No Matter the Cost, Part 5

By Camospam, Wendy K and Gabi.

A Non-canon Whateley Academy Adventure.

Northern Vermont, Delta Site.

 “Move a muscle and I’ll rip his soul out!” Threatened Tammuz as he gauged the warrior’s reaction to having his compatriot; a scrawny boy, held captive and hoisted overhead. The boy was pined fast against the ceiling by Tammuz’s left arm while his right hand was imbedded into the boys chest.

 Cameron was stuck, with a huge arm pressing his torso against the ceiling he could barely breath, the pressure being used to hold him also restricted his chest and ribs. While the boy’s feet dangled unsupported in the air, kicking Tammuz in the head would win Cameron little advantage, so Cameron went limp allowing the scene to play out.

Pulling out souls was Tammuz’s trump card - he’d purposely demonstrated this devastating act before crowds to instil terror into his minions. It didn’t matter so much that soul searing was only a ploy that worked on Avatars: humans who had hallows and been subsumed by a spirit, it was the principle behind it that Tammuz sought. Fear!

 Fear is a great motivator, fear of death has kept the masses and underlings in line for ages, fear of injury results in men cowering in corners to avoid being hurt. Spirits mastered inflicting fear and pain as weapons throughout their long campaign of conquest, harkening back to the time when they could manifest physical bodies.

Tammuz smiled, his assailants hadn’t pressed their momentary advantage of a surprise attack. Granted, of the two, the warrior was far more skilled with weapons than himself, he’d thwarted Tammuz’s escape by barring the door. Maybe in less confined circumstances it would be different, but here with Tammuz being so massive in tight quarters it worked against him, he knew when he was outmatched.  However, Tammuz had stymied the warrior by grabbing the pitifully small boy, exploiting a hostage was well within Tammuz’s ideology, anything to turn the tide to his favour, win at any cost.

Ulrich for his part relaxed his defensive posture, he’d prevented the false god’s escape, per Cameron’s plan. Ulrich allowed his sword to lower until the tip touched the floor, resulting in the wary Were-fox leaning upon his sword’s pommel as he rested. A sign of deescalation, to let the battle’s focus turn to become a waiting game.

Tammuz repeatedly rammed the hapless and so far compliant boy into the ceiling to emphasize the superiority of his position, garnering some Oof’s from his captive who didn’t even squirm. Smugly, Tammuz allowed a smile to form upon his face, his ploy had succeeded brilliantly, obviously these two had no idea who they are dealing with.

Status reports from his lackeys had earlier informed Tammuz that Delta site was unsalvageable. The lower tunnels had flooded and the water was quickly rising. His command was compromised, he’d begun to plan his escape under the guise of assembling a counterattack. The Coalition supplied manpower were expendable, minions with no merit beyond obeying orders, do or die trying, deemed unfit if they retreated.

The minor God however had other plans for himself, none of which included surrender. His was to be a rise to glory and a position of power for his service under the grand scheme, nothing would stand in the way of his ascension to greatness. These two annoyances were an unwanted inconvenience, being weak without conviction, certainly little more than a pebble on his glorious path to victory. Besides, man was far beyond the means to mount any real insurrection, what he faced now was laughable at best.

However, word would spread how he’d let a key Coalition facility fall, undoubtedly he’d be blamed for this, his neck wrung by the Triune for his failure … everything he’d achieved so far would be turned over to another, there’s always another waiting to step up … unless! If he could turn this unfortunate mess around, capture the instigators, regain control of the escaped mutants. All would be forgotten and forgiven if he could deliver all of them - beaten and broken, ready for sale and distribution, he just might be rewarded instead.

“Surrender and the boy lives,” demanded Tammuz, the beginning of a plan falling into place, starting with mastery over these puny humans. Fortunately they have so many exploitable weaknesses.

 The sword bearing warrior barring the door didn’t flinch, rather he ignored Tammuz’s demand and wasn’t swayed from his resolute stand, the man just stood his ground leaning against his sword. He was clever, his position in front of the door ensured it remained closed, prevented any from entering, or for that matter letting anyone leaving Tammuz’s chamber, that wouldn’t do!

“Drop your sword and get on your knees.” Tammuz demanded, he couldn’t help himself, he loved to see them grovel.

Ulrich remained stationary, unflinching, a guard staying at his post.

“Do it!” Shouted Tammuz, giving the boy a shake. “Otherwise I’ll kill him!”

“Not going to happen,” calmly replied the unflappable warrior.

 Cameron had felt the swift blow delivered by the twelve foot tall giant, it struck him in the chest like a sledgehammer. His ribs hurt something fierce, but it turned out to be nothing more than a crafty display, just as Cameron suspected. The false gods hand was made to look like a blade. It so happened that as Tammuz moved his hand to strike the boy it curled into a fist. However, the Avatar spirits immaterial appendage was driven into Camerons flesh.

 Although being repeatedly hammered into the ceiling wasn’t pleasant, the situation gave Cameron time to identify the stored energy Tammuz was hoarding within himself. His massive size was a manifestation of the huge energy reserve he’d accumulated. Time to tap into that.

With Tammuz’s ‘hand’ imbedded into Cameron a direct link was established, it was now possible for Cameron to siphon off energy like a leach engorging itself on blood. The flow of energy came fast once opened so Cameron gobbled it up, sending it directly into his battery.

Tammuz looked up at Cameron, his smug expression told of how he had no clue what was happening. However, when the oversized man attempted to extract his ‘hand’ out from Cameron’s body it wouldn’t budge, so instead he tried to dig further in and make a grab for the supposed immaterial spirit inhabiting the boy.

Tammuz’s power play failed to work as expected: “You have no soul!” he cried out in surprise, having been certain the boy hid a spirit within, why else had so pitiful a whelp attempted an insurrection.

“Correction, I am a living soul. What I don’t have is a wicked spirit roosting inside me. Nobody’s pulling my strings,” explained Cameron. His flippant remark enraged the giant resulting in Cameron getting slammed into the ceiling yet again, an ‘ooff’ indicating he’d felt that.

Turning to face Ulrich, Tammuz gave the old fox a wicked sneer of contempt, saying: “Such camaraderie! Aren’t you even going to try and rescue your friend?”

“He’s not the one being held captive,” responded Ulrich.

“What are you talking about? I am the victor here!” gloated Tammuz.

“I suppose you’ve been too busy to notice that you’re shrinking,” explained Ulrich.

“What!” Shouted the shocked Avatar, looking at himself in disbelief. He had shrunk nearly a foot and a half by his reckoning. “What are you?” Stammered Tammuz looking at the boy anew, giving him a violent shake since he could no longer slam him against the caves rough hewn ceiling.

The mistreatment resulted in Cameron’s glasses falling off his face, revealing shining golden eyes. Looking directly into Tammuz’s fear riddled eyes, Cameron said, “Surely you recognize the light of truth when you see it?” 

Tammuz wretched at the sight, a physical revulsion racked his body causing him to stumble against a wall as he reeled from the revelation. Cameron was slammed against anything in the giants path as he tried to extract his hands, anything to break free from the entrapment.

 Tammuz attempted to throw the boy as far away as possible with an overhead pitch of the boy’s body, but the connection between them held fast. Tammuz was stuck to Cameron, much like when a person is electrocuted and can’t let go of a live wire.

The motion Tammuz had initiated by trying to throw Cameron away resulted in the both of them tumbling to the floor, the shifted weight upending Tammuz’s balance so he performed a swan dive landing heavily on the floor, face first, his outstretched arms still attached to Cameron.

 Cameron bounced across the floor smashing against chairs and a table, but managed to keep himself positioned above the giants head as they both lay sprawled out on the floor. 

Tammuz couldn’t do anything but lay flat on the ground, his face pressed down against the rug covered floor, any attempt Tammuz made to rise up was thwarted by Cameron who would simply skid forward removing the leverage the giant needed to lift himself up. Tammuz had shrunk to less than eight feet and was losing his mass - and energy fast.

Ulrich stood still, his hands overlapped as they rested against the pommel of his sword. Tammuz made the effort to raise his head and look up at the Were warrior. The giant was well within striking distance and fear gripped the god for the first time in many an age, Ulrich put his foot onto the false gods head and moved his sword against Tammuz’s throat.

“I can end this quickly,” offered Ulrich.

 “Killing the body doesn’t solve the problem, the spirit can jump to another,” announced Cameron, his eyes not breaking contact with the Avatar, who panted heavily as it laid on the ground in front of him.

 Tammuz shuddered violently, his hands still unable to be removed from the hold he’d made onto the boy, no matter how hard he tried to break the link. “What are you doing to me?” He cried out in dismay.

“Draining you,” admitted Cameron. “You’ve certainly built up a considerable reserve of power.”

“It’s mine, you can’t have it!” Complained Tammuz struggling to extricate his hand without success.

“How is it that you’ve managed to collect so much?”

“I’m a god, it is my right.”

“You have a twisted concept of what’s right and wrong, considering you’ve been banished from the source. So tell me, how did you amass so much energy?”

“Binding to flesh has its benefits.”

“Certainly not enough surplus energy to account for what you’ve got stored up. Where did it come from?”

“My underlings, they pay me tribute.”

“I see, so, it stands to reason that you also must pay tribute to your superiors. How much is charged?”

“Fifty percent.”

“That’s a hefty price.”

 “Better to rule in hell, than be a slave in heaven,” spat Tammuz.

“I’m curious, those two spirits you'd imprisoned down in the Pit: Bobo and Pascal, they worked for you?”

“Ungrateful fools, they thought to become independents.”

“I assume they didn’t like you pulling them out of hosts, performers for your little circus act to keep everyone in line.”

 “Everyone has a role to fulfill, a part to play.”

“What is your part?”

 “I am a prince.”

“Dandy! By your own admission you’re a prince of fools. Why enslave mutants?”

“By distributing empowered mutants, Meta-gene activated humans, we supply the weapons needed to those seeking dominance - those who want a place in our world order.”

“You fancy yourself a power broker?”

“Supply and demand, keep supply short so demand remains high. Demand can be very lucrative.”

“I gathered such from your little treasure trove over there. What use is money to an immaterial spirit?”

“Money is a power humans desire, it buys us loyalty and with it we can make humans do anything we require.”

 “Who pulls your strings?”

 “I am a god.”

“I understand that’s what you want to believe, what’s the truth?”

“Above me is a supreme council consisting of nine, three from each of the principle pillars of the triune. They administer the Coalition.”

“What are the triunes three pillars?”

 “Government, Commerce, and Religion. It’s how control is kept over humanity, keeping them divided and unbalanced, always at each others throat.”

“Why did you infect man with the Meta-gene?”

“Ha! You would deny these humans their true potential. You must realize that they are limited, prevented from reaching the fullness of their purpose.”

“So you poisoned them, spiking their genetic codes, unraveling dormant traits without regard for the damage it brings.”

“We set them free.”

 “You’ve created monsters, by manipulating their bodies you’re attempting to twist the very fabric of their existence. You’re ruining them!”

 “As opposed to keeping them small and dependent.”

“Man needs to grow up before his full potential can be realized. Until he demonstrates the ability to master his mind and heart - so yes, his body must remain juvenile. Otherwise man would destroy himself and undoubtedly the rest of all creation due to  immaturity.”

“There’s no possible justification for holding them back,” scorned Tammuz - what was left of him anyway now at below six feet tall. “As if isolating them from the rest of existence isn’t bad enough, you’d deny them their birthright and keep them stuck on this backwards planet.”

“Man needs time to learn and grow. Earth is our home and our’s alone. To meddle is a grave injustice. The barrier was erected to protect man from the likes of you, to give us the freedom to choose for ourselves what course to follow. But you and your kind is intent on interfering - this cannot be tolerated.”

 “The Meta-gene is spreading, what we have started cannot be undone. Soon all men will manifest latent abilities. All those self righteous plans you believe in shall be for naught.”

“Then on top of your many crimes it includes genocide, because man is not ready yet. This much I have seen time and again, hatred and violence consumes man, it shall lead to their destruction. If not at their own hand, then when all are called to account.”

“You would condemn them and kill them off?”

“Not me personally. No.”

“But you accuse us of genocide, and here you are readying to destroy the earth.”

“There comes a point when the damage done is irreversible. Any failed experiment must get terminated at some point, it would be crazy to run headlong over a cliff when the results don’t meet expectations. Hopefully your tampering hasn’t entirely contaminated all of mankind - at least so far I’ve spotted a few humans who have shown insight to rise above base emotions, it’s better than starting over from scratch.” 

“You seem to care a lot about a race you’re so easily prepared to discard. You are nothing more than cattle in comparison to us, easily distracted and so disorganized, your hopes for them are unfounded. Look how simple it’s been to torque them up, they eat up angst like candy and fight against each other over the smallest slight. Man makes such wonderful playthings.

“You endanger others for your amusement?” Judged Ulrich. “The Were never toy with animals for sport, and only take what food is needed.”

“Oh poor Were! Just getting a sense of things are we?” Chuckled Tammuz, now down to five and a half foot tall. “The Meta-gene was meant to unlock man’s full potential, a necessity after the Were got usurped by the Bastard and we ran out of warriors. A complete human would be far superior to the poor excuses that now populate this planet. If finally unleashed, man could rule the universe, but he’s being held back.”

 “Is he speaking true?” Asked Ulrich of Cameron.

“Partially, mankind failed to demonstrate themselves capable of coping with the fullness of his potential. So man was given opportunity to prove his worth over time, grow up through dealing with responsibility. Judgement will depend upon how man acts, his morals and dignity being the measure,” confirmed Cameron.

 “We’re talking about the same ‘man’ who’s so intent on building more guns while his neighbour’s are starving?” Puzzled Ulrich.

“It’s not all bad. When a human’s mental faculties get enhanced it often results in a lovely hallow cause they haven’t the wherefore-all to fill up all that empty space, it makes for a nice comfy spot for a disenfranchised spirit to set up shop,” laughed Tammuz.

“While denying that person the unassailable right to freewill! To live their life without interference or corruption from your kind,” accused Cameron.

 “If it’s their hearts desire, how can that be wrong?” Countered Tammuz.

 “But they aren’t following their heart - you and your kind are manipulating them at every turn, pushing them to do your bidding, so they follow your rebellious course. You’re making them become just like you,” assessed Cameron of the motivations at play.

“We’re only opening their eyes to opportunity,” reasoned Tammuz

“You’re leading them down the path to destruction,” affirmed Cameron

“Ha! Of course you’d say that. Your inclination is to have man blindly obey, be good little minions.”

“Man must be granted every opportunity to determine for ourselves right from wrong. But you’ve hidden the truth from us, masked your very presence in order to mislead. So far you’ve managed to corrupt society, convincing men that violence is the best way to solve problems.”

“It works. Why fix what’s not broken?”

 “You’ve seen to it that we are denied the freedom to truly explore humanity, stopped us from finding our own way. Discovering that within ourselves we have a unique threshold for love, and a future to become who we should be.”

Tammuz had shrunk to a diminutive stature of five foot four from his former gigantic proportions, the spent figure lay exhausted on the floor. Cameron rolled over, the avatar’s entrapped hands disengaged from the boy, Cameron slowly stood and stretched his sore muscles, he’d taken a considerable beating from Tammuz.

 Puddles of water had begun to coalesce in low spots across the floor, the water flooding the lower tunnels having risen to this level now.

What was left of Tammuz gathered up his loose fitting toga and moved to sit on his throne, looking like a tiny child in the huge chair. Ulrich kept vigilant watch over the humiliated spirit as it sighed in resignation.

“What happens now?”

“Now you give up your hold on that man, and come out of him.”

“We can’t be separated, we’re merged.”

“We both know that’s a lie, it’s your greatest fear isn’t it - losing contact with the corporeal world. It’ll be much less painful for you if you come out willingly.”

Tammuz screamed as the existential spirit exited the physical man, splitting from the man who gasped during the connection’s severing. The man slumped down in the chair, his eyes rolling back in his head, nearly fainting. A Wraith floated above the spent and now sobbing man sitting in the oversized chair. Cameron drew his golden sword from its concealment and in a single stab stuck the blade into the Wraith, snagging it firmly upon the blade as it writhed and screeched.

Forming an egg out of black rock Cameron stuffed the shrilling spirit into the solid container and sealed it closed. Silence fell as no more squeals came from the encapsulated wisp. 

Ulrich and Cameron secured the egg onto the elevator chair in the escape tunnel. Before taking the egg up to the next level Cameron dissipated all the gold and gems in Tammuz’s treasure trove. Ulrich escorted the spent man up the stairs. Cameron released the binds that had secured the Exemplar who’d been imbedded into the wall, and she rushed out of the former throne room now ankle deep in water.

 Upon arriving at the highest level and the gapping hole looking out to daylight, Cameron pushed the large egg over to the tunnel’s opening which faced out onto the new lake. Giving the egg a kick it rolled with a wobble to the lip of the embankment until it dropped into the water below with a splash, quickly sinking out of sight.

Floating in the lake was Hector, he had somehow managed to grab onto some wood and hung on - rising with the water inside the Pit’s shaft. Hector splashed as he struggled to reach the far shore away from Cameron, the egg’s splash warning him away. Hector stopped his struggle when he saw John on the far shore waiting for his arrival.

Leaving his Were friends to handle the remaining guards escaping from a watery tomb by climbing up the elevator shaft. Cameron walked around the lake shore, and stood in the creek’s waterfall to take a shower, wanting to remove far too many days worth of grime. He changed into his RCMP duty uniform and hiked up the steep slope to the hole’s edge, and headed towards the group of mutants waiting for him.

 Drizzle fell in sporadic outbursts, quickly bringing chills upon the young mutants who didn’t have proper clothing to be out in the elements. Cameron had some tarps stored in his Warehouse dimension which they hung to provide at least some shelter, and the  few blankets he possessed were distributed for warmth. However, Cameron had next to nothing remaining in the way of food to help satiate empty stomachs.

Huddled around a small campfire, Cameron was introduced to a Were-badger, the black enshrouded Were who Cameron had set free down in the Pit. The young boy was easily in the worst shape of any who had escaped that prison, Allan handed Cameron some white energy balls, the ones used to free the Were-badger from the torturous black contaminate,  Cameron was able to make little pills out of the white energy balls.

“Eat these, they’ll help,” offered Cameron. ”What’s your name?”

“Fill Morison.” 

“Phil, as in Phillip?”

“No, Fill, as in: ‘Fill all those darn holes you dug before someone breaks a leg.”

“How old are you Fill?”

 “Fourteen.”

 “Where is your family?”

“My tribe lived in Idaho, I don’t know what’s become of my family. I was protecting the youngest kids when our village was attacked by the black covered devils. I’ve no idea if I’m the only one still alive.”

 “We’ll get you to the Medawihla, they might know something about your village, or the whereabouts of other Were-badgers.”

 “Are you the golden eyed guy?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Even though I was covered in that black stuff, I remember everything. I saw your eyes, down in that hole, and - well, I’m glad to be free of that stuff.”

“I’m glad you made it. When you say you remember, do you know where the corrupted army is hiding?”

“I recall a couple places, do you want me to show you?”

 “After we talk to the Medawihla, if you’re willing. I’m sure the Oberon's will want to hear all about it.”

“Oberon’s? You mean there’s more than one!, You must be the Golden Eyed guy.”

 “Cameron, you can call me Cameron. I still don’t believe I’m the legendary Golden Eyed Man.” 

The Were-badger was given space to rest as the other Were recounted their adventures of how they’d arrived here.

Ella’s Were senses picked up activity nearby and alerted Cameron to a vehicle’s approach, minutes later the noise of an engine  and the crunch of tires on gravel could be heard in the distance. Soon enough a black sedan pulled into view through the trees, screeching to a halt just before it would’ve dived into the newly formed lake.

A second car could now be heard approaching, due to arrive in a couple minutes behind the first.

The two MCO agents inside the first car didn’t leave their vehicle, rather they tried to ascertain the danger from the safety of their car, taking pictures of the huddled group of mutants. It wasn’t until the second car pulled up behind the first that anyone made any move in a co-ordinated effort. All the MCO agents stepped over to the back of their respective cars and began loading themselves down with weaponry.

 One of the agents, from appearances the senior one present, who brandished a large gun hoisted onto his shoulder, called out: “Nobody move, by authority of the MCO you’re all under arrest.”

 Cameron stepped forward from the midst of the distressed group to address the antagonizing situation: “These people are under the custody of the RCMP, I do not recognize your authority to arrest anyone, so I shall not relinquish them over to you.”

“Dumb move kid,” commented the agent who had taken the lead. “The MCO has jurisdiction here.”

 “Why is that?”

 “We’re the first ones on the scene.”

“Not as I see it,” rebuked Cameron holding his police badge in view. “Besides, I can quote the MCO’s charter if you’re unaware of the details of your authority.”

“Don’t give me no lip boy. Put your hands in the air and get on your knees - all of you!”

No one moved, certainly none present would willingly submit themselves to the MCO, especially those mutants who had just recently escaped. They were now free from a life of tyranny, victims of the MCO who undoubtedly had a hand in their capture and responsible for handing the mutants over to become slaves.

The agent realized that the situation wasn’t going as he’d demanded, so he cocked his gun, loading a bullet into the chamber. If anything, it only caused his quarry, an assorted group of seventeen young mutants all wearing prison rags, to look at the agents with defiance.

As the aggressive MCO agent in front raised his gun to point at the mouthy little RCMP kid, the barrel drooped, sagging as if he was holding onto a wet noodle.

“Oh, wow, they really don’t make them like they used to do they?” Jested Cameron. “I’m guessing it’s not supposed to do that.” The comment ignited a fury within the MCO agent who reached into his holster for his pistol to shut the kid up.

Pulling out his sidearm the MCO agent was baffled, it didn’t feel right, instead of his trusty Glock he held a spatula which he looked at in disbelief.

“I suppose the question running through your mind right now is: Just where the heck did I put that darned thing? I hope your wife didn’t try using it to cook breakfast with.”

The man’s frustration burst, he yelled a primal scream while throwing the kitchen utensil at Cameron. The spatula bounced off the boy without touching him, as the man sought to pummel the kid with a series of punches. None connected, prevented by a thin barrier that stopped his blows short.

The distraught man took a step back, looked at his fellow agents for support, only to see that they too had been stripped of any useful weaponry.

The infuriated man lunged again at Cameron, only to be thwarted by Bob the Brick this time who’d inserted himself between the two. The MCO agent pounded his fists against Bob’s impenetrable brick field, as a wide smile spread across Bob’s face, satisfaction at seeing the hated agency’s representative’s futile efforts.

“What should I do with him?” Asked Bob.

“I’d say he’s a little hot under the collar, throw him into the lake to cool off before he hurts himself, or gets himself hurt,” recommended Cameron.

If MCO tossing qualified as a highland games event Bob was a contender. The agent flew almost three quarters of the way across the circular lake flopping about like a rag doll, making a huge splash upon landing into the still growing lake, garnering whoops of delight from the watching youth.

 “Anyone else inclined to be a hindrance, or would you prefer to help?” Asked Cameron of the three remaining MCO agents. The older of the remaining agents approached Cameron, his demeanour looked reconciliatory until he got near enough to the boy. He spun quickly to strike the boy with a well practiced sweeping kick to the head.

The sneak attack came up short, the man’s foot was held suspended mid-air leaving the antagonist exposed, since he wasn’t able to withdraw his extended leg.

Cameron walked around his would be assailant, tsk’ing before asking: “Anyone else want a chance at throwing out the trash?”

Another brick named Norbert held up his hand asking if he could give it a go. Cameron invited him to do his best. The Second MCO agent sailed across the water like a spinning cartwheel to a chorus of Oooh’s bursting into cheers as the man made a big splash as he entered the lake head first.

Neither of the two remaining MCO agents volunteered to be the next one chucked into the frigid lake. Instead they surrendered by raising their hands - offering use of the MCO’s computers to access the agencies database to assist identifying the memory stripped mutants encircling them.

By the time DARPA arrived, swooping down in a big helicopter with ground support arriving soon afterwards, Vermont State Troopers arrived on the dirt road resulting in a long line of vehicles attending the site. The majority of the freed mutants had been able to discover their true identities by checking records retained on the MCO’s database, it was a victory, even if it resulted in shed tears. 

 Before the mutants begin to be shuttled off to police stations in nearby communities by the state troopers, Cameron split Tammuz’s stash of monies between all of them. Money in itself wouldn’t account for the hurt brought upon them, but maybe it’d help ease them back into the life nearly from them.

Arkham Research Centre

 A single large white van drove into the parking lot having passed through the facilities security booth, the van circled up under the carport and halted in front of the glass entrance doors. The vehicle’s side door opened and out stepped a lone youth dressed in a green wool sweater and khaki pants. He spoke to the vehicle’s remaining occupants before he looked side to side, to then enter the imposing complex.

The building’s large glass doors slid open automatically leading into a spacious foyer, off in one corner was a seating area situated in front of a fireplace, the flame was artificial but lent to a cozy atmosphere with the leather couches and tables placed to encourage conversation. The rest of the space available was wide open to impress visitors, with chairs scattered about near the outside walls.

The interior walls had modern art works adorning them, abstracts with colours matching the foyer’s decor, subtle colour hues that brought calm to the observer. The whole room was meant to instil peacefulness while stating the organization’s professionalism.

The front desk was across the expansive foyer from the fireplace, the attendant was an attractive young girl, in keeping with most businesses liking to have a pretty face be the first contact made at their company. This girl was agitated, Cameron noted the flashing red light hidden under the countertop. It wasn’t known if she’d hit the silent alarm when the van drove up, or if it had been initiated from the Security checkpoint in the parking lot.

Directing his attention upon the rattled young lady handling the desk, Cameron noticed how much she was unnerved, her rapid pulse rate and spiked adrenaline levels indicating her stress.

She stuttered when saying: “Welcome to Arkham Research Centre. How can we help you today?”

 “I would like to speak with whoever is in charge. You’re holding three friends of mine against their will, I would like them released please,” detailed Cameron.

“I see, and your name?”

“Cameron Burke, my pseudonym is Outlook.”

“And who is it you’re looking for?”

“Marcus Johnson, Ken Tallman, and Al Koenig.”

 “I’ll notify the doctor in charge of their care, he’ll be with you in a moment. Would you care for something to drink while you wait?” As she gestured to a refreshment stand at the end of the counter.

“No thanks, I’ll pass. To be honest I find Arkham’s hospitality to be somewhat dubious.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your excused. I’ll understand completely if you find it necessary to run and hide.”

The girl looked at him with an expression of bewilderment, but didn’t leave her post. Rather she busied herself straightening items on her desk before taking a phone call, after which she quickly stepped to a door on the wall behind the desk. With a hurried look over her shoulder back at Cameron, she scanned a security card that opened the locked door through which she escaped.

Out from that same door came a man wearing doctor whites, he was fairly tall, but when compared to Cameron - who wasn’t. The doctor moved closer coming around the counter, rubbing his hands which Cameron took to be a nervous reaction. 

 “Splendid, just splendid. I’m so glad you’ve finally come. If you'll follow me we can begin testing,” greeted the doctor.

“You are?” Puzzled Cameron, he’d already read the identification tag on the man’s lapel but better to be polite.

“Dr. Michaels, come, come, we’ve so much to do and times a wasting. I’d hoped you’d have gotten here sooner.”

“I’m going to have to disappoint you further doctor. I didn’t come here to submit myself to testing. I’ve come to collect my friends and be on our way.”

 “Dear oh dear. That just won’t do. Your friends are suffering from delusional episodes and are in need of psychiatric care. They can’t be allowed to leave, heavens no, they’re not cured yet. Besides, now that you're here, I’m certain we can help them along to a speedy recovery.”

 “Just what delusions are they experiencing?”

“They are adamant about having witnessed miracles. Obviously figments of a deluded mind. We can’t have people like that roaming the streets, goodness no. They’re a danger to themselves and all right minded individuals.” 

“I see, miracles you say? Something like objects appearing out from nowhere for instance?” Questioned Cameron as he set a large hefty green stone Inuit carving of a polar bear down onto the counter.

Dr Michaels stared at the skillfully carved artwork, reaching for it he checked its weight and turned it around before commenting: “A clever trick,” admitted the man.

“If it were a trick I suppose so,” reprimanded Cameron. “Can you explain this away as easily?” At which Cameron brought out from Warehouse a bicycle, which appeared beside him in a quick blue flash. “Do you suggest perhaps I had this hidden up my sleeve?”

Dr Michaels ‘hurmpt’ loudly, unconvinced at the display.

“In consideration that you too have now also seen something miraculous, shouldn’t you be committed as well?”

“That’s preposterous! Trickery or some sort of teleportation no doubt.”

 “So you deny what you saw then?”

“No.” Back pedalled the scientist, not sure how to extricate himself from the corner he was painting himself into.

“But you feel justified for incarcerating those who stand by what they’ve seen?”

“Of course, the only way to expose the unknown is through scientific discovery and thorough study.”

“Are you a man of faith Doctor?”

“I’m a scientist, there’s no place for unsubstantiated beliefs, science deals in facts.”

“I didn’t ask you if you believed in God, I wanted to know if you had faith. You believe in science which demands just as much faith as religion. Any experiment must adhere and conform to established standards to attain repeatable results. So, no doubt you employ the scientific method to discover the 5 W’s.”

“Of course, it’s the foundation of all scientific reasoning.”

“But have you considered the ramifications of what would happen, if say, through your scientific studies, you proved the existence of God?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am imbued by God. If that holds true, there’s a large probability that you’ll discover the opposite of what you’re hoping to find.”

Dr Micheals ‘hurmpt’ at the absurdity of it all.

“Tell me, are you at all familiar with a quote attributed to Sherlock Holmes? ‘When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’”

“Your point?”

“Do you understand the equation E=MC squared?”

“Einstein’s theory or relativity, certainly.” 

“Einstein expressed with his formula how it would be possible to extract energy from matter, through him we entered the atomic age - releasing the blessing and the malediction. What do you hope to gain from you studies?”

“The furtherance of mankind.”

“As did Einstein. Yet Einstein himself tried to stop the making of atom bombs, he felt man would destroy himself with the very knowledge Einstein had unveiled. To be honest, I will not allow you to explore what I can do, for the simple reason man isn’t able to handle the truth of it.”

 “You would be so selfish?”

“Selfish? No! Consider how little effort it takes to demolish a house, compared to how much work it took to construct it. Smashing an atom releases vast amounts of energy. However, to make a single atom takes hundreds of times more energy. Man cannot wield that kind of power, it would be like standing on the sun, he can’t do it. I won’t expose mankind to such risk.”

“You can make matter?”

“Far from it, at best I can only gather one-tenth of the energy it would take. I can only rearrange matter, refurbishing and replenishing it.”

“Would allowing me to study that be so wrong?”

 “Yes. Because it opens the door to something the Creator has left for only himself to have mastery over.”

“You’re implying you won’t help me because God doesn’t want anyone else to have access to such power?”

“In part, only God Almighty can harness that much power, and not destroy reality in the process. Isn’t that what a loving parent does, protect his children? Telling them ‘don’t touch’ if something is dangerous.”

 “I don’t believe in God.”

“That’s alright, he believes in you.”

“Are you implying you’re some heavenly apparition, like an angel?”

“No doctor, I am simply a gifted human with the job of uncovering hidden agendas, a spy if you like, mine is not to be a messenger.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

 “Because you are focused upon unraveling secrets man isn’t ready or willing to accept. You are being asked to stop. Given the opportunity to change your course and pursue a more fruitful endeavour, one in line with your preconceived objectives. Honestly, you would be thrown out of serious scientific circles if you released a paper purporting the existence of God. So you are being shown dignity, even though you’ve sought to deny it to others.”

 “You mean I’ve humiliated your friends, and tried to manipulate you.”

“Yes Doctor, that is part of it.”

“I don’t agree with your conclusions, but I can understand why you’ve made them.”

“Thank you. Might I ask you to keep this to yourself?”

“Who would I tell? Nobody would believe me.”

“Fair point. Now, about the release of my friends?”

A secondary entrance into the foyer burst open, interrupting the discussion. A short stout man wearing an ARC Security uniform strut up to the facilities greeting station. Accompanying him was another similarly clad man, but this one didn’t walk with the same swagger or have the same puffed out chest.

“Excellent Dr. Michaels, you’ve kept him busy. We can take it from here.” Stated the Security man with bluster, his uniform marking him as a lieutenant. He forcefully grabbed Cameron’s arm, twisting it behind the boys back and pinning him against the reception counter.

“What are you doing?” Exclaimed a shocked doctor. “Let him go!”

“You didn’t actually listen to this boy did you? You know he gets into peoples’ heads, messes with their minds. Manipulates them!” Was claimed by the man while Cameron’s hands were forcibly handcuffed.

“You don’t understand,” claimed Dr. Micheals.

“I understand perfectly well. You best leave this particular threat to us. It’s what we’re trained for,” commanded the Security Lieutenant pushing the doctor aside to distance him away from Cameron.

A tinkling sound was heard like an orchestras triangle, much like the noise an elevator makes when stopping at a floor. However, this was the telltale noise a certain contracted Teleporter made when arriving at her destination. Along with the Teleporter came Detective Roberts, who stepping into the foyer behind the young woman, he was a little shaken from the experience but quickly assessed the room.

 The senior Security Lieutenant spoke first “So glad you came Detective. I’ve apprehended this delinquent, he’s a known dangerous mutant that’s evaded capture and wanted for numerous crimes. Did you wish to read him his rights?”

“I’m here to enact a search warrant, to secure the release of three men who have been wrongfully incarcerated,” explained Roberts. “I was detained at the courthouse, but that young man is with me. Release him immediately!”

 “Not you too!” Decried the Security man. “This boy lies like a sidewalk, he messes with peoples’ brains, you can’t believe a thing he says.”

 “I didn’t say anything,” commented Cameron.

“Shut up you,” demanded the Security man smacking the back of his head with a slap. “You’ve turned Doctor Michaels into a mindless imbecile.”

 “I am in complete control of my faculties,” defended Dr. Michaels.

“Of course you’d say that. It’s what this menace wants you to believe,” shouted the Security man getting agitated, seeing the situation had deteriorated. On impulse he grabbed his gun from its thigh holster seeing the tide had turned against him. The gun was a short double barrel shotgun, he raised it up to Camerons chest and fired both rounds mere inches away from the boy.

The blast caught Cameron off guard, his force depleting barrier prevented the lead shot from impacting, but the combination of a sudden attack along with how close the guns discharge was. The shotguns discharge pushed Cameron backwards, knocking the wind out of his lungs as he was hurled across the open foyer, fortuitously he landing upon the upholstered chairs which were lined up along the glass wall.

Cameron lay sprawled out gasping for air, he dissipated the handcuffs restraining his arms and adjusted himself to ease the effort it took to breathe. The Security Lieutenant ran over - now brandishing his baton and prepared to strike the prone boy as he recovered. The batons impact connected with the boys protective field, making a loud ‘crack’ resulting in the Security man dropping his baton and uttering obscenities as he clutched the arm that had wielded the baton.

The Security Lieutenant stood overtop Cameron, swearing a blue streak before bending down to retrieve his baton, he preparing for another strike, sizing up a choice spot to hit. A click beside his ear made him rethink his choices.

Detective Roberts held his revolver to the side of the Security man’s head: “You are under arrest for assault. If you so much as twitch I’m within my rights to put a bullet in your brain.”

The man dropped his baton, raising his hands in surrender. All eyes fixed upon the unfolding scene. It was a long wait since Roberts’ gun didn’t move from its deadly location; pressed against the Security guard’s head just behind his ear. It was a standoff with the Detective trying to decide if the moron had twitched when he’d dropped his baton. Really, it was a question of if Roberts wanted to be bothered with doing all that paperwork.

Securing his gun into its holster, Roberts grabbed his handcuffs and locked them onto the man’s wrists, saying: “I hereby place you under arrest for aggravated assault, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to -“.

“You’re making a mistake,” interrupted the Security Lieutenant. “You’re being manipulated, that kid gets into a person’s head and screws with them.” Argued the Arkham’s Security man, as his hands got restrained. “Arrest him!” He shouted as he tried kicking at the downed Cameron who was still lying across a chair. “He’s a threat!”

“He is a police officer, assisting in carrying out a duly authorized search warrant, You are guilty of obstructing the police and causing bodily harm. Shut up and don’t make this worse for yourself,” instructed the Detective.

Detective Roberts offered Cameron a hand to help get him back onto his feet, the youth grabbed the kindly offered hand and stood up, he straightened his clothing and  wiped his nose with his hand which had a trickle of blood from off his face.

After assuring everyone he was ‘Okay’ Cameron asked “Can I ask him a question?” gesturing to the handcuffed Security man.

“He’s not been read his rights, if he choses to say anything, that’s up to him,” counselled Roberts.

After removing his reflective silver glasses Cameron looked the man in the eyes, asking: “Who do you work for?”

“I work at Arkham Research Centre.”

“Allow me to rephrase that, Who pulls your strings?”

“I ensure the Coalition’s interests are upheld.”

 “Is Arkham in the Coalitions pocket?”

“Not directly, but many have been positioned throughout society to keep the Coalition’s needs foremost.”

 “Ones like you?”

 “Yes.”

 Cameron broke the connection by looking away, after further stepping away he sought Detective Roberts to resume control of the situation, and have the man’s rights read. Doctor Michaels stood transfixed, agog at the scene, his resolve having shattered. “Amazing, absolutely amazing,” uttered the doctor. Unable to deny what had happened, and shocked from having witnessed how Cameron came away from the assault without serious injury.

“Do you suppose you’ve witnessed something miraculous?” Pondered Cameron. “Do you need to be locked up? Like my friends?”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” stumbled the doctor deep in thought. “Are you certain about not letting us observe you? We could learn so much.”

“No, on that I remain resolute.”

“But … I”

“Are you prepared to face the consequences of what we spoke about? Choose carefully what you say next Doctor, the Detective here has the weight of the law behind him, to obstruct justice might damage your career,” cautioned Cameron.

“Shall I have them brought up?” Was sheepishly offered by Doctor Michaels.

“Yes, please. And Doctor; if they have been mistreated, it won’t be looked upon favourably.”

Whateley Academy, Front gate

 The proximity alert which had been placed upon the sole access road leading up to Whateley Academy attracted Arthur’s attention, the cameras Whateley Security had recently installed displayed an array of viewpoints, to capture activity upon the single roadway leading up to Whateley’s gated access. The road continued past the school into the forest beyond, but no one lived on tribal lands past the school, so nearly all traffic on the road was destined for Whateley.

A convoy of six vehicles had triggered security’s latest installation, The early warning system gave Arthur enough time to close the school’s gates, and signal a warning of potential trouble to Kane Hall: Security’s headquarters.

The convoy pulled to a stop outside Whateley Academy’s main entrance, the string of government issue vehicles, some with flashing red and blue lights, halted just outside the school and parked across the road from Whateley’s closed entrance, the cluster of vehicles blocked most of the roadway.

 The automated gates had finished closing just before the cars approached, Arthur noted that they needed to swing closed quicker, so those arriving didn’t see them closing and take it as a gesture of unwelcome, although closed gates kind of made that statement regardless. Arthur checked that the camera feed from the gatehouse was recording, and was getting supplied to the control room’s mainframe at Kane Hall.

 The line of cars sat motionless for a brief time before three people exited from the two white passenger vans, the vans which had been positioned in the middle of the police escort. Ahead of the vans sat two New Hampshire State police cruisers, behind the vans were another two vehicles: an unmarked car, and then another State police cruiser at the rear.

 Arthur watched the three representatives approach after they had spoken with the officers in the unmarked car behind the vans. Of the three, the one on the right was a solid looking man at six feet tall with a large barrel chest, he adjusted his service belt and checked his tie before folding his arms across his chest, heightening his annoyed appearance. The man’s countenance was serious and held an altogether unpleasant expression. Arthur didn’t even need to guess, a brick if he ever saw one.

The man on the left held a more relaxed look about him, not necessarily jovial but he certainly didn’t look as threatening or as put-out like the other man was. But still, the second man managed to convey a sense of purpose, and he was wary of his situation, scanning the surroundings for signs of trouble. He looked long and hard at the faceless gargoyles mounted overtop the schools entrance gate posts, it was a long time before his gaze moved elsewhere. The man’s defined physique was well toned and he was a strikingly handsome fellow, but he looked rough and tumble in his manner. It was a matter of how he moved and carried himself, it said he could hold his own if push came to shove. From all indications this man was only a skilled baseline human, but looks can be deceiving.

  It was the small scrawny kid in the middle that was unsettling to Arthur, his eyes were covered behind a pair of reflective silver glasses. But more importantly his posture bespoke of someone who would rather be anywhere else than here. The kid was nervous and constantly looking side to side at his companions, it hinted that by being between the other two, it gave him the courage to approach the school. He carried no discernible weapons, that alone alerted Arther to danger since it screamed out a threat level of unknown proportions.

 The two men and the boy stopped just shy of the school’s multilayer shields, Arthur knew the exact line those formed across the roadway, and around the entirety of the school’s fenced property. It was as if these newcomers could sense them, since they didn’t cross over the shielding and kept distanced. It was the kid that had halted them.

They all wore matching police uniforms, but from this distance Arthur couldn’t make out what department. Not state police, those had remained in the cars, but these three certainly represented an authority - it signalled trouble. He zoomed one of the mounted  cameras in to accurately see an RCMP chevron on a uniform, curious.

Arthur exited his small little stone guardhouse, his one hand never straying far from the holstered gun hung on his belt. Stepping up behind the closed gate Arthur noted how the sentinel gargoyles seemed attentive to the goings on - gad’s those things freaked him out, even after all these years.

Arthur called over to the three: “Something I can help you gentlemen with?”

 “We would like a word with Mrs. Carson, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble?” Spoke the one in the middle, the mysterious young boy.

 Arthur’s face twitched, the politeness they’d offered conflicted with the situations potential for escalation. “Does she know you’re coming?” Puzzled the man.

“I suspect she does, but we haven’t got an appointment.” 

 “Do you have a warrant?”

 “No, we just wished to have a conversation at this time, if a warrant is needed we can arrange one, depending upon the outcome of this visit.”

 “I can call for an escort to take you three up to Administration if you’d like, but it would be best if the rest of you waited here, we don’t like interrupting the students on short notice.”

“No thanks, driving in didn’t work out too well last time. If it’s not asking too much, could Mrs. Carson come here?”

 “I can see if she is available, please wait a minute.” Arthur hoped Kane Hall was watching and monitoring the goings on, reinforcements would sure be nice.

 Arthur picked up the phone and dialling up Admin’s number, he waited for someone to answer, he quickly glanced back to the three standing outside the gate and waved at them to show he was attending to their request. Arthur then swept the camera to show Security the row of waiting vehicles positioned along the road, he attempted to count the men inside them - armed policemen, eight of them!

 It was Mrs. Claire who answered the phone, thankfully! She was a sweetheart - so much nicer to talk to then that Heartless woman. “It’s Arther up at the front gate, we’ve had some surprise visitors arrive, they’re asking to speak with Mrs. Carson.”

 “I don’t have anyone scheduled.”

 “No Ma’am, they said as much.”

 “That’s expecting a lot. It isn’t as if we can just drop everything to accommodate them.”

 “Yes ma’am, very inconsiderate of them! But in my experience police aren’t often concerned with anything other than their own interests.”

 “Oh my! The police. How many of them are there?”

 “I’ve counted six State Troopers, three RCMP, and another two from an undetermined agency, and I can’t make out who all is in the passenger vans, all told more than a dozen. So far it’s only the three RCMP who’ve asked to speak with the headmistress, a little outside their territory I’d say.”

 “You did say RCMP, right?”

 “Yes Ma’am, very cordial and all - just like you’d expect from Canadians. State Troopers haven’t said anything yet. It’s just - I believe they could get a warrant if motivated, I think it would be best if we can avoid a confrontation.”

 “Hold tight Arthur, I’m going to see if Elizabeth is available.”

 Mrs. Claire put the phone on hold as she rushed over and knocked on the headmistress office door, she used her special knock; three rapid knocks followed by a single knock - code that something required immediate attention. The entire office hit pause, Claire’s code alerted everyone to trouble.

 “Enter” called Mrs. Carson, as she hung up her conference call.

 “Elizabeth, situation at the front gate. Arthur has a contingent of Police asking to speak with you.”

 “Has Kane Hall been notified?”

 “I believe so, Arthur is on line four.”

 Picking up the phone the headmistress took command: “Arthur, what’s happening?”

 “I have three RCMP officers at the gate, asking to speak with you. They arrived with an assortment of state troopers, and what might be a federal presence also.”

 “Describe these RCMP.”

 “One’s large, looks to be a brick. The other is younger who in my guess is a baseline native. The third is just a kid, on the small side too, wearing silver glasses that hide his eyes. Damnedest thing is - he looks to be the one in charge.” 

 “Outlook! Tell me; have they been confrontational? Does this appear like it will escalate?”

 “I can’t rightly say, They’ve been right sociable so far, they said they haven’t a warrant at this time, but there’s enough of them parked out front to start a small war.”

 “Has Security been alerted?”

 “Yes Ma’am, They have a live camera feed, and I’ve been hearing lots of activity over the radio. One moment Mrs. Carson, Sam Everhart is calling me, I’ll patch her in.” The phone beeped saying another party had connected “Sam, I have the Headmistress on the line.”

 “What’s happening Arthur?” asked the Security details assigned lead. 

 Elizabeth interrupted saying: “Outlook is at the gate asking to speak with me.”

 Sam Everhart commented: “Now I know why Delarose always likes taking Tuesdays off. This is the same kid who rendered everybody at Whateley senseless, then battled voodoo wolves with the Medawihla. ”

 “That’s the one,” inserted Elizabeth.

 “I should let you know: Hive is recommending I have no further interactions with Mr. Burke, it hasn’t developed any effective countermeasures since our last encounter, and classifies him as an extreme threat.”

 Mrs. Carson hmm’ed, “I’m not sure how Outlook will react to a show of force on our part. It’s just that we can’t capitulate to him, we have students to protect.”

 “You feel it will come to that?”

 “It sounds like he’s willing to talk right now, but what happens if it gets out of hand? He might give up on being polite and do heaven knows what. We’d be hard pressed to stop him if past experience has shown us anything. For that matter, he could be here to arrest anyone who’s ever so much as looked sideways at him. We can’t let that happen, the school’s stance on neutrality won’t allow that.”

 “So we’re facing a potentially hostile teenager, who Whateley inadvertently mistreated and essentially ran out of town. The same kid who’s also initiated legal action against the school.”

 “There’s that,” concurred Mrs. Carson. “And we’re harbouring his friends.”

 “Then we should hear him out,” calculated Hive. “Do we send Marissa Dawson out as our legal counsel to speak for us?”

 “Meet me at the front gate, I’ll ask Marissa to join us, three on three makes us equal. Keep Security out of sight but on high alert. I’ll have Mrs. Claire gather up Outlook’s friends just in case.”

 “Elizabeth, if what we know about Outlook is correct, it’s quite possible he can already see everyone at Whateley. If I put Security on high alert it could be construed as an aggressive move on our part. Is it your intention to use his friends as hostages?” 

 “Ideally as a welcoming committee, but we’ll play it by ear. Just tell your men to be ready for anything, in case of trouble.”

 “Ah! Fly by the seat of our pants and try not to screw everything up. I’ll be there in under five minutes.”

 A Security cart zipped along the gravel driveway with two people aboard, Admiral Samantha Everhart drove as Marissa Dawson held on for dear life, Whateley Securities patrol carts had been highly modified as an automotive class project, and could be used to compete in the Dakar rally. It didn’t mean Marissa enjoyed the experience of endangerment or sought the thrill Sam seemed to relish.

 The Admiral parked near to the guardhouse as Arthur stood in the doorway taking on a look of relief from the two’s arrival. As the newcomers approached the closed gate Admiral Everhart and Mrs. Dawson were joined by Elizabeth Carson, she’d flown in low just above the tree tops which lined the driveway. The heroine landed gracefully as she took up a position beside Marissa, who somehow ended up being in the middle of the trio.

 Before the Whateley contingent had greeted each other, of even conferred on how to proceed, Outlook called out: “Mrs. Dawson, good to see you again, you look well.” Which received a head nod in acknowledgement from the lawyer.

“Security Officer Everhart we haven’t met, but I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for the injuries I caused. I’m so glad to see you’ve healed. Had I been familiar with your composition - I’d like to think we could have avoided that mishap.”

 Admiral Everhart replied, “I appreciate your concern Mr. Burke.”

“Mrs. Carson. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to speak with us.”

“Whom do you have with you?” Questioned the headmistress.

 “Pardon me, I hadn’t realized you might not know my companions. On my left is Constable Ken Tallman, a dear friend and teammate at RCMP Special Investigations. To my right is Roche de Boule, otherwise known as Sergeant Al Koenig, also with Special Investigations.”

 “What can we do for you gentlemen?” Asked Marisa Dawson.

 “We’ve come to see about having my friends returned to us. I’d received word that they are under your care here at Whateley Academy. As you can see, transportation arrangements have been made to provide us an escort to cross the border.”

 Tension wained at the admission. Elizabeth released the breath she had been unconsciously holding, the revelation of intent notched down the anxiety, even Sam’s stance relaxed ever so slightly.

 “Your friends have been afforded the greatest care while with us, they’ve been attending classes, and from all accounts been enjoying their time with us.” Informed the Headmistress in an attempt to gauge the boys temperament.

 “I hope they have had a better experience behind these bars than I received,” commented Cameron gesturing at the closed gates.

 “Again you attempt to malign this school’s good reputation, that is uncalled for,” refuted Mrs. Dawson at the impugned slight. “Students at Whateley are given the best treatment and education available.”

 “I suppose that’s a matter yet to be determined, one I am willing to be left with the courts to decide. However, I didn’t come here to quarrel with you, I’m only seeking to find my friends and help them get back home. All other concerns can be dealt with another day.”

 “I’ve arranged for Mrs. Claire to take them to their rooms and gather up their belongings, in preparation …” a whistling sound could be heard coming from the tree’s behind the RCMP entourage, interrupting Mrs. Carson as she finished by saying: “They should be joining us shortly.” 

 The whistling sound was a launched grenade, coming through the air, arcing overtop the parked vehicles and landed in the open space between the parked cars and trio standing outside the schools closed gates. The ordinance exploding in very close proximity to Cameron and his teammates, the grenades extraordinarily intense conclusive blast threw Cameron upward and pushed the boy forward, Cameron was put into contact with the school’s protective forcefield creating a huge energy flare.

 Cameron was slamming hard against the multilayered invisible barrier, nearly anyone else could pass through the schools shields unhindered, but not Cameron. Cameron’s own protective energy field couldn’t interface with Whateley’s impressive barriers, it resulted in Cameron being hurled away in a colourful blast as incompatible energies collided. Cameron had already gone limp, a result of the unanticipated blast, still, the boy was tossed backwards, twisting haplessly through the air, across the distance to smash against the undercarriage of an overturned van.

 The blast wrought severe damage when it formed a deep crater in the gravel driveway in front of the school’s gates, all the cars had been either overturned by the intensity of the explosion, or had been shaken to such an extent that the occupants had been immobilized.

 Samantha Everhart had acted quickly, she had yanked Marissa Dawson to the ground and thrown her body overtop the lady lawyer. The Admiral herself had come away with little damage, but from the groan Mrs. Dawson gave she was badly shaken and in need of medical attention. Sam laid still but scanned the scene.

 Ken Tallman had been thrown by the massive blast too, but passed unhindered through the forcefield, he impacted against the school gates upright metal bars. The RCMP officer slumped heavily against the still closed gate, an arm and his head poking through the slotted barrier, bones had broken given how he lay, blood dribbled from his mouth at each strained breath.

 Sam called for medical assistance from Doyle, Hive’s link to the schools network gave her quick access for issuing alerts.

The other RCMP, Roche deBoule rolled over from where he had been laid out. His brick field protecting him from most of the explosion, but still it upended him and thrust him aside landing him against the school’s rock fence. The large man raised himself onto a knee, and shook his head to clear it before attempting to gain his footing, he wiped a trickle of blood from both nostrils upon his sleeve, and spat out yet more blood before looking around at the damage and for what had become of his associates.

 Hive estimated that the attack was exponentially greater than what a simple flash-bang grenade could deliver, it spoke to the use of a devise, a nasty one at that, not something available on the open market.  From previous queries on the web, Hive could only list six devisors deranged enough to make such a bomb, reduced to just three who were sick enough to actually use one.

 Everhart stood and then carried Marissa over to the cart, strapping her into the passenger seat. She then stepped over to the mangled gates, bent and twisted from the blast, she pulled one side open enough to get through and extracted Ken Tallman from the wreckage. His breathing was laboured and shallow, but he breathed. Sam lifted him as careful as she could and carried him to the waiting cart, laying him in the back of the cart. Thankfully the cart started and rolled away on the gravel with a slight wobble.

 Elizabeth Carson was hung up high in a tree, caught in a mess of branches. The explosion had such impact that she had been thrown the distance having her crash-land into one of the trees along Whateley’s driveway. She was unhurt due to her exemplar fortitude, but it didn’t mean she was happy. Liz dropped to the ground with a degree of unsteadiness in her legs as she walked towards the damaged gate as Sam drove past.

 Mrs. Carson, who had come as far as the edge of the large blast crater outside the school’s gates, assessing the situation. The Brick: Roche de Boule, was approaching the vehicles, he was trying to get to Outlook, but as he neared the downed youth a voice called out: “Stay away from the boy! We claim him for the bounty on his head.”

 The headmistress stood with her hands held in fists and pressed firmly upon her hips, although her skirt was torn and her blouse was littered with branches and twigs, she held the look of unrestrained anger over what had transpired, she was fit to be tied, and the bozo’s responsible just revealed themselves.

 “Whateley Academy is neutral territory, you can’t arrest anyone here,” she shouted in reply to give warning that there was going to be hell to pay.

 The voice came from behind one of the overturned vans, “I’m not arresting him sweetheart, I'm collecting a bounty - there’s a difference. Besides, he wasn’t in Whateley.” Answered a large man who rounding the last of the vans, and approached between the vehicles. He was wearing black tactical armour with a white cross painted across the chest, overtop of which lay a big gaudy gold cross hanging from a chain around his neck. The armour had been modified since his well defined muscular arms were bare aside from forearm bracers and a mini crossbow affixed to the left bracer.

 Over the big man’s right shoulder rested a strung long bow, and while his left arm sported a crossbow his right arm had crossbow bolts stashed into sleeves inset into the bracer, more crossbow bolts adorned his belt and more filled a quiver attached to his right thigh. Long arrows filled the two quivers strapped to his back, the feathered ends showing overtop his muscular shoulders.

 As the big man passed by the unmarked police car, he flipped the single car which had remained upright onto its roof, it was as if it weighed nothing at all to the man. All the overturned vehicles held the officers inside trapped, if they couldn’t open the doors pointing to the sky - bent metal was making it nearly impossible for them to escape and render assistance, if they had retained consciousness.

 Upon both overturned van’s sides - now roofs, jumped large cats. On the lead van came a tiger, upon the second van was a lion. As if on cue the lion roared, a verbal warning to those inside not to attempt interfering. 

 Following a short distance behind the big guy were two other assailants, each carrying large calibre guns with nightmarish proportions, each man was loaded down with canisters attached to the doubled bandoliers slung over each shoulder. The two looked alike, both dressed in similar black body armour - one was slightly taller, he wore a red bandana. These men also sported white crosses, but these were painted on the plates covering their shoulders. None had bothered to hide their faces.

 Arthur panned the last working security camera to capture images of the attackers. The guardhouse windows had all shattered and inside the building was pure chaos, but Arthur worked with what was available and supplied to Kane Hall all he could. It was one of the reasons why at 70 years old Arthur still worked at Whateley, he could adapt when a plan fell apart.

 Sam Everhart texted a response: Orion - calls himself ‘The Mighty Hunter’, Exemplar 6, affiliated with a group called The Right Hand of God. The Harper brothers: Dwayne and Stefan, Dwayne is a Devisor, Stefan’s a Gadgeteer, debated ratings, also associated with The Right Hand of God. Animals suggest presence of The Ring Master, an Empath who controls animals, had worked on the circus circuit but now another Right Hand of God’er.

 Still another arrived behind the Harpers and moved back to the last car in the row, at first he came as a solitary man dressed in bright red underneath grey plate armour. He carried a short sword fastened at his hip, but in his hands he held a large rectangular shield emblazoned with a white cross, he also held a long spear. Overall he looked like a Roman soldier but with modern protective coverings.

 When Sam saw him on the camera feed she provided details: “Cohort, he’s a multiplier, no established rating, he can make an army of himself.”

 Elizabeth watched as the Roman soldier broke himself up into an ever increasing number until they stood as a full detachment, lined up into a wall of men positioned behind those large shields, each shield bore an ornate cross. The number grew until Liz lost count since the total number was obscured when a tortoise formation was made.

 Liz ground out a question she couldn’t reconcile, “The Order of the White Cross aren’t hired out as Bounty Hunters, or known to stoop so low as being Mercenaries. Have you resorted to kidnapping and murder now?” 

 “Our superiors sent us out carte blanche to bring that boy in, they even said we could keep the bounty if successful. We intend to be successful! Twenty million can go a long way.”

 Mrs. Carson was provided enough ammo to work with, despite her misgivings: “Outlook is a student here, he’s been off campus on a special study assignment. He is under this school’s protection.”

 “If you don’t interfere, we’re not above giving you a cut. He’s a thorn in your side, we can make that disappear.” Offered the big man.

“I cannot allow Whateley Academy’s reputation to be tarnished, above all else we provide a place of security for our students. If I let you take him, no student will ever feel safe here again, and no parent will send their child to Whateley.”

“And here we hoped you’d be reasonable, considering that this kids suing your school.”

“It doesn’t matter, We protect those entrusted to us, with our lives if we must.”

“Have it your way sister. But that kid is coming with us regardless. You can’t say we didn’t offer to share the prize and avoid unpleasantries.”

 Mrs. Carson leapt over the gaping hole the explosion had made in the schools access road, landing with outstretched arms. She’d positioned herself between Orion and Outlook, the boy wasn’t moving, his body half lay against the van and half on the ground. It wasn’t much but Cameron made some gurgling sounds barely heard during the heated argument over him.

 Orion swung, his fist deflected by a long practiced move on Elizabeth’s part, she followed through with a fist to the man’s solar plexus, he didn’t even flinch. A flurry of strikes commenced, neither gained an immediate advantage as blows got fended as they sought to size the other up until an opening manifested.

 Lady Astarte had years of experience in slugging it out, her training with Champion coming back like it was yesterday - not a lifetime ago. The sparring match yielded little ground, both of them landing some hits but they were too equally matched in raw power to call a winner. Elizabeth recognized a serious opponent when put against one. 

They both withdrew back a few steps with Mrs. Carson now standing directly above Cameron, distanced attacks were next on the docket.

In a blur of movement Orion withdrew a steel bolt from the quiver on his hip and loaded it into his arm mounted crossbow, pointing the razor sharp tip at the headmistress.

“Be sure about your choices,” cautioned Lady Astarte.

 Orion fired his crossbow, the short arrow streaked at the headmistress who barely sidestepped the projectile in time, as it sailed past her lodging into a vehicle further down the line. Orion had already reloaded by the time Mrs. Carson returned her gaze upon the Exemplar.

Elizabeth had barely straightened herself when the second bolt lodged into her left shoulder, striking and imbedding into bone.

 Marcus had been the van’s front seat passenger when it arrived at Whateley, and he understood the reasoning behind why the three police officers in uniform would make more of an official impression. Although he thought he should be the one to break the ice with Whateley since he was an alumni.

 Cameron had assured him of the peaceful intent in coming to pick up all the youth, not just his foster children but the other teens as well. Cameron was insistent that this was not to be confrontational, rather Cameron was foremost concerned about their wellbeing, and wanted to ensure they returned home safely.

Things rarely go according to plan, why was that statement becoming a truth instead of just a cautionary idea. Life it seems rarely adheres to a plan, that, or someone else has a different outcome in mind

 One thing Marcus had learned early on, be adaptable, something Whateley had tried to stress to its students even back when Marcus attended. It meant taking a situation that’s gone to pot and coping with it. It’s a skill that had served him and Grace well over the years, after years of being chased by the MCO.

And talk about a plan falling apart, the bomb had been so sudden. The Were’s had barely enough time to shout out: “GET DOWN” before the blast rocked the van, flipping it over onto its side. Marcus had his seatbelt on which decreases his injuries, but still, his shoulder had hit the door frame hard and his head was fuzzy. From how little he could move his right arm, and how much it hurt, he wasn’t going to be of much help.

 Marcus eyed up the bear that had sat down between the two vans, he could see the tiger on top of the van ahead through the shattered windshield. Fortunately all the windows on the up side of the van stayed in place although broken into tiny fragments. At first the animals made circuits above them, and the bear plodded around the vehicles it guarded, they all snarled and paced, making a show to frighten any inside the vehicles to not interfere.

Inside the van with Marcus the Were’s began checking everyones condition. Lynn’s brother Allan, Ella and her father Ulrich, and the new boy Phil they’d picked up. Marcus was in amazement at how tough Were’s where, none of them had any injuries to speak of from the explosion and vans rollover, nor had any of them been shaken by the appearance of the animals outside.

It surprised Marcus when Ella whispered into his ear, he hadn’t heard her move.

 “Marcus, when I give the word, I want you to kick out the windshield.”

 He nodded his head in understanding and grimacing at the pain from moving himself around, positioning himself in the seat so his long legs were ready.

 “Now!”

 Marcus reared back and kicked the glass as hard as he could, the broken windshield buckled and the top most side flopped down creating an opening. Out through the open window shot a mass of fur like a cannonball, the Were unfurled and landed on the face of the black bear, digging in sharp claws and holding the bears mouth closed.

 As that scene was unfolding, two lightning quick red foxes bounded out the windshield, jumping in tandem towards the tiger on top of the other van. The foxes took advantage of the surprise attack as one began biting on a rear leg while the other one latching onto the tigers back. The tiger began making wild twists trying to extricate the foxes from any holds they’d secured. In its frenzy the tiger rolled off the van taking with it the foxes.

Marcus stayed still in the front seat, looking over the chair at the scene above, the lion and a black panther were engaged in a snarling match atop the van. The lion would briefly raise a paw to strike but the panther would evade each swipe while landing a devastating counter with equally long and deadly claws. The posturing ended with a head on confrontation as the two stood upon hind legs and slammed into each other, a display of raw power as muscle fought against muscle, in size the lion outweighed the panther.

The large cat wrestling match had the two engage in a dance for mastery, first the panther then a lions foot stepped onto a fractured glass window at which it broke away and left the animals unable to remain standing as both had legs dropped out from underneath them. It resulted in them both losing balance and falling off the van, landing in a snarling writhing heap of fur, legs, claws and snapping teeth in the long grass on the far side of Whateley’s driveway, out of Marcus’s view.

From his vantage point Marcus watched another scene unfold, the tiger was engaged in a match of wits and wiles with two foxes, amidst a frenzy of snarling and yipping. The foxes double teamed the tiger, so as it focused upon one fox the other would attack by biting and scratching the large cat in sensitive areas.

At one point the tiger pinned a fox under a paw, only to have its face assaulted by the other fox, necessitating the tiger to free up its committed paw to knock the fox away thereby releasing the distressed fox. The interplay forced the tiger to back itself up against the van to leave less exposed to the dual fox assault, it didn’t work out well. The foxes now had a means for an aerial attack and took advantage of repeatedly lunging at the tiger from all angles, getting in a fresh bite while avoiding the cats swipe, to then find a new opening to assail the now hapless opponent.

The bear was in even worse shape with a badger firmly attached to its muzzle and using sharp claws to shred the bears face raw, leaving it bleed profusely since the badgers claws were capable of digging through rock. The bear was frantic as it tried to pry the enraged critter off its head. Each swipe made with its powerful front paws only had the badger entrench its claws deeper into sensitive flesh. The bear began smashing its head into anything nearby, including the broken windshield Marcus was hidden behind offering him little protection.

The badger let go of its purchase on the bears face, the bear faltered in its movements as it reeled trying to recoup, but fell to the ground due to its unsteady legs. The badger sprung into action attacking the bears soft fur under its head and above its front legs.

The bear couldn’t extricate the badger since his paws couldn’t reach there. The badger tore into the thick fur to expose the bears neck, and it began biting at the very vulnerable spot. The bear dropped onto its stomach trying to crush the badger underneath, but it just gave the badger better purchase letting it hold on for the long haul.

The tiger was bleeding from multiple cuts and gouges, it had gone from trying to dominate as is often seen in top predators, to a mewling mess just trying to protect itself from further damage. The foxes had made it submit and now held it at bay as it cowered up against the other van.

 Lynn and her teammates had taken off running after hearing the loud explosion while gathering outside their billet, leaving Mrs. Claire far behind at the parking lot in front of the guest cottage, along with the paltry amount of luggage they’d amassed in the short time they’d been at Whateley.

 Charlotte had taken to the air and had a big lead on them, Lynn shifted to her panther form and in just a few strides narrowed the distance between her and Charlotte. R.E.D had kept pace with Lynn, an advantage of being an Exemplar and having long legs. Tim was long gone, he’d gotten boosted by Charlotte and zipped off without any discussion.

Lynn arrived at what was left of the school’s gates, shifting back to human form. R.E.D came to a halt beside her while Charlotte floated a few feet overhead. An older man inside the guardhouse called to them, warning them that students needed to stay back.

Flambé took off her heavy gloves throwing them aside and yanked the dishevelled gates from off their posts, tossing the useless hunks of metal down to the ground, then she brushed her hands satisfied with the results. Arthur went back inside the guardhouse, he’d done as he’d needed, and was required to do. From his estimation Mrs. Carson could use the support.

 Marcus stood up inside the van cringing with pain from jostling his shoulder, but his curiosity won out, so he carefully looked outside throughout the drivers side window, keeping his right arm pressed against his body. A short distance away were some men who looked like Roman legionnaires, they stood locked into an aggressive posture with spears pointing forward - sticking out ahead of interlocked shields awaiting trouble.

 True to historical form, they each had a short sword fastened to one hip, one hand holding the spear while the other arm hoisted the large rectangular shield. The clothes held to how ancient portrayals described them; bright red cloth, but instead of the old heavy polished plate metal armour, these soldiers had coverings made of grey composite materials, more akin to modern police ballistic protection, and oddly enough looking like hockey equipment.

 Although the soldiers wore helmets with some face protection, Marcus was certain that each of them looked identical. It was disorienting to hear them speak, since they each sounded the same. Marcus surmised it was a Multiplier who had separated to create an army, it was anyones guess who was in charge.

Marcus turned to see how the Were’s faired, only to watch as the lion rushed at the black panther landing a devastating blow sending the smaller cat rolling in the dirt. The lion roared and pounced upon the downed panther, bringing slash after slash upon its foe. The panther managed to slip under the lion and rake its underside with a long painful swipe making the lion jump back. The lion was so much larger than the panther, but the panther was staying the course, each had inflicted heavy damage, but the panther was outmatched.

The lion circled his prey, his hind leg twitching from a well placed bite, the panther was winded and drew in ragged breaths, the lion wasn’t foolish enough to let his enemy rest, he was looking for the most vulnerable place to attack as he rounded the panther again, then jumped at the black panther’s rear, a crunch was heard as bones snapped. The lion stood overtop the spent panther, preparing to sink its teeth into the black cats throat when a second panther rammed into its side, a hit that sent both of the apex predators tumbling.

The lion shook off the sudden strike, stumbling briefly before lowering its head and growling to begin anew a fight of dominance with its new black foe. It hunched up to let fly a roar to assert its displeasure at the interference and frighten off the interfering newcomer.

The second black panther aligned itself to face the lion head-on, not deterred by the show of strength presented by the larger almost golden coloured feline.  The lion paced closer, stalking the panther who had stepped in to insert itself between the lion and the downed panther.

Marcus could almost see the shock in the lions eyes when the second black panther grew to four times its previous size, incisor fangs distending down to a fearful ten inch length, and claws extending to six inch long blades that dug into the earth underfoot.

The lion turned tail to run, but before it could escape the sabre-tooth Were-panther gave the lion’s hind quarters a swat that sent it spinning, causing it to roll several times before it righted itself and took off as fast as its legs could carry it, with a tail firmly tucked underneath.

The Were-panther turned her attention to the bear, still struggling to find a means to get rid of the badger latched onto its neck, it stumbled about in an effort to free itself of the unrelenting menace. The panther strode up behind the occupied bear and let fly a deep roar that shook the bear to its core.

The bear was demoralized to such an extent that it lost bowel control, leaving a brown streak behind it as it fled into the woods.

The tiger too, hearing the monstrous roar, lay down in surrender, but when the foxes presented the defeated cat an opening it hightailed it in attempt to flee. As it ran away it was harassed by the foxes who nipped at its tail, hastening its retreat. 

A sharp whistle blast drew the Were's attention, two dogs burst from the trees; a doberman and a pittbull raced towards the Were, each trying to out pace the other, barking like crazy as they approached.

The massive sabre-tooth panther turned to snarl at the oncoming dogs. The doberman upon seeing its target dropped its backside into the grass to improve braking, resulting in some serious bum rash. The doberman turned tail and yipped as it returned back to the trees. The pittbull had no qualms about attacking a larger enemy, one its master had sic’d him upon.

A single well placed swat from a huge panther paw sent the dog smashing into the side of a vehicle, it dented the metal panel, leaving the dog stunned and dazed, and in Lynn’s estimation stupider then before.

A man wearing a circus ringmasters costume exited the trees coming into view, he stood aghast at what had transpired, shouting: “My babies, what did you do to my babies.”

It was the foxes who gave chase, running the man up a nearby tree.

 Roche opened his eyes, it surprised him how much that minor a movement hurt, he was an Exemplar / Brick, by rights he shouldn’t have been hurt at all while within his protective brick field, sure he didn’t have it at its peak output but it was up.

 He raised himself from off the ground onto his knees, he had a runny nose and wiped it with his sleeve, as he spotted the streak of blood on his jacket it heightened his awareness, he spat out the wad of phlegm in his mouth, it too was mostly blood. Whatever the blast had been, it wasn’t standard issue ordinance, if it could get through to him - it was devisor grade.

Still woozy from having gotten tossed around, the last thing Al remembered was landing on his head, he had been thrown beyond the large blast crater - a hole easily three feet deep and at least a dozen feet across. Whatever explosive was used, it packed a punch. That bit of information set the man to worry: ‘what about Ken and the kid?’.

Roche looked around trying to find his teammates, the hot looking young blonde security lady was tending to Ken at the fence, good! One less thing to worry about. So where was Cameron? Al couldn’t see him anywhere over by the schools entrance, he needed to stand to be able to see better, it took effort but he got to his feet.

Al Koenig took in his surroundings, the mayhem rendered upon the vehicles was telling, the blasts radius had flipped most of them over. In a heap laying against the underside of one of the vans was Outlook, it didn’t make sense, the kid had been standing beside him near the gate, he should have been thrown toward the school like Ken, not backwards.

Al moved slightly with a ‘huff’, he stretched his back resulting in bones clicking into place and he sighed in relief.  Roche stumbled toward the fallen boy who lay face first against the van, as he got to within a few steps from the van he noticed it had buckled where the boy hit it. However Al froze in his tracks when he heard a shout:

 “Stay away from the boy! We claim his body for the bounty on his head.”

Mrs. Carson took up the mantle of command, just as well thought Roche, let her handle the situation, the Brick’s sole concern was Cameron. As the two began a posturing dispute, Al made very slow movements to get closer to his fallen teammate.

Cameron made small nearly inaudible sounds, he was alive! Al struggled to not rush over to him. But, as a precaution, given the escalating tone of the conversation happening close by between Mrs. Carson and the brute, Roche amped up his Brick field.

Next thing Roche knew, arrows started flying by him. The Exemplar dove landing atop Cameron, the man used his body to protect the boy, ensuring his brick field surrounded the both of them. Al could tell many objects hit his field, not from them making contact against him but from the sound they made when they fell to the ground.

 Al tried not to crush the boy, it was awkward in such close quarters but he managed to roll Cameron over to get a look at his face. The boy was a mess from several lacerations which had bloodied him, his glasses were smashed and added to the cuts he bore.

 “Cameron, come on boy, stay with me now.” Softly spoke Roche into Outlook’s closest ear, fluid dribbled out from it. Al put the back of his hand over Cameron’s mouth and nose, he felt air movement. Al positioned Cameron onto his side into the recovery position to aid his respiration.

 Cameron coughed, followed by some ragged breathes, he wasn’t getting enough air. Roche opened the boy’s mouth, and using a finger cleaned out broken teeth and a large blood clot. Cameron started to breath easier but it was shallow and laboured.

 Roche lost track of all else, he didn’t pay attention to what was happening around him - it wasn’t as important as what he was doing, ensuring Cameron lived. Fortunately he could center his focus exclusively upon Cameron, with both of them being cocooned within a Brick field. As long as another bomb like the last one wasn’t fired at them. 

 The Were where busy on the far side of the vehicles - making one heck of a ruckus. He’d noticed two well armed men a few steps behind the big guy, they each had what looked like modified shotguns, they’d been the ones to fire that bomb.

What baffled Al was the Roman soldiers, they had remained back some, near the last car in the convoy. They had formed ranks and stood side by side linking shields making a wall.

 Mrs. Carson stared in shock at the short arrow protruding from her shoulder, it took a couple heartbeats before the pain hit, she fought to quell the scream her body sought to release.

The crossbow bolt sticking into her shoulder vibrated ever so slightly, it was imbedded  deeply but regardless Liz reached for its hilt and pulled it out, the tearing flesh had her bite her lip for the added agony it caused.

Orion laughed, the bastard. As Elizabeth had been distracted, Orion had fired several bolts at Cameron. A quick glance behind let her know the boy was being protected by the RCMP Brick.

 Lady Astarte gathered an amount of essence and cast a spell of incapacitation, it was akin in effect to a taser, but the light show accompanying it was something to see, it lit up a skeleton like a candle inside a paper lantern and made the recipient shudder violently before they passed out.

Over the years it had proven to be an effective weapon in the mages arsenal, unfortunately Orion sidestepped the spell so it headed off past the big guy, striking a tree making an explosion resulting in the tree falling onto the roadway. 

 “Come come, Miss Miracle, you’ll have to do better than that,” ridiculed the high rated Exemplar. “If that’s the sort of thing you teach your students here, they should get their money back.”

He let fly another bolt, this one Elizabeth caught and as quick as she could she threw it back at the laughing man, he merely batted it away before he let loose another shot. This time it slipped through and struck her in the abdomen, it hit something serious since she had to gasp at the wave of nausea it inflicted. Blood spilled out of the wound as she pushed her hand against her stomach to staunch the flow.

The Headmistress stood her ground, not willing to give an inch in her determination. She worked a nasty little spell that would encase the recipient within a whirlwind, it tended to pull the air out of a persons lungs and could in some cases rend limbs. That fact didn’t deter the mage at this point.

This one hit its mark and a tight wind spun Orion lifting him into the air, rotating him violently until he was ejected out of the mini tornado and left sprawled on the ground. He lifted himself up and began to laugh even harder, saying: “That was fun, do it again!”

 Elizabeth in her current condition couldn’t go head to head against the Exemplar, on a better day certainly, but her injuries now made for too many weaknesses he could exploit, exactly the reason he had done what he did by firing distracting arrows.

Her best option was greater distance, but that also left her open to ranged attacks. Orion knew it too, and that’s why he was now preparing a full length arrow in his long bow. As Orion was nocking the arrow, the two Harper brothers took up positions beside him.

From behind Elizabeth a streak of red lightning snapped past her, it’s passing made the hair on her head tingle from the discharge of high energy. The fractured lightning struck Orion’s bow setting it aflame in a sudden burst of fire.

Orion cursed at the situation since one of the lightning arcs had also hit his bicep and scorched his flesh. The exemplar threw his bow away and patted his arm which smoked but wasn’t on fire. He then proceeded to prepare another shot with his crossbow saying:

“Dumb move girly, You should have stayed away.”

“What, and miss all the fun!” Taunted Flambé.

“You want to play? Happy to oblige.” Sneered Orion as he pointed his crossbow at her and fired.

A wind brushed passed the Headmistress, her hair flew into her eyes and a minor vacuum stole her breath. She watched as Orion’s shiny crossbow bolt stopped mid-flight and disappeared from her sight. It reappeared jabbed into Orions right hand, a blur surrounded the man as it looked as if he was getting slapped repeatedly. The Exemplar bellowed when he had two of his own crossbow bolts jabbed into each foot, penetrating all the way through his sandals into the ground underfoot.

“Promises, promises,” chided Flambé. “All I ever hear are empty promises.” The Energizer raised her right arm, formed her hand into a circle so all her fingers and thumb pointing at Orion and a jolt of intense power leapt out. An eye searing flash of five streaks of red lightning, one a piece from each fingertip, danced and twisted around until striking Orion in the chest.

Orion shook where he stood with his feet grounding him through the impaling metal crossbow bolts, his body convulsing as he was electrocuted. His clothing smouldered and melted at spots before it burst into flames as the high voltage blast continued, the intersection of the white cross on Orion’s chest making a perfect target. It continued until his very skin was on fire.

Orion’s agonized yell gained a few octaves as the sustained lightning like discharge fried him to the core. The Harper brothers loaded canisters into their rifles and brought them to bear upon the interfering red headed girl, anything to stop her, anything to get twenty million bucks. The one gun, the one in Dwayne’s hands, exploded as it miss fired, a crossbow bolt had been wedged into the gun’s barrel preventing it from shooting the large cylindrical canister that looked like an oversized beer can on a stick.

The canister’s explosion released a noxious green gas cloud that redoubled in size every few seconds, the cloud quickly enveloped Dwayne Harper, he began coughing and wheezing. Overwhelmed by the concentrated gas before he could don the gas mask hung around his neck, the Devisor dropped to his knees then he passed out and fell over onto his side, a victim of his own cleverness.

Stefan had the benefit of a couple feet distance from the gas’s release, just enough time for him to get his gas mask in place before the green cloud moved in to encircle him. He stepped out of the obscuring cloud and discharged his gun trying to target the fast moving blur.

Stefan’s shot went wide, the canister lofted through the air purposelessly, nowhere close to his intended target. The canister let off a big flash followed by an explosion, nothing close in comparison to the impact to the very first canister they’d lobed. He wasn’t foolish enough to be near one of those going off.

Stefan decided to aim for an easier target; the red head, he loaded up an acid canister, a nasty piece of work he and his brother had concocted in their lab. When testing them the acid had eaten through three inches of plate steel. ‘The girl wanted to play? Let’s see how much fun she’ll have with this’. Stefan fired his gun.

R.E.D. was a little behind and just to the side of Mrs. Carson. The gun was most certainly pointed at her, unlike a bullet when fired, the canister traveled at a discernible speed, perhaps faster that a thrown ball but slow enough to trace its trajectory. The Energizer girl dove out of the way when a voice in her head warned her of the incoming danger.

As the canister sailed past Mrs. Carson she swatted at it, her swinging arm smacking it downward and away. The canister’s housing burst when contacted, the acid spraying outward. The majority of the potent chemicals spread dispersed aimlessly, hitting the ground, the portion of the acid that landed upon the headmistress immediately began to burn.

The devisor enhanced acid’s chemical reaction was akin to a weapon of mass destruction, it was merciless and devastating. Even if it had just been a drop or two, the acid devoured anything it contacted. Mrs. Carson had it land on her right arm, upon her face, and down her right leg. It chewed up cloth, skin, and hair. Elizabeth’s scream only ended when consciousness left her.

Swift in a flurry grabbed at every pin, lever and button on the canisters strapped to Stefan Harpers body. Tim moved away from the man as he began to sense the impending danger he was in, as the gadgets began making popping and hissing noises. Stefan began to discard the bandoliers off his shoulders and tossed them as far as he could, then he unclipped all the tricks secured to his belt and threw them away as well.

The lightning blast that hit his stomach sent his teeth chattering as he spasmed violently. When his helmet flew off his head, his hair burst into flames - a lesson for those who use oil based hair care products. He screamed as he patted his head with his gloved hands, and he made a run for it. A badger made an impressive intercept knocking him down, to then bite down on his nose. Stefan squealed like a pig as he rolled around on the gravel road.

R.E.D approached Mrs. Carson as she lay on the ground, half her body smoked from the still burning acid. R.E.D hoped the woman was unconscious, no one should have to suffer that much pain.

Flambé called aloud: “Swift!” And a second time, louder “SWIFT!”

Tim came to a standstill beside her, saying: “Did you see that?” He was bleeding from some long cuts on his torso, but he hadn’t complained about them even though the blood was soaking his clothes.

R.E.D. needed him to focus, she needed his help, Mrs. Carson needed his help.

“Tim, find water. Douse Mrs. Carson with it to neutralize the acid. Get her to Doyle.

Offended at being ordered around, he protested “Why don’t you do it?”

 “Because I can’t touch her, I’d just make it worse.” Flambé explained almost in tears, wriggling the fingers of her glowing red hands as an extreme amount of heat poured off them.

 “Alright, I’ll do it.” Acquiesced Swift, one second he was there, then not, then he was back again. He held bottles of water in his arms, as many as he could carry. Opening them he poured them out onto the schools headmistress until she was soaked.

 Meanwhile, Flambé had returned to the fight, a whole squadron of roman soldiers bore down on her. She let fly a blistering display of lightning strikes, halting the progress of the soldiers holding up large rectangular shields. The lightning struck the shields, the energy output crackling loudly, as shields in the row began to melt from the heat generated, a soldier would wink out of existence once the damage was too great, only to be replaced by another soldier filling the vacant spot.

The line of soldiers were almost completely harmonized in their movements, they marched shoulder to shoulder in their forward progression, but had been stymied under Charlotte’s unorthodox attacks. Now R.E.D. was able to assist the airborne girl by hurling twisted lighting at them.

Flambé shouted to Tim: “Leave, now! We’ve got this covered.”

The teenage boy struggled to lift the injured heroine, he couldn’t run carrying her, but managed to get her across no man’s land and past the school’s destroyed gates.

Rachel stayed out of the fray, she tried to assist where she could by mentally alerting those in harms way of potential danger, but she was no fighter, she felt useless.

Tim was having a hard time holding onto Mrs. Carson, Rachel offered to help and took half of the woman’s weight by putting Mrs. Carsons other arm over her shoulder so they could carry the headmistress between them. The lady moaned often as her head lolled about, the twins took it as a good sign at which they picked up the pace.

Rachel and Tim had gotten a distance into the school proper when a medi-cart met them and Mrs. Carson was transferred to a stretcher, a medic began checking her over, the cart’s driver looked at Tim, who’s blood soaked clothes had the woman direct him onto the cart as well.

Rachel stood in a quandary, alone now on the gravel driveway, she was torn, follow Tim or go back and look after Charlotte, and R.E.D., and … Her question of what to do was answered, Rachel ran back to the school’s entrance.

 With caution Rachel peeked around Whateley Academy’s tall stone fence, to size up what had happened during the brief time she was away. Hoping that her younger sister was okay.

 Swift, Aware and Flambé had been the first to arrive at the school’s entrance, Lynn’s briefing had been very brief, Alan her brother needed help and she darted to his side barely giving any details to the rest of them.

Swift for his part, had taken it upon himself to lend aid speeding off without much of a plan, leaving Rachel to caution her little sister about this dangerous group hellbent on capturing Cameron, obviously having no regard for anyone who got in the way. Being in the way was exactly where the five friends had decided they needed to be.

Rachel knew she wasn’t much use in hand to hand combat, something she had resolved to correct after observing the self defence classes at Whateley. Perspicuous was best suited to being a behind the scene player - for now, so she would guide the others telepathically and run interference where she could.

Charlotte had wanted to jump in and bust some heads, okay - she had the strength to do that sort of thing, but it was the wrong attitude, all heart and no head lead to disastrous results. It was a good tradeoff when Flambé suggested they confront the Romans together.

Excelle agreed to lift the Energizer girl who used her jacket as a sling to prevent burns, she was carried over the destroyed gates and crater that a bomb had made, dropped her behind the headmistress who was engaging a huge man in a fight. Flambé was close to Roche who was crouched over Cameron, while Charlotte headed off into the woods. Excelle had said she wanted a weapon.

Flambé wasted no time in blasting the man Mrs. Carson was fighting, she looked to need the help, wouldn’t you know it, two more goons stepped up supporting Mr. Big. Tim made strafing passes on them, which made frying them so much easier.

Flambé laughed aloud when she saw Charlotte flying back, she carried a tree, not a stick or a branch, an entire tree. It looked like she’d pulled it right out of the ground since dirt was still falling from the roots.

 Once Charlotte was overtop the soldiers who held a tight formation she proceeded to use her tree like a club. Whenever a soldier would raise his head above the shields that they used to make a defensive roof, Charlotte would smack at em like it was game of ‘Whack-a-mole’.

The soldiers huddled even closer for protection, and none would expose themselves anymore, so Excelle changed her tactic. The flight gifted Exemplar started to use her tree as a bludgeon. Charlotte would position herself over a shield, drive the tree straight down like you’d stamp on a bug, and squash the solider - or soldiers underneath.

The soldiers tried to fend her off by pointing their spears up at her, but Excelle was above reach of the spear tips even when extended up as high as a man could reach. A couple of the soldiers attempted throwing those same spears, but only being manifestations once the spear left contact with the reproduction it dissipated to nothingness.

Charlotte began to giggle loudly, she’d determined that once these men had been smacked around enough they popped, like those sheets of packing bubbles when you squeeze them, but the guy would dissipate too - so they where like soap bubbles. Excelle began to plunge her impromptu woodland bludgeon into the huddled soldiers mass as she hummed Hanson’s song ‘MMMbop’, ensuring she thrust down at every bop part of the song.

Even though Charlotte had only really been repeating the MMMbop songs verse over and over, she was certain she’d clobbered a hundred of em by now. They just kept coming! This was becoming tedious.

Excelle was glad when Flambé was able to lend a hand, Flambé would roast em, and she’d toast em, lining them up as she swung her stick like a golf club. It was fun to see them pop-off in mid air, and you got more of them with a swing than just smooshing em one at a time.

 As Flambé continued her attack, the spears that stuck out through the shields like porcupine quills ignited and burned, the wood shafts flared and then burned like matchsticks. Eventually the spears would be discarded by the Legionnaires if the fire moved behind the protective shields.

Soon the ends of short swords poked through the shield barrier, as the wall of soldiers made slow - calculated steps forward.

Flambé didn’t relent with the heat but took it up a couple notches, soon it was swords that began to melt, the heat running up the handles making them so hot the soldiers needed to drop the swords, when it was too much heat to keep holding onto them.

It wasn’t long before the shields also began to melt, the soldiers rotated which ones faced the girl in an attempt to stop the degradation of the old tried and true military unit’s tactics.

 Marcus shouted to Excelle, he was inside one of the vehicles, so she flew closer to speak with him, holding her tree under her arm. A soldier had grabbed onto the tree and had wrapped himself around it. She shook him loose, he dropping to the ground flailing about like he was trying to swim, he didn’t make it.

 “Hi” greeted Charlotte to her foster father.

“Having fun?” Asked Marcus looking up at her from inside the van.

“Oh sure, these guys are great!” Commented the flying girl, using her thumb to point over her shoulder at the legion of men Flambé was still cooking.

“They’re multipliers. They’ll keep coming unless you find the original.” He explained.

“Which one’s the original?”

“That’s the tricky part, he makes identical copies of himself, so you can’t tell them apart.”

 “Figures. Do I keep hitting them until I find the guy?”

“How’s that been working for you so far?”

“Kay I suppose. Hold on, Rachel says she’ll find him and point him out to me.”

Rachel asked her friends to get ready, she was going to try and upset the situation with a little mental persuasion. The telepath sent out a searing mental barrage, it would feel like a full bore migraine headache to the unfortunate receiver.

It was an unexpected result that speaks to a multipliers ability, for them to act together they have a link to the original - following his lead. The converse is, when they all felt the migraine it carried back along those linking lines from the copies, magnifying it.

When a solitary man near the back of the Legion was the first to grab his head, followed by an agonizing scream which peeled out from the group of men, to soon be followed suit by all the soldiers, all of them dropped everything else and grabbing their heads.

 R.E.D. let ripe a long stream of lightning that expanded outward jumping from one soldier to the next, leapfrogging through the entire assembly. The sound was like a popcorn maker on overload, as a third of the mock army disappeared.

 Charlotte swept in from above and clocked the first man hard. The Roman soldiers dissipated in a wave from that man outward, leaving just the single man remaining, laid out flat on the ground.

Doyle Medical Centre

 Cameron heaved a big sigh of relief, sure he hurt, and it could have gone much worse. The doctor said he had a broken nose, broken cheekbone, and a cracked jaw, about what you’d expect for having crashed face first into a vehicle.

The missing teeth, the swollen lips and black eyes added to Cameron’s overall soreness. Being wheeled into a private recovery room would now grant Cameron time to effect some self healing, he’d been in such a daze he didn’t even recall arriving at Doyle. Healing himself had become second nature, so Cameron let his thoughts wander. He really needed to thank his friends for having saved his life, the frequency and severity of the threats to himself had become intolerable. If it hadn’t been for his friends … that it had come to needing others help to ensure his safety worried him.

 Anyone around him was in danger, he was a danger to those nearest to him. How long before his friends got threatened again as a means to get to him? Why did having friends become a weakness that could be exploited? Did it mean Cameron would have to walk away from everyone he cared about - to keep them safe?

 Maybe the pain was to blame, in part anyways, because he was crying. Tears tracked down his tender face which he had to be careful about when wiping them away. It hadn’t taken all that much time or effort to fix all the damage, still, a couple days rest would do wonders. Cameron lay back, letting the soft pillows comfort his worried mind and take away the burden of carrying a way to heavy head, his mind was on the verge of sleep when his hospital room’s door opened. Lynn peeked in, smiled at him and slipped into the room letting the door close quietly behind her.

Lynn dragged the room’s chair over near to the bed, and she sat in the chair after nestling her legs underneath herself.

 “So,” she began. “The gang wants to know how come you got blasted, and thrown into a vehicle? Cause, you can like, protect yourself and all. It doesn’t make sense.”

“The gang? You guys have made a gang?”

“Jealous?”

“No … well maybe. Wha’dya you call yourselves?”

“We haven’t settled on a name, thought about the ‘Snack Pack’ cause we’ve got so many hungry stomaches between us. Just didn’t feel right till we could all vote on it.”

 "Hmm, it’s got a ring to it. Who eats the most?”

”R.E.D. is a bottomless pit, Charlotte never seems satisfied either.”

“And?”

“I have a very high metabolism, I need to eat a lot of calorties so it means healthy meals often.”

“How often?”

“Four a day, six if I shift a lot.”

“I’d say you shouldn’t draw attention to a potential weakness, and consider a name that inspires instead.”

“Such as?”

“I dun know, how’s about Aurora Borealis?”

“Not a bad suggestion, but Northern Lights doesn’t sound as pretentious. Now, back to my question, you can’t evade me that easily.”

“I had to make a choice.”

“Go on.”

“I could have sucked Whateley’s shields dry when I was tossed into them,  but Mrs. Carson had been rather peeved at me from before, when I’d left them defenceless. So when the two dissimilar forces reacted negatively, it resulted in my getting repelled.”

 “You chose to get repelled?”

 “I decided to let Whateley keep themselves protected, since I didn’t know what the driving factor behind the attack was.”

 “You took all the risk upon yourself?”

 “When you put it like that …”

 “How else am I supposed to put it. You always assume only you can face danger - all by yourself, you don’t share the load or let anyone else help you. You and me, if we’re going to be a couple, you have to learn to trust me - at least a little, to have your back.”

 “I never wanted to burden anyone else.”

“That’s not what being a team is about.”

 “You’re already part of a team.”

“Is that what you’re sour about? That your friends had the gaul to make a team without asking you? If you must know, we’re hoping you’ll step up and be our captain.”

“I’m happy you’ve come together, really. Gelled as friends and all. But?”

“But what?”

“Teams at Whateley are all about learning how to inflict the maximum amount of damage.”

Lynn sat quiet for a moment, staring at the boy with her penetrating green eyes before saying: “I’m sure there are some here who do that. But there’s others that just want to learn how to use their abilities effectively, to not hurt themselves or others. It takes practice to gain mastery over a mutation. Whateley is providing a safe place and knowledgeable instructors to help kids learn control.”

“R.E.D.” intoned Cameron.

“Yes R.E.D. Her hands get so hot anything she touches could ignite, she has to figure out how to live in a world that isn’t fireproof. Rhododendron has already learned a lot at Whateley.”

“She lets you call her that?”

 “We share a room, she’s really clever and very sweet. She’s having a hard time dealing with her huge growth spurt, and having to wear gloves all the time adds to how clumsy she feels.” 

 “Anything else?”

“Yes, Charlotte, for one.”

“Has she outgrown ‘My Little Pony’ yet?”

“No, but she can bench press a bus. It’s like she has two sides to her, one gentle while the other has an angry streak a mile wide. Rachel worries that she won’t find balance and - well, become like her Dad.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, nobody is free from carrying baggage around,” conceded Lynn. “Even me.”

“Care to share?”

“Seeing the future isn’t fun and games. People always ask me what tomorrow will bring? If I tell them, they’ll just keep coming back for more, until they won’t even think for themselves anymore. I’d become their security blanket, preventing them from making mistakes and living for themselves. I can’t do that - not if I want to stay sane.”

“Sanity is overrated,” humoured Cameron, earning him a smile - although small and against the girl’s better judgement.

 “And then there’s you.” Lynn added, building her case.

“I know I’m not perfect.”

“But you try to be. And pardon my being blunt, but it’s killing you,” confided Lynn.

“Listen to her Cameron,” confirmed a sharp dressed man who mysteriously appeared at the closed door. “You cannot be more than who you are.”

“Who are you?” Asked a startled Lynn, her Were senses hadn’t alerted her to his arrival.

“Lynn, meet my mentor,” informed Cameron.

“Do you have a name?” Quizzed the uncertain girl.

“Certainly, but it is not shared. In the scheme of things I am not important,” was advised. 

“Okay, what’s this scheme about?” Sought Lynn.

“You of all people should appreciate not receiving an answer to that question.”

“Oh! Sorry. Old habit I need to break,” admitted Lynn.

“Cameron, The young lady is correct, It is of no practical use and detrimental if others continue seeking your demise. You are henceforth permitted to defend yourself in whatever means you deem necessary, short of inflicting death - that is reserved for final judgement.”

“Thank you. I’d hoped I wouldn’t need to resort to harming people, but it seems that deterrents are all that some people understand.”

“It is sad that so many cannot learn without use of a rod to beat sense into them. Use this additional freedom with caution.”

“I will.”

“Now to the next bit of business. Cameron, you are to remain at Whateley. Your presence here has uncovered multitudes of affronts, more attention is warranted.”

“How? I’ve worn out my welcome here.”

“Figure something out. However, you should know. A bounty has been placed upon those who’ve sought your head, it should turn attention away from you - for a time.”

“Thanks, I guess,” responded Cameron, perplexed by why news always came in a mixture of good and bad.

“Make the best of the situation.” Advised the man as he waved farewell over his turned back as he walked into the closed door vanishing from sight.

“Well, that was interesting,” offered Lynn, a touch baffled at the revelation.

“Always is. Looks like I’ve got a few knots to try and unravel.”

“About that, I need to apologize.”

“Why?”

“I told you once that you weren’t the Golden Eyed Man. I lied.”

 “What? Wait. Were can’t lie.”

 “I’m a Precog, I see the future, all of it - the good and the bad. If I had to tell the truth to people all the time I’d die inside, that I have to see them getting hurt and their deaths doesn’t mean I want to tell them about it. So I lie, not often, but yes I can lie. It’s something to do with my families bloodline.”

 “I’m sorry you have to deal with so much suffering.”

“I thought you should know that you’re not the only one who carries a burden.”

"I appreciate knowing,” sounded out Cameron at Lynn’s opening up about herself, a truth that she hadn’t hinted at before.

“Also, I didn’t want you to feel trapped, that you had no choice over what was happening. That you were being forced to be with me.”

“As I see it, who better to be with? You’re a guy in a girl’s body, and I’m a girl trying to be a boy. All things considered, we’re a great match.” 

“Just don’t change who you are and we’ll be fine,” conceded Lynn, without hinting if it was foreseen or just wishful thinking. “When you’re able, Allan could use your help.”

“What happened?”

“His spine is broken, he’s paralyzed from the hips down.”

“Will he heal?”

“Eventually - maybe. The nerve damage might not ever heal. Were’s can recover from most anything, but this could be a game changer for him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For putting him in a position where he sacrificed so much for my sake.”

“Don’t you dare belittle him by blaming yourself for what happened. Allan would do anything for you, he feels he owes you his life. In fact that’s how most of your friends feel about you.”

“Not helping.”

“It’s true. You might not realize it, while you’re busy pursuing all that’s evil lurking in the shadows. But you are a bright light in many peoples’ lives, maybe the only bit of sunshine for some.”

“Is it for you?”

“Yes. Of all the paths I’ve traced, yours is one of the very few that didn’t end in a black morass.”

“I’ll join you right away. I need to put some decent clothes on first.”

 “Actually, Allan can wait awhile, he’s at least stable for now. You should take care of Ken first, he’s in critical care.”

“Who else?”

“Mrs. Carson’s in bad shape too. Oh, and the bozo’s who attacked you got roughed up some.”

“Could you find Dr. Ophelia Tenant while I get changed? I’ll need her help running interference with the hospital staff.”

“She’s Allan’s doctor, I’ll get her for you.”

“Thanks.”

 “Cameron, should you be out of bed? Your chart lists you having some nasty injuries. Who attended to you? You don’t look hurt.”

“I took care of them myself.”

“Really, you better let me take a look at you,” requested Ophelia. “Just bloody amazing, not even a scratch. Alrighty, if you’re up to it, I’ve some patients who could use your assistance.”

“I had hoped you’d let me see Ken Tallman first, he’s a friend, perhaps my best friend.”

“His prognosis isn’t very good. We’ve done as much magical healing as we could for him, I’m completely tapped out. Doyle’s efforts have been divided between him and the headmistress. He’s got a long road to recovery, the skeletal damage alone is extensive, we helped with the internal injuries some, as much as we could.”

“Can you spare some time to take me to him?”

 “I’m on dinner break, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Ken was in a drug induced sleep, the air tube running into his nose hissed away and the heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. His upper body was immobilized by a body cast that kept his shoulders stationary. His limbs were strung up in traction harnesses, both arms in casts and extended outwards at near right angles from his body.

Cameron sat on the side of the bed and began the process of rebuilding shattered bones, most of the man’s body had already been realigned, but the damage wrought had been severe. It was a most heartbreaking puzzle for Cameron to piece together, who despite the welling up of tears never took his eyes off his friend.

There was no visible ailment to the man when Cameron stood up. It was in a way a let down, no big flourish like a showman might conclude a performance with, but Cameron didn’t like making a display - as if helping people required fanfare.

Instead Cameron said: “I recommend leaving the casts in place for now, it will allow his muscles to rest and the swelling to go down. When he wakes up, please take X-rays to ensure his bones have set properly. Who’s next?”

Allan Franklin lay stretched out in bed, it seemed uncomfortable since it looked like he was on a torture rack. The weighted lines had been employed by the hospital to keep his lower limbs aligned and immobile. I took a long time for Cameron to reconnect all the damaged nerves, but Lynn kept her brother busy in conversation to allow Cameron to stay focused. 

Ophelia Tenant took him into a room with a security guard posted outside, warning the boy that this was one of the men who’d orchestrated the attack. The room’s guard was leery about giving the boy access, vengeance can be an ugly thing, not something Whateley Academy openly endorses. 

Orion lay restrained on the heavy duty bed, it too was affixed to the floor. When dealing with high level Exemplars very few facilities were equipped to handle them, Doyle was one of those few.

The large man was bandaged up like a mummy, the smell of burn ointment lingering in the air, along with the unmistakable stink of roast flesh. He had an arm in a cast - someone had been busy with plaster, his other arm and both legs had been handcuffed.

He saw the three enter his room and barked at them: “What do you want?”

 “What I want isn’t important, what you need is more to the point.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“If that’s the case, then we’ll be on our way,” concluded Cameron, he wasn’t going to force the man to accept his help 

“Outlook, the hippocratic oath demands we treat the ill to the best of one’s ability,” admonished Ophelia, the doctor was unwilling to walk away from a patient. 

“I appreciate your position, but I am not a doctor. I’ve never sworn to provide health care.”

“But you’ve been helping others,” postulated the doctor.

“To those who are willing to accept it. It seems improper to render aid to someone who doesn’t wish it. Especially when that person has foregone concern over others wellbeing.”

“You can’t pick and chose who needs your help.” 

 “That is a commendable ideal doctor, one that I wish all men adhered too, how nice it would be to treat everyone as a brothers.”

“You don’t have it in your heart to forgive?”

“Forgiveness requires remorse, an indicator that acknowledges a wrong has been committed. This man would zealously redo his actions or worse - he’s learned nothing. He’s not worthy of redemption.”

“You can tell all that by looking at him?”

 “If you doubt it, ask him,” suggested Cameron as he ensured the man looked him in the eyes, the uncovered golden glow adding light to the room’s otherwise subdued lighting. 

 “Why did you attack Whateley?” Asked the doctor.

“Our target was the boy, this school’s just a known haunt for him,” answered Orion.

“Why target him?”

 “We were sanctioned by the Order of the White Cross and blessed by a priest, we’re carrying out God’s work.”

“I doubt that’ll sway a judge.”

“The task was worthy, and the money was good, that’s all I needed. Besides this will never go to trial.”

“Your so sure?”

“Absolutely, we act above the law - doing the Lord’s work, no court would dare hear our case. You should know better than to hold me prisoner, release me.”

“You’re only handcuffed as a precaution, you represent a danger to yourself. If you stress those injuries, no amount of healing or surgery will erase the scars.”

“All of you are guilty in front of the Lord and shall be held accountable.” He screamed as he flailed around wildly.

“‘Man’s anger does not bring about God’s righteousness.’ If this is God’s work as you say, then God must want your disfigurement as visible proof of his disgust. Tell your masters this: ‘Any who come after me from this point forward will forfeit a part of themselves,’” pronounced Cameron. “Show them those scars as proof if they doubt the truth of it.” 

 Ophelia was reticent about bringing Cameron in to see the headmistress, Cameron had made the rounds through Doyle, he’d taken care of Marcus’ broken collar bone, Al’s concussion, the couple of deep cuts Timothy had acquired when approaching Cohort’s battalion. And he’d tended to the banged up and bruised police officers assigned as an escort. He’d even gone so far as to heal the other attackers who’d been with Orion, as long as they had been agreeable to his help.

 But Mrs. Carson was in worse shape than those others, the confrontation with Orion had shaken Ophelia’s trust in the boy. She was concerned that Cameron might lash out at the oman, who was in no condition to defend herself. The headmistress had been slipping in and out of consciousness, a dose of devisor made sedatives helping to keep her pain levels manageable.

Acid burns covered forty percent of her body, her right arm had been etched right down to bone, amputation was being considered as an option if magical healing couldn’t restore her flesh better than it had so far. Her face was only a glimmer of her former beauty, her hair and skin had melted on her right side, with large acid splotches having eaten away most else. Muscle and tendons, and sections of bone still showing.

Ophelia cautioned Cameron about her appearance before entering.

Cameron long ago had become accustomed to seeing the inner workings of the human body so he didn’t flinch at seeing the woman’s disturbing appearance. He didn’t balk with rendering help either, just stood close by and began to weave newly made sinew into muscle, lacing blood vessels and veins through them. The layers of skin he built upon were rosy pink. Hair follicles got restored and enhanced, taking some of the woman’s long golden locks and attaching them to the bald spots on her head.

A bold new haircut would be needed to balance out the uneven look of her hair, or she could wear a wig until it grew in. But she looked very much like she always did, make-up could cover the colour imperfection between the new baby like skin and her … old face.

The crossbow bolt injuries also got treated, the puncture wounds closed over with no sign a hole having pierced flesh, and any internal damage was repaired.

Cameron stepped back, raising his eyes to Ophelia, asking her: ”If there’s no one else, I’m tired and need sleep.”

 Cameron sat at the table in Doyle’s small cafeteria, a few of the small tables had been moved together so the group of friends could sit together. The cafeteria had a tiny buffet with plates of food coming from a kitchen somewhere else on campus. Lynn had arranged for everyone to eat together, most of them already having been discharged from Doyle, really just Cameron and Ken waiting for the doctors to sign off on releasing them.

Charlotte sat eating her sixth kabob, it was like an eating contest between her and R.E.D. who was gorging on a deep bowl of Minestrone soup. Lynn had fish, pan seared in butter with onions and loving it. Everyone else had small samples of the variety of foods offered which filled their plates.

Marcus, who sat beside Cameron, started the conversation: “Grace wanted to say Hi, and said that anytime any of you wanted to come for a visit to Prince George, you’d be welcome.”

Cameron felt a twinge of homesickness, not something he’d had issue with recently. But just hearing Grace’s name made him miss her, an empty pit opened in his heart. “I should come visit, I think a vacation is in order.”

“I think we’re all ready to head home,” added Al Koenig. “I’m just about out of holiday days.”

“How about you Ken? Any plans?” Asked Cameron.

“Veronique is heading back to Ottawa, she got promoted and will be working from the capital.”

“You and she? Are you guys..?” Asked a hopeful Cameron.

“We went on a couple dates, there could be something there,” mused Ken with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Chase her and don’t let her out of your sight,” advised Marcus. “If you love her that is.”

“How do you know if it’s love?” Said Ken in almost a whisper.

“Love is a matter of the heart, it isn’t something the mind needs to be convinced of,” counselled Roche.

“Say’s the single man,” quipped Ken.

“I’ll know love when I find it,” Roche assured the man.

“He’s keeping an eye on my aunt, I think it’s why he hangs around my family so much,” confided R.E.D.

“You value my training so little?” Mocked Roche.

“She asked about you, by the way. Before we left home,” replied R.E.D to goad him.

“Really?” Perked up an intrigued Al.

Cameron asked of Lynn; “What’s become of your brother?”

 “He and Ella have been spending time with the Medawihla and looking after Fill, her Dad has been in meetings every day since the battle out front.” Informed Lynn, eyeing up what everyone else had on their plates. “Is that pasta dish any good?” She asked of Rachel.

“Delightful, I’d be happy eating this everyday,” admitted Rachel.

“About that,” interrupted Cameron speaking up to the whole table. “I want to make an open invitation to anyone who wants to attend Whateley. I’ve had my issues with this place, but that shouldn’t prevent you from getting the education you need. I’m willing to foot the bill if you want to come here for schooling.”

Everyone sat wide eyed as they all looked at the boy, trying to discern if he was serious.

Rachel spoke first “We’ve talked about it, the few Psychic lessons I’ve taken have been really good for me. Tim has gotten much better at maneuvering while at speed. And we all think Charlotte needs special training to handle her abilities. But we hadn’t come to a conclusion yet, we wanted to know what you guys thought.”

“I too am thinking the training I can get here is what I need,” confided R.E.D. as she glanced at her hands before seeking her companions approval, receiving nods of agreement from the grown-ups.

“How about you Lynn?” Sought Cameron, looking at her giving his head a slight tilt.

“I have issues with being close to the Medawihla, but I need to stop isolating myself all the time and make some real friends,” sheepishly smiled the girl. “You guys will do.” Lynn looked down at her lap before continuing: “It’s gonna be a Battle Royale to convince Mom to let me go.”

“What about you?” Asked Charlotte, pointing a picked clean and thoroughly gnawed upon kabob skewer at Cameron.

Cameron looked at the eager faces around the table before saying: “I’ll attend if a way can be found to let me stay. Let’s just say Whateley and I aren’t on the friendliest of terms.”

 Elizabeth Carson opened her eyes to see sunshine streaming in through the window, it brought a smile to her still sore face, but seeing all the bouquets of flowers amassed on every surface, and how the room smelled fantastic from all the floral arrangements spread about the hospital room, she felt good.

She had so few bandages that it surprised her, actually waking up surprised her. But she knew just how good the staff at Doyle were. Still, even miracle workers had limits.

Elizabeth lay there, she couldn’t remember ever feeling such an overwhelming tiredness before.

The chief of her medical staff knocked on the slightly ajar door before letting himself in.

“There’s a horde of well-wishers wanting to see you, I’ve held them off, but I’m hard pressed to deny the one who is responsible for your impressive recovery.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Cameron Burke.”

“That’s unexpected.”

“Shall I show him in?”

“Not alone.”

“I understand, Sam Everhart is with him, she hasn’t let him out of her sight.”

“Alright.” Conceded the headmistress.

The doctor exited and seconds later a gentle tap on the door announced her visitor.

“Come in,” she said in less than a heroic voice.

“Mrs. Carson, I won’t take up much of your time. How do you feel?”

“Surprisingly well, I understand you had a hand in that.”

“Admiral Everhart informed me how you stood up for me, sought to protect me. I pay my debts.”

“I care about this school, it’s what I’d do for any of my students.”

“That’s what I had hoped to speak with you about.”

“Go on?”

“My friends, they would like to attend Whateley. Could you find room for them next semester?”

“It can be arranged.”

“Good, I’ll be covering any associated costs.”

“What about you?”

“That is another matter I had hoped to speak with you about.”

The End