negative. And what’s more, the only reason they’re rogue is because the Corps said they were. The same Corps whose integrity is in question right now – even by you if I understand what you’ve told me thus far.”

Edward made an angry, non-committal sound as Masters steered him toward a chair near General Pratt.

“I believe we can safely discount the psych profiles as false anyway.” Pratt said. “Their conduct since regaining their freedom has been unquestioningly positive.”

“Arjun Ravi was ‘positive’ up until the moment he started his killing spree.” Edward snapped.

“Hey!” this time it was Alexis who stood up. “Don’t you ever accuse our kids of anything like that! They’re good kids.”

“I agree.” Pratt said, “And their impact on Mayfield is ample evidence of that.”

“Excuse me?” Alexis blinked. Ian felt a sickness rise in his stomach.

“Life Savers, Inc.” The General said. “Since they’ve taken a hand in assisting rescue operations in the city, accidental deaths there have dropped four percent. I… assumed this was due to your influence…” Ian stifled a groan as pride and shame warred inside him.

Alexis shook her head. “I’m sorry, General, as nice a fantasy as that is, I’ve told them not to use their powers in public. It’s too dangerous for their powers to be discovered by the Academy.”

“I knew it.” Edward rumbled. “So much for your proof, General.”

“Strange.” Pratt said, ignoring Edward’s drollery. “These prelates appeared in Mayfield only a month after your incident with Tyler in Langley. We were prepared to alter the news stories about them in the national media, but someone beat us to it—we assumed it was Ms. Brant.”

“I-it can’t be.” Alexis said with a stressed chuckle. “Sure, Warrick is really into the prelate thing, but so is every psi… descendant his age…”

“It’s funny you should mention young Mr. Kaine.” Masters said. “The prelate, Alloy, a member of this group is also a metal controller and also exhibits Kaine’s unique tendril manifestation.”

“Uh… just how unique is it?” Ian asked, avoiding looking directly at Alexis.

“There are twelve known metal controllers of various levels of ability.” Masters said as if this fact was common knowledge. “Warrick Kaine is the only one with that manifestation. In fact, he is only one of twenty known descendants in the history of the chronicling of descendant powers that has a manifestation that can operate independent of his mind.”

“Huh.” Ian breathed. He suddenly sensed Alexis staring at him and shivered.

“So as you can see,” Masters continued, oblivious to the non-verbal communication between the two old friends. “there is very little chance that Alloy is anyone other than Warrick Kaine.”

“Even if they are playing prelate, that certainly doesn’t prove they’re anything remotely like well adjusted.” Edward said. “Being sanctioned to keep the peace is one thing. Taking things into one’s own hands…”

“I’ve heard just about enough.” Ian said flatly. He glanced over at Alexis and gave her an apologetic look. “Those kids decided on their own to spend their own time and risk injury helping people – and you’re calling that maladjusted? You’d think someone who is so concerned about who is and isn’t a black hat like you could appreciate what they’re doing. I’m only sorry I haven’t done the same with my life.”

When he finished, the room had fallen silent save for his own heavy breathing. Then the wave of shame that had been building up finally broke free, finding no resistance now that his pride and indignation had been addressed. “A-Alexis… I’m sorry that—“

“You knew all this time.” She cut him off, her voice heavy. “You knew they were doing this all this time and you hid it from me.”

“Because you would have put a stop to it.” Ian defended himself before he could think better of it. “They’ve… they’ve been doing such a good job—you heard the General; accidental deaths are down four percent – that’s a lot of lives in a city the size of Mayfield.”

“Damn right, I would have put a stop to it!” Alexis found she was having trouble controlling the volume of her voice. “Ian, we have the Academy… people like him,” She pointed at Edward who gave her a less than grateful look. “hunting us down with the express purpose of putting them back in stasis until their body falls apart like Kareem’s or until they decide to cut on them like Juniper. We can’t afford to have them using their powers in public like that!”

Ian shook his head. “Unless we do something, we’ll always be hiding. We need to either fight back or at least try and lead normal lives.”

“You call playing hero for a day a normal life? That’s not a life anyone chooses.”

“Maybe some of us wish we had chosen it.” Ian hunched his shoulders. “Maybe then I would have had enough experience and skill to not get beaten to a pulp by the firebug over there.”

“You know, I’ve had it up to here with you two taking shots at me in your little lover’s spat.” Edward fumed.

“Stay out of this, matchstick.” Ian snapped.

“No, he can take my place.” Alexis said, rising from her seat. “And this time when he KO’s you, don’t expect me to save you.” She turned to Pratt, fire in her eyes. “General, I’ll show myself out and make my own way back home. I’ll let Laurel know you want to trade information – to help keep the kids safe.” she said the last part more to Ian than to the General. With that, she stormed out of the conference room.

“Wait, Alexis…” Ian stood up and started to follow her out. Edward intercepted him and blocked his way out. “Out of the way, hothead. You do not want to screw with me right now.”

Edward narrowed his eyes. “Look, you don’t like me and the feeling is more than mutual. In fact, I’d really like nothing more than to see you fail some more today. But the woman seems like she’s halfway decent – way too good for you I might add – and I really don’t want to see you piss her off anymore.”

“You don’t know us.” Ian said, resisting the urge to use his powers to clear the obstruction from his path.

“But I am old enough to know a few things. And the first rule is to let her cool off before you try and talk to her again. She just implied she’d be okay with me to hurting you –badly. No matter what you say, she’s not going to want to hear it right now.”

“He’s right, you know.” Masters said. “She seems to be taking her responsibility to the children very seriously. Even if you think you were doing the right thing, you threatened that.”

Ian felt himself slump. “And how exactly do I fix it?”

“I would venture that completing the briefing that may give some aid in her goal of protecting the children would be a start.” Masters reasoned. “Please, sit down. There is still a great deal that we can tell you that can help you and your charges.”

“Like what?” Ian sighed, defeated.

“For starters,” Masters said, “Edward was just telling me that there has been a changing of the guard in the Enforcer Corps. Young agents, lacking in the self control and ethics of most of the older rank and file are being promoted ahead of more… stable candidates. I think this may be the influence of Project Tome in response to your – and others’ actions in removing descendants from their custody in the past few months.”

Ian blinked. He really wanted to try and catch up with Alexis, but Masters was right, he needed to hear this. If the Academy was massing a new generation of more brutal Enforcers, it was far more important than making himself look like less of a clod. “Alright.” He said, collapsing back in his seat, “I’m listening.”

It was gone past eight at night when the door to Laurel’s workshop opened.

“Laurel, have you seen…” Ian began.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.” Laurel said softy. “Doesn’t want to talk to me, either.”

With a heavy sigh, Ian closed the door and took a seat. “You too?”

“She got back two hours ago with the groceries – apparently she flew all the way back to Mayfield from Norfolk.” Laurel said, allowing a bit of her awe at her friends’ feat of stamina to spill over into her tone. “Anyway, she told me a little about your meeting with General Pratt and a lot about your fight. Then Cyn came into the kitchen and all hell broke loose…”

“That bad?”

“Worse. Cyn puts a lot more importance into being Facsimile than any of us really knew. She was understandably not happy and in her typical fashion, she didn’t mince words expressing it.” She leaned her head back tiredly, holding the bridge of her nose just below her glasses. “And at some point, Alexis realized that there’s only one person around that could have altered those Life Savers, Inc stories and… well the rest was just a lot of yelling and slamming doors.”

“I’m assuming that the entirety of the Future Prelates of America is grounded?” Ian groaned.

“Plus Melissa because she happened to be in the room.” Laurel said.

“I screwed up big time.” Ian sighed. “But I don’t even know where I screwed up; letting them do their thing and lying to Alexis, or getting my back up and letting the cat out of the bag.”

Laurel wheeled over to him. “I’m not blaming you for this. I had my hand in it too and I’m still personally certain that what they were up to was not only positive, but beneficial to the cause of getting them back where they belong.”

“How do you figure that part?” Ian inquired.

“I just put myself into the shoes of a clandestine organization trying to protect it’s own hide while recapturing the people that escaped.” The genius shrugged. “The first step is to demonize them – make the public as well as my minions want to get these kids put away as fast as possible. That’d be kind of hard to do if it turned out those kids were the modern version of the Peers of Charlemagne, no?”

“Actually, that’s exactly how this started. That spark headed Enforcer said the Academy had them listed as some kind of super-criminals and the General pointed out Life Savers, Inc as proof that they weren’t. Wait, does that mean we’re the ones in the right?”

Laurel gave him a sad look. “No, it doesn’t.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before standing to move over to her coffee maker. “My friend, the world is way too complicated for it to be that easy. We had the right idea and the best intentions at heart. But that doesn’t make us right – we still betrayed Alexis’s trust.”

“I know.” Ian lowered his head. “Grasping at straws is pretty much all I have left in my bag of tricks right now.” He shook his head. “Goddamn, things were going so well. We were really connecting… you know, that way… I think. And then Pratt shows up and…and…” He sat up sharply, bumping his head on the shelf behind him. “Does everything he can to help. Damn it, I can’t even get angry at him!”

“Taking blame; one of the fifty-elven dozen things that make growing up so not worth it.” Laurel said, coming back over with two cups of coffee. “Speaking of which, I only heard the part of this meeting that happened before the falling out. Let’s hear the rest – at least it’ll take your mind off it.”

Ian ran his hands through his hair before accepting an offered cup of coffee. “Sure, but it’ll only raise more questions.”

“More questions will also help keep our minds off things.”

-- • --

“Let’s see…” Ian said, staring at his reflection in the coffee. “Where to begin? Well, Prometheus was there because there’s stuff going on with the Enforcers that even he’s not comfortable with. They’re promoting new, untested recruits—all with discipline issues. Some of those, codenamed Shine, Manriki and Launch have been suspended in the past for excessive force.”

“Sounds like they’re setting up their own skull cracking team.” Laurel said. “I’ll see if I can get more info on them.”

Ian nodded. “If the guy that burned down my house and beat the shit out of me says they’re using excessive force, ‘skull cracking’ wouldn’t be the words I’d use. These guys sound like more of a scorched earth kind of outfit.”

“Anything else out of the Academy?” Laurel asked, steering Ian away from the sensitive subject of his defeat at the hands of Prometheus.

“They fired their lead psychologist and agent liaison; Patricia Masters. She works for the General now. According to her, she’d been cut out of the loop since about a month before Alexis found the memo.” He took a sip of coffee.

“Masters…” Laurel pondered aloud. “I know that name; she’s published a few books on psionic psychology. She’s a pioneer in power control techniques – especially weaning people off the crutch of gestures and mantras.”

“Well now she’s Pratt’s lead advisor when it comes to dealing with descendants.” Ian said.

“Descendants?”

“Us. The way Pratt put it, ‘psionic’ doesn’t properly address the variety of powers out there. Descendant at least describes our common origin.” Ian set the coffee aside and clasped his hands. “As it turns out, the World War II conspiracy theory you hated so much is true.”

Laurel blinked. “Seriously? I can’t imagine they had the techniques available at the time…”

“Well start imagining.” Ian said, managing a smile. “I was right, you were wrong. For the first time in the history of our friendship, I win.” He let that sink in as Laurel stifled a giggle. “What’s more, Project Tome started out as the government operation to figure out what data was still usable back in the day. They went underground and only resurfaced after descendants started showing up. Looks like having their work done for them by nature wasn’t enough for them.”

“And Tome, in part, controls the Academy.” Laurel said, “The perfect place to nab the new talent as it comes of age.”

“Exactly.” Ian said, “And from what Masters told me about the Academy’s records, that memo Alexis found was way off, but not in the way you might think.”

“So they’re not tinkering with twenty percent of the psionics that apply?” Laurel asked, using the obsolete term.

“No, Masters saw the real memo. It lists twenty percent as the total number of descendants who have manifested their powers.” He stopped there to allow Laurel to take that train of thought to its logical conclusion.

She took a sip of coffee and thought a moment. “Okay, according to the urban legend—which you now say is real history – it took four to five generations for the first psionics to start manifesting overt powers. That instantly means that it’s a genetic trait now, and that some people are carriers like the entirety of the first through third generations.”

She stood up and started pacing the room. “So it stands to reason that there are still carriers in our generation and the next—both Warrick and Cynthia have siblings that have yet to manifest a power, though Warrick’s sister is too young to rule a manifestation out yet. It also means…” She paused mid sentence and chuckled. “Now I see why both sides were trying to bring Patricia Masters aboard.”

“Huh?” Ian queried.

“Gestures and mantras.” Laurel said, returning to her seat. “Remember Jason Nesbit from school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with him. He was the one with that shockwave power, right?”

Laurel nodded. “But only when he clapped his hands over his head.” Ian stared blankly, not understanding the point she was making. “Think about it, Ian; clapping your hands over your head isn’t exactly something you do everyday, but it was the gesture he subconsciously connected to his power. What if someone had a more complicated gesture – or one they almost never do – or a mantra they never use? They’d have their powers, but they’d never know it because they can’t activate them.”

Ian smiled, finally understanding. “And Masters is the expert in teaching people not to need either of those things – so in theory, if you find someone who is a descendant, but doesn’t know how to activate their powers – however that’s done—Masters could teach them how to use it without their crutch.”

“Bingo.” Laurel said, “Though, come to think of it, that doesn’t sound like much of an advantage aside from only having to find bloodlines instead of waiting for manifestation… we’re missing something.”

“We’re not the only ones.” Ian said, “General Pratt didn’t even know about bio-mapping –but the word has come up on his radar. Apparently, we’re not the only ones who’ve taken kids out of the Academy’s little correspondence program.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, “why haven’t we heard about it?”

“Why hasn’t anyone heard about us?” Ian countered. “the general told me they know of at least two other break-ins at Academy facilities; both were a year ago and both not only featured an empty stasis cell, but stacks of erased hard drives with only filenames still accessible. ‘Bio-map Initiative’ was one of those filenames.”

“Does Pratt know who did the breaking in, or where the two kids are?”

Ian shook his head. “No dice, but he suspects a British private school called the Brunswick Boarding School for the Gifted has a hand in it.”

“Gifted… they’re not exactly covert.” Laurel noted.

“No need.” Ian said, “England’s got about a dozen private schools for descendants with government scholarships to the most… heh, talented. However, Brunswick is on Pratt’s radar because it’s run by a former MI-6 agent, Hugo Lansdale. He’s got a clean, upstanding record, but let’s face it, a secret agent running a super-school? It sounds fishy.”

Laurel nodded. “That it does. I’ll tell you what; I’ll put in some time doing some more digging into everything you told me about. You hit the hay—you look drained.”

“That’s an understatement.” Ian said. “combining cloak and dagger politics with emotional trauma isn’t the way to end what started out as an innocent day of shopping together.”

“I know, Ian. But I’ve got faith in you that you and Alexis will work things out and come out stronger for it. You’re dumb about relationship stuff, but so is she – it’s a wonder the two of you survived high school even with my help.”

“Well, I’d appreciate your help right now…” Ian said, standing.

“Sorry, but I’m in the doghouse too, kid.” Laurel gave him a warm smile. “Just think things over for a while. You’re a good guy, you’ll think of something.”

“Not feeling the good guy angle right now.” He shrugged.

“And that’s how I know you are.” Laurel said.

Cyn had excellent night vision. Unless others were in the room, she rarely turned on the lights in her room. Instead, she just adjusted her pupils and retinas until night became day. Anything less than total darkness was no hindrance to her and the many little LED’s on her various electronic equipment ensured her room was never in total darkness.

So she sat in what to anyone else was pitch black and rifled through the shoebox she stored all the newspaper articles pertaining to Life Savers, Inc. She was fairly sure she had a copy of every article the Scribe had ever printed about them; from the first instance in which they had saved the ConquesTech CEO, to the mundane ‘news in short’ entries about their aiding in searches and preventing accidents.

She found one dated four days prior, discussing ‘Void-storm’s’ possible connection to the prelate group. Grimacing, she lengthened her nails into claws and shredded the article with a bestial snarl. The woman behind Void-storm wasn’t a member of the team that saved Mayfield’s citizens time and again; she was the one trying to destroy them. If Alexis had her way that would be the last time the Scribe even mentioned them.

Stewing in her own anger, she barely heard the tapping at her window over the patter of the rain outside. Suspicious as to what could be tapping against her second story window, which as no where near any trees, she padded over to the closed and curtained window. Drawing a breath, she threw both curtain and window open at once, prepared for any threat that might come at her.

Warrick recoiled from the swiftness of the move, almost shaking Isp and Osp from where they’d anchored to the roof. The two tentacles were holding him upside down by his waist outside the window. A steady trickle of rain water ran off his hair.

A smirk replaced Cyn’s scowl. “What are you doing out there?” She asked, leaning on the wall as she held back laughter.

“The boys figured you’d like some company after... you know, what happened tonight. Uh, if you don’t, I can just go back to my room…”

“I guess I could use some company.” Cyn said. She stretched her claw-hand over to the light switch and flicked it on. “Come on in.”

The tentacles turned Warrick right side up and deposited him in the room before detaching from the roof and joining him. Osp closed the window and drew the curtains closed again.

“So… why were they holding you upside down?” Cyn inquired. She sat on the edge of her bed and gestured for Warrick to sit on the couch across from it.

“You know, I really have no idea.” Warrick shrugged. “Sometimes they do stuff and don’t explain it.”

“I guess they’ll have a lot fewer chances now the Herr Keyes has put her boot down on our community service project.” Cyn rolled her eyes.

“Come on Cyn...” Warrick started.

“Don’t be so hard on her? I will as soon as she’s not so hard on us.” Cyn ranted. “She says it’s to protect us from the Academy, but you know what? As bad as they were, the Academy never forced us to hide our powers. No other psionic in the world has to do that but us because Alexis is scared. Where’s the justice in that?” She flopped backward on the bed, finally pulling in her hyper-extended arm. “You know, she said before, she’s not our mom – so I’m wondering why we’re even paying lip service to what she’s telling us”

“You can’t be serious, Cyn.” Warrick said. “I may not like her decision, but she is the reason we’re not in those stasis cells right now. I say we should at least give her that much respect.” He was wary about directing Cyn’s anger toward himself, but it was a point that had to be made.

“Yeah, I’m thankful for her getting us out. But Ian and Laurel helped her get this out. They traveled cross-country with her and believed her even though she was a wanted rogue by the Academy’s standards. And she gets pissed at them for not agreeing with her about us using our powers? That’s just stupid!” She grabbed a handful of the newspaper clippings and threw them in the air. “And now these? These mean nothing! We did all we could, we helped all those people and the next time they need us, what’s going to happen? No one comes and helps them? They die?!” She was trembling now.

“Cyn…” Warrick stood almost as much as he was being pushed to his feet by the tentacles. “Look, don’t say I don’t understand, because this is the second time this has happened to me. I know how you feel.” He cleared a spot of thrown articles and sat down beside her.

Grinding her teeth against letting Alexis’s decree get to her, she looked over at him. “What do you mean, this is the second time?”

“Remember when I told you I tried being a prelate back in New York? Fighting the gangs and such? Well, that was a couple years ago – my name was Damascus – like the steel? Anyway, my idol, a prelate they call the Whitecoat found me out after a particularly big run in I had with them. Apparently, by getting the jump on those guys, I’d screwed up the Whitecoat’s investigation into the Hip Sing Tong – so he was pretty upset. So he took me home and told my parents what’d been going on. My parents are pretty cool with things, but no one likes hearing their kid is out getting shot on a nightly basis, no matter how well armored he is.”

“So they stopped you from being Damascus.” Cyn supplied. “How… how can you even forgive them for that? I mean, taking away something that’s so… that gives your life so much meaning…”

Warrick shrugged. “I knew that they really were doing what they thought was best for me. I wasn’t happy about it, but there wasn’t a lot I could do to convince them of how important it was. I mean, getting beat up by a prelate doesn’t really take a guy off the street.”

“You’re lucky your parents really did have your best interests.” Cyn said offhandedly.

“Ms. Keyes has our best interests at heart too.” Warrick pointed out. “She just doesn’t understand.”

“Well then I’ll find a way to make her understand.” Cyn said. “This is too important for me to just let go with a smile and say ‘oh, well she had my best interests are heart, so it’s okay if she screwed up my life’.”

“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Warrick offered.

“For now, just get back to your room. It won’t help our case if she catches you circumventing grounding.” She gave him a smile, “No matter how sweet it was of you to do that.”

“Who watches the watchers?” Edward was saying on the security feed from Deep Eleven.

Brother Wright sat back in his padded chair and backed the file up to that line again.

“Who watches the watchers?” Edward said again.

“Who, indeed, Mr. Tyler.” Wright chuckled. “It’s really interesting how ‘good cops’ like you always ask that question and yet have no idea where it comes from or what the response was.” He paused the playback and grinned at it in satisfaction. “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Well, Plato responded to Juvenal ‘They will guard themselves against themselves. We must tell the guardians a noble lie. The noble lie will inform them that they are better than those they serve and it is, therefore, their responsibility to guard and protect those lesser than themselves. We will instill in them a distaste for power or privilege, they will rule because they believe it right, not because they desire it.’”

“And what does all this philosophizing have to do with Prometheus’s place in your grand, over arching plan?” behind him, Simon Talbot, director of the Academy and architect of the current incarnation of Project Tome was also watching the security feed. “You are, after all, the one that said the ‘old guard’ wouldn’t be that useful in reacquiring our errant resources.”

Wright turned his chair to face Talbot, a dark complexioned man with neatly trimmed hair and a matching Van Dyck beard. He was dressed in an obviously expensive three piece suit plus black, leather gloves. “The noble lie is the key here, Mr. Talbot. Prometheus is a detective at heart – one of the old breed that use contacts and legwork instead of search engines and databases. Your missing resources are being protected by Laurel Brant, the third most intelligent human on the planet – she’ll cover all of our traditional methods of detection.”

“But by piquing Prometheus’s interest with the shroud of secrecy we’ve lain over this case…” Talbot picked up on Wright’s line of thought, “we need only follow the leads he digs up for us. I knew there was a reason I’ve let you have so much free reign, Wright.”

“Thank you, Mr. Talbot.” Wright smiled. “Does this mean my team has been approved?”

“Yes.” Talbot nodded, “It isn’t as if they were ever going to make official Rank One status anyway, so it’s no loss to the Enforcers.”

“Good, good.” Wright smiled. “Oh, if I can ask for one more concession?”

“Name it.” Talbot said.

“I’d like to have access to a few of the inugami. For testing purposes.”

“Granted.” Talbot smiled wickedly.

End Issue #8