A Different Matter Altogether, Part 6

The words sent a shockwave through the boy, and the others inside the vehicle. But it was Cameron who moaned audibly, his vocalized “nooo!” indicative of how deeply upsetting the news was. Cameron’s insides wrenched, while the Jeep lurched forward.

Cameron had feared the worst, that having his associates come to Whateley, how they too could be targeted, because of who he was - what his assignment was. Events proved that his concerns hadn’t been misguided. As sayings go, as they often do, and proved true: “The friend of my enemy is my enemy.”

Ella drove her Jeep hard down the gravel road, coming to a screeching halt with rocks flying in the parking lot closest to Doyle. Cameron was beckoned to rush into Doyle Medical Centre. Lynn called after him, saying: “I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” as she with her brother and Ella … sister-in-law she supposed would be the best moniker to describe the Oberon warrior now, walked over with more decorum.

“We’ll stick around,” offered a visibly concerned Allan Franklin, in a show of compassionate support to his sister.

Lynn smiled at her brother, his concern was endearing, he was going to make a good mate for Ella. Ella for her part, was ready to protect and defend her friends - family. You could see it in how Ella was clenching her fists and was instinctively analyzing their surroundings for threats.

“You should come in and say hi; the gang is gonna love seeing you again,” recommended Lynn. Sometimes a distraction when distressed lightens the moment, knowing that others share your pain. Lynn was certain any friendly face would be welcome.

Stepping into Doyle’s admitting area, they found the members of Northern Lites: R.E.D., Werx, and Max. Cameron had already been taken into Intensive Care, with little more than a wave of greeting to his teammates in the waiting room.

Rho gave Ella a warm hug, while Lynn made introductions for the newcomers: Debbie and Max.

“What happened?” sought Lynn, a question her friends hadn’t expected to come from the Precog.

“Don’t you know?” wondered Deb, it didn’t make sense that she wouldn’t.

“Sorry, no clue,” admitted Lynn, it then struck her that she truly had no inkling whatsoever as to what had transpired, it was like a black hole had swallowed up an entire block of events.

“Tim was found outside Emerson, he’d been hurt - bad,” supplied Rho, hating to be the one to say it out loud, like as though it wasn’t real until someone admitted it.

Lynn hung her head, had she seen this - she would have done something to prevent it. That fact sat heavy on her heart. Allan reached out placing his hand on her shoulder, a gesture saying it wasn’t her fault.

“Is the perpetrator in custody?” questioned Ella, ever the practical one.

“We haven’t been told. Rachelle and Charlotte are in with their brother, it was Rachelle who alerted Whateley that Tim needed help. We don’t know what Security has done about it so far,” detailed Rho.

“Then perhaps Allan and I will go sniff out the scene. No point in us all waiting, I’d rather be doing something useful,” informed Ella. She received nods of acceptance from all present, they too felt similar but didn’t want to drift off and not be there for the team.

“You’re not students, Security won’t like having you wandering around campus,” interjected Deb.

“I have no intention of letting Security see us,” assured Ella over her shoulder as she and Allan walked away.

A red fox and a black-as-night panther stole into the shadows, silently and stealthily, traits of predators on the hunt.

Allan was unfamiliar with Whateley Academy’s grounds, so he followed Ella as she deftly wove her way through the trees and shrub beds that adorned the school, the natural camouflage providing adequate concealment for a nocturnal adventure. Emerson cottage only had one side that faced the trees, it cut down the potential areas for an attack to have taken place.

Both Allan and Ella were proven hunters, with enhanced senses sharp as one might expect of apex predators. With Ella being a fox, a member of the canine family, her sense of smell was unrivalled. Both of them scouted out the site where Tim had been accosted. They sifted through the evidence left behind, scents from three Security / Medics, Rachelle and Charlotte.

But underneath all that, were the unmistakable traces of two others, they came from, and returned to Emerson Cottage, which narrowed down the field considerably. One of them had a fondness for spearmint chewing gum, to mask his bad breath, and used a medicated skin cream that left a pungent smell. The second person excessively used scented hair care products and deodorants, and liked ketchup which left a lingering trace.

Ella might not know what they looked like, but she could easily find them just from their smells. A quick look at Allan, and he too had the trail. Ella paused, something on the wind caught her attention, Allan picked it up too.

A look and a bob of her muzzle told Allan what Ella planned. Allan glided silently through the shadows to the left, Ella darted through the undergrowth to the right. Ella broke through the trees to watch a rabbit move under the cover of an overhanging branch, it sat on its haunches, wide-eyed and attentive to every sound.

Ella moved out into the open, the rabbit’s attention was transfixed on her and it lowered itself down to avoid being seen. Ella ignored the rabbit, choosing instead to stealthily creep across the grassed area nearing Emerson’s front door, illuminated only by a single light posted on the walkway. The fox checked that her targets had entered the Cottage in question.

Allan used a burst of speed plus the cover of darkness to snatch up the rabbit in his jaws, he didn’t use his teeth - only pressed down with his mouth. The rabbit had such a fright that its heart nearly stopped, but it didn’t struggle to escape. Ella joined Allan as he moved further into the dense copse of trees, away from prying eyes.

Allan gently deposited the rabbit on the ground and backed away to give it room. Both Ella and Allan shifted back to human form, as did the rabbit.

“My apologies for the less than courteous introduction,” offered Allan. “We hope you might be able to help us, a friend of ours was attacked recently near here.”

“Swift, yes, we had been told to keep an eye on him,” informed the Were rabbit, he was a few years older than Allan.

“We?” puzzled Ella.

“We; I am one of the Watchers assigned to observe the goings on here at Whateley. Too many times have these humans endangered our home, then attempted to hide their misdeeds from us, flaunting Were rules. The Medawihla have posted Watchers as observers ever since the events of last year.”

“Did you observe the attack upon Swift?” questioned Ella.

“Yes, I reported it back to the tribe already. Is that why you're here?”

“We had been with the Pantheress and the Golden-Eyed man.”

“Aware and Outlook, are they well?”

“They are attending to Swift. What can you tell us of the attack?”

“Swift arrived with two pizzas, both heavily ladened with meat: pepperoni, and salami have got unmistakable aromas. He was only inside for a couple minutes, but he was forcibly dragged outside by two youths, bigger than Swift but they both displayed unnatural strength for their size.”

“Exemplars or Bricks,” deduced Ella.

“Bricks,” added the Were rabbit. “Swift attempted to fight back but his blows fell short. The boy was taken into the trees and beaten viciously. His assailants laughed as they struck him, they enjoyed inflicting pain.”

“You didn’t intercede?”

“Watchers watch, we don’t meddle in the affairs of men unless it impacts the Were.”

“Can you identify who did it?”

“I don’t know them, they’re new students housed in Emerson. One called the other Diesel.”

Lynn sank into one of the chairs, holding her clenched hand against her forehead in an obvious show of dismay.

Rho sat beside her, pressing her shoulder against her friends. At such a moment she hated not being able to touch, to provide simple consolation. But her emotions were in such turmoil her hands nearly glowed crimson.

Lynn sputtered, “I should have known. Why didn’t I know? Of all that Precognition provides, why not this? Of all things - why not be able to protect my friends?”

“It’s not your fault,” expressed Rho. She could never know just how much her roommate saw of the future, but she didn’t blame Lynn for what happened.

“Where’s Cameron?” requested Lynn of her team.

“A nurse took him back, the second he stepped through the doors,” informed Deb. “They’ve only let Rachelle and Charlotte see Tim so far,” detailed Deb of the situation. “Why did they let Cameron in?”

That Deb didn’t know the extent to which Cameron could alter matter wasn’t a surprise, she was new, she hadn’t had a chance to see what all Cameron could do. But Doyle and Cameron had a history, so it wasn’t a shock that they wanted him inside.

“He healed me when I was shot by the MCO,” explained Rhododendron. “I’m sure he’ll be able to help Tim.”

Cameron had been escorted into Trauma Room 1, not his first time in this room, or second, or third for that matter. Standing off to one side were Rachelle and Charlotte, they had both been crying, and Charlotte still had the look of distress that said she might start again any moment. Rachelle bore a more stern look, she’d moved past the initial shock and had entered into an anger fuelled mental zone. The sisters held hands, a sharing of emotion and support between the two.

Speaking to the sisters was Franklin Delarose, ascertaining how Rachelle knew that Tim was in trouble, their whereabouts at the time, the pertinent details to eliminate them as suspects. It was a classic assumption that whoever reported a crime was guilty of it.

Cameron gave a cursory gaze at Timothy lying on the examination table, blitzed on sedatives, and stripped of clothes with only a sterile sheet covering his midsection. Displays monitored his vitals and an IV drip administered a steady dose of morphine. His quick assessment resulted in Cameron emitting an audible “Oye!” at the extent of damage his friend had taken.

“What happened?” asked Cameron.

Delarose created a wall between him and the girls, preventing any interaction between them until his questions got answered.

“Where were you?” the Security Chief demanded, again working under the assumption that everyone was guilty until proven innocent.

“I’ve been off-campus visiting the Medawihla, both Lynn and I. We were informed at the front gate that I was needed at Doyle. I just walked in the door now.”

“When did you leave Whateley?”

“Early this morning, before breakfast. How long ago was Tim hurt?”

“I’m asking the questions.”

“The longer we wait, the worse off Tim’s gonna be. He’s only getting ten percent of the blood he needs to keep his left leg. It could fall off before you finish, so please, tell me when and how this happened.”

“He’s right Chief, we’ve got to act quickly if we have any hope of saving the boy’s legs. You’ll have to wait to conduct an investigation. Please!” requested the doctor, a man Cameron didn’t know.

“Fine, it can wait,” relented the big man. “I’ll expect a full accounting tomorrow,” his condition for stepping aside. Before leaving Franklin turned, saying: “I hope he recovers.”

His comment burst the dam and Charlotte broke into tears.

Cameron moved to the bedside and began his scan, while Rachelle provided the details she had pieced together: “Tim was delivering pizza, he was leaving Emerson Cottage when he was assaulted and dragged into the bushes. He’s been beaten up - badly. I notified Security when I sensed something was wrong with my brother.”

Rachelle sobbed, it took her a few moments to recoup her emotions. Charlotte hugged her sister which had the effect of Rachelle almost collapsing, if not for Charlotte holding her up. Charlotte took up the narrative: “Tim was wheeled into Intensive Care right away. It’s been maybe a half hour since Rachelle first freaked out, I called for medics to meet us at Emerson,” Charlotte shuddered before stating: “They want to cut off his legs … Tim couldn’t live with that … where have you been?”

Cameron cried, tears welled up and forced him to blink repeatedly, water rolled down his cheeks. Cameron wiped his tears away to then hug Rachelle, which Charlotte joined. He didn’t offer an explanation, he’d let his friends down, it was inexcusable.

“Can you help him?” begged Charlotte, that hope is what they’d held onto - how they’d coped so far.

“I’ll do everything I can,” assured Cameron. “I’m going to need quiet to focus. It would be best if you two went back to your room and tried to get some rest. Ask Max to take you, I’ll stay with Tim.”

“We both know Max wouldn’t hurt a flea,” admonished Rachelle.

“That makes him the perfect person to guard you. Besides, nobody in their right mind would dare try anything with Max around,” assured Cameron.

Tim’s sisters wanted to object, they wanted to stay close, they were family, all the family they had left. The bond they shared was tight and had only grown stronger since their father had cast them out. Rachelle stepped bedside and laid her hands on Tim's forehead, the psychic link she formed calmed Tim’s thoughts as she imbedded the knowledge that he was loved.

Rachelle addressed the doctor: “I eased his pain, and tried to calm him down.” Her look to Cameron was filled with desperation and hope. The conflicting emotions bespoke of the faith she placed upon Cameron, a reliance that put added weight onto the boys shoulders.

Stepping into the waiting room, Rachelle and Charlotte were overwhelmed by the outpouring of concern from their teammates. The commotion made was such a disturbance that the nurse on duty asked them to leave.

The whole team walked Rachelle and Charlotte the distance over to Dickinson Cottage. Lynn made a point of walking beside Rachelle, her head hung low.

“I’m sorry,” confessed Lynn, unable to look her friend in the eyes.

Rachelle considered what Lynn had said, replying: “You didn’t hurt Tim.”

“No, but if I’d seen what was going to happen, we could have … I could have prevented this,” confessed Lynn.

Rachelle stopped walking to confront Lynn face to face. “Did you know?” Her tone spoke of confusion laced with accusation.

“No, I didn’t,” admitted an ashamed Lynn. “But that’s just it, I don’t understand why. It’s the sort of thing I should have seen coming.”

“I didn’t know Tim was in danger either, until after it happened. There’s enough blame to go around, but it mostly falls on those who hurt my brother. I just hope Cameron can help him, Tim’s only happy when he’s running, if he can’t even walk - it will break him.”

The two girls hugged, the night was cool but their hearts burned. Grief, frustration, and worry, it was a recipe for anger, someone hurt one of their own. Lynn knew the scales of justice had been skewed, she’d speak with Cameron about what would right the wrong.

Resuming their way on the path to Dickinson, they met up with Ella and Allan, in human form. The whole group walked to Dickinson Cottage together, bidding goodnight on the doorstep. From there Max and Debbie departed, Max walked Deb to Melville to then join up with a Security patrol who escorted him all the way home to Hawthorne, no point taking chances.

It had been decided amongst Northern Lites members, that none of them should be caught alone, at least until the reason for the attack upon Swift was determined. The Weres decided to return to Doyle, Lynn wanted to be with Cameron, someone needed to watch his back while he deep dove into Timothy’s anatomy.

Lynn asked her brother: “What did you find?”

“Two Bricks attacked Swift. They grabbed him inside Emerson Cottage and forcibly dragged him outside. It smells of a set up. We should find out who ordered the pizzas, that might tell us who orchestrated this.”

“I can take it from here, you two shouldn’t stay at Whateley, it’ll get Security’s hackles up.” advised Lynn.

“About that. I was wondering, would Whateley allow you to receive combat training, as a Were? From a Were?” Asked Ella, raising a growing concern she had as an Oberon, ever since the battle with the Bastard, Lynn needed to know how to handle herself better in a fight.

“Interesting. I already signed up for some basic martial arts, but it only covers human fighting techniques. My reflexes are more cat-like, what I’ve learned so far seems ineffectual, for what I’m capable of.”

“I will speak with Eloise Donner to see about making arrangements,” concurred Ella.

“Alright, ask if Allan could act as Medawihla’s liaison between Whateley Security and the Were’s Watchers.”

Ella and Allan stopped dead in their tracks, it was Allan who broached the subject: “You know about them?”

“Don’t forget I’m a Were too. I spotted them my first day here,” scoffed Lynn, to then add: “I think it’s a great idea, but they don’t need to try and hide from me.”

“Okay then,” acquiesced Allan.

“I need to ask a favour,” segued Lynn.

“Such as?” sought Ella.

“I was approached by the Grove. A World Tree seed was planted, it’s taken root. The forces that keep the Grove alive are getting diverted to feed the seedling, the Grove is dying. I was asked to help find a new home for all those who shelter within the Grove. Will you help?”

Doyle Medical Centre

Doctor Philip Tenant provided Cameron what facts he had ascertained so far. Firstly, he explained that he was Ophelia’s husband, and she’d encouraged him to accept Cameron’s assistance, with any case under his care. All indicators painted an ugly picture about Timothy’s injuries, Swift’s kneecaps had been shattered beyond repair by repeated blunt-force trauma.

It had taken calculated strikes using immense force to inflict so much damage, the damage done included surrounding bones, both above and below the knee joints. It was the doctor’s medical opinion that his knees were unsalvageable, amputation was recommended.

Cameron looked at his friend’s knees, and saw the mess Swift had been left in. Had it just been the kneecaps themselves, surgery to install titanium knee replacements could be considered, but as it stood, without any solid bone to start with, no wonder the doctor believed the only viable option was amputation. Maybe prosthetic legs could be fitted later on, but it meant Swift would never run again.

Tim had other injuries, none as bad as his legs, but still, his beating had been without mercy. Tracing the veins and arteries, Cameron noticed the impeded blood flow, the internal bleeding creating grossly distended swollen, and blackened legs. It was a good thing that Rachelle had suppressed Tim’s nervous system, Cameron would have terminated all nerve clusters below the waist otherwise.

In a quick review, Tim had two black eyes, a broken nose, three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, as well as internal injuries. Serious, but not critical, so placed as secondary concerns. Cameron had his work cut out for him, he took consolation from having rebuilt a hand for Ahmed, after that, Cameron didn’t feel out of his league helping Tim.

Cameron was aghast, having empathy for Tim’s agony. However, his demeanour was lightened when Lynn discreetly snuck into the room in cat form, hiding under a monitor’s cart, it was a moral boost he needed right now. Cameron dreaded to consider that Tim was hurt because of him, but that needed to be put out of his thoughts right now, first came Tim’s immediate health.

Doctor Tenant anxiously stood bedside, perhaps expecting Cameron to miraculously heal Swift by chanting and frantically waving his hands to and fro. Maybe that’s how magic healing worked, but Cameron didn’t use magic. It took a brief explanation about how Cameron needed to focus his sight on the injury down to the molecular level, to then knit bones back together. He’d need time - not a lot all told, but still, it would take time and much effort in consideration of the extent of damage wrought.

Cameron checked his battery: 83 percent, good, he wasn’t going to run out. But Cameron had also learned he needed to pace how much he did, so as to not overwhelm an injured body. Slow and easy since a body needed to acclimate - recuperate, on its own. Not to mention that too much rapid sensory input could inflict damage upon the mind, sending it into shock, just as bad as when getting injured - even if it’s undergoing healing.

Cameron commenced starting on Tim’s left leg, the bones at the knee had been pulverized, beyond recognition, not much remained but a calcium mush. After a while Cameron would sit in a chair to close his eyes to recoup his vigour, it also allowed Timothy a period to rest. Lynn would join Cameron in the chair and purred as he petted her fur. Cameron didn’t resume until Timothy had stabilized his breathing and circulation resumed. Even sedated, Swift’s body reacted to what Cameron did, it was better to let the swelling go down on its own, allow the body’s natural healing ability to do its job. It was a hard-learned lesson after repeatedly healing himself.

It was well past midnight before Cameron needed to stop, there was more to be done, but it could wait. Doctor Tenant had finished his shift and hesitated before going home, another doctor took his place: Doctor Cho, he stopped in to check up on what progress had been made. Cameron assured him that Timothy was stable. Upon that assessment and the improved vital signs being monitored, Timothy was removed from the Intensive Care ward and placed into a recovery room.

Once settled, with Tim still in a sedated slumber, Cameron slumped into the bedside chair and slept. Lynn found a blanket to cover him, then resumed her kitten form and curled up on him, keeping watch so no one disturbed them.

Dickinson Cottage

Rachelle and Charlotte donned their pyjamas in a wordless haze, just following the nightly routine rather than focusing upon the action. Rachelle was being brave for her little sister’s sake, but she too was upset and only keeping it together by a thread.

Rho was ready to cry as well if either of the sisters shed a tear. When Rachelle asked if Rho would stay with them tonight, she readily accepted. Charlotte and Rachelle huddled together on Charlotte’s bed, letting Rho have Rachelle’s. Sleep didn’t come, sniffles and choked breaths bespoke of worry.

Rachelle waited until Rhododendron fell asleep, she helped slide the Energizer girl into a deep dream-filled sleep. Once certain that the coast was clear, she rousted Charlotte, Charlotte had fallen sound asleep but didn’t complain about being disturbed. The two quietly changed into dark-coloured clothes, to then slip out of their second-story window, with Charlotte carrying her sister in flight away from Dickinson.

Staying away from the illuminated pathways, and using the trees as buffers, they arrived at Emerson cottage. Perspicacious reached out to touch the minds inside, looking for two in particular. At Doyle, Rachelle had helped her brother by dulling his terror at getting beaten, she mentally eased his fear and soothed the pain he was in. Of course, his mind had a clear picture of who attacked him, so now Rachelle did as well.

Perspicacious had also read the minds of Ella and Allan, learned what they knew, that had provided a name: Diesel. It took a couple flybys before narrowing it down, but Rachelle found the perpetrators. A couple of freshman Bricks, sharing a dorm room.

They even made it easy by leaving their window open for fresh air. Charlotte had only needed to disable one security camera during the search, she smacked it with a tree branch that had grown close to the cottage’s wall, a simple decoy to divert suspicion.

Climbing into the room the two Bricks remained asleep, Rachelle ensured they wouldn’t wake up during the intrusion. The Brick on the left was Diesel, the guy on the right called himself Foremost. Perspicacious dipped into Diesel’s mind, he was dreaming lewd thoughts about a girl he’d met. Beneath that, his mind was thrilled with the prospect of being welcomed with open arms into a group called ‘the Brickyard’, a collection of Bricks attending Whateley - he considered it a fraternity. That was also the belief held by Foremost.

It turned out that they had nothing against Timothy personally, they had been put up to beating him to prove themselves worthy of becoming members of ‘the Brickyard’, a hazing, a right of passage. Like guns, they had been pointed and sent off to wreak havoc. These two didn’t know who gave the order, only that it was relayed by Rho’s old foe: Unstoppable. These imbeciles had even gone back to Unstoppable’s room afterward to enjoy pizza.

It left no doubt, these were definitely the ones who’d done it. Undoubtedly lackeys, just the same: that they lacked good sense and a moral compass was no excuse. They were guilty as sin.

Rachelle was livid, how dare they! They had considered it sport, a good time, only a fore-gleam of things to come after manifesting as indestructible Bricks. They enjoyed hurting her brother.

It had been in the dead of night that she, Tim, and Char had had to runaway from home. Ever since then, the three of them had become entirely dependant upon each other, they looked out for each other, always. Rachelle protected her family with the passion a cornered animal would display fighting off any predator who threatened her family.

These two had earned her ire. As a Psychic, boosted by Charlotte, Rachelle let them have it, both barrels.

Having seen Timothy’s pain, his agony, and terror, Perspicacious implanted Tim’s hurt into his attacker’s minds. She wove the conflicting memories into a single perspective, each strike, each injustice, felt like it happened to them. In their minds, they had been attacked by each other, and suffered each blow like it had been afflicted upon their own body. That memory overlapping their attack upon Tim.

Leaving the room as they found it, Rachelle and Charlotte returned to Dickinson. Once back they returned to bed, after adjusting the time on the alarm clock. After a couple minutes Rachelle woke Rho, telling her that Charlotte needed to use the washroom, Rho volunteered to take her, they all went together - safety in numbers.

Only later did the clock get returned to the correct time, once Rho was asleep again.

Doyle Medical Centre

Cameron stirred, sleeping in a chair was never a good rest, but sometimes sacrifices needed to be made. Lynn was curled up in a ball on his chest, she’d taken her kitten form and was contentedly snoring away, it was too cute, Cameron didn’t want to disturb her. Remaining still, Cameron checked on Timothy, he was doing well, he had bruises and was swollen, but he was improving.

Cameron steadied his breathing and layered his sight to look at more of Tim’s injuries, ruptured blood vessels in his kidneys and misalignments in his spine took Cameron’s attention away. Cameron was shaken rather violently, he was forced to leave unfinished what he’d been focused upon.

In the hospital room was a member of Whateley Security, the man was apologetic about waking Cameron, not realizing Cameron had been focusing upon healing Tim. Lynn was nowhere to be seen. The Security man asked if Cameron had been here all night, aside from a visit to the washroom two doors down, Cameron hadn’t left Tim’s side.

Lynn entered the room with two cups of hot chocolate in hand. She was also asked of her whereabouts, she confirmed she had been present with Cameron all night, watching over Tim. He could ask the night shift nurse about Cameron and a cat being here. Yes, she was the cat, she needed to confirm that tidbit of information.

The Security man strictly told them to stay put, Doyle had an emergency, and needed everyone to keep out of the way. Tim’s recovery room door was closed and the man stayed posted outside.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Lynn asked.

“Don’t you?” was Cameron’s reply.

“I didn’t see Tim’s attack coming, I … I, I don’t understand - what’s wrong with me?”

“I think I might know,” confided Cameron, reaching out for the cup of hot chocolate, while offering the only chair present to Lynn. “You see, there are events that must happen. It’s the reason I’m an observer. There’s stuff that can’t be avoided or re-directed, it has to be faced head on. I suspect, in this instance, your Precognition couldn’t interfere with what had to happen.”

“Why?” begged a perturbed Lynn.

“People’s motives need to be drawn out into the open,” enlightened Cameron, hoping it satisfied Lynn’s curiosity.

“I’m being tested?” balked Lynn.

“No, not you, I’m pretty sure anyways, but you couldn’t interfere. Preventing something that needed to transpire.” Cameron’s attempt at consoling his stressed girlfriend backfired.

Lynn asked: “Is Tim in trouble?”

“No, I don’t think so. Otherwise, why let me heal him? No, my guess is, something needed to happen to kick open a door. I’m sorry for how terrible it sounds, but what’s happened to Swift may just be the latest salvo in a greater conflict.”

“You better explain yourself,” huffed Lynn, Cameron’s words only raised her ire.

“Students coming to Whateley get checked over upon arrival, in case they’ve been planted by God,” explained Cameron. “Last year I was killed within minutes of arriving here. Ever since then I’ve had to hide who I am.”

“Is that why you keep your eyes covered? Why you have a mental block so Psychics can’t read you? Why you don’t shout to the world that you’ve come in God’s name?” demanded an exasperated Lynn.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, to all the above. People can’t know that God sent me, so I can get close enough to see what’s really going on. Recently, I had to wear a disguise to uncover what the Brotherhood of the Shard was up to. I need to stay below everyone’s radar here at Whateley for the same reason.”

“The Brotherhood of the Shard?” bemused a mystified Lynn.

“A group of fanatics who had designs on conquering the world. Along the same lines as the Bastard.”

“You stopped them?”

“Not me, no. God stepped in before it got out of hand,” illuminated Cameron.

“I’m confused,” confided Lynn: “If God stopped this Brotherhood, why hasn’t he done something about the Bastard?” stated Lynn at the discrepancy.

“Hasn’t he?” retorted Cameron.

Lynn froze, the thought had never occurred to her before, a proverbial lightbulb lit over her head. “All this time, it’s why you’ve been helping the Were. Even though you weren’t sent to do that.”

“You thought you had to trick me into being the Golden-Eyed Man,” revealed Cameron.

“You knew?”

“Not at first, but you were so committed, you willingly gave up everything to help your people. That kind of conviction deserves some assistance, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.”

“It does, you do,” assured Cameron, placing an arm over her shoulder. “You are a rarity, a gem on a rocky shore. God has been willing to bend a little, just like he did when he saved the Were at the Cleansing.”

“You mean the Sundering?”

“It depends on your perspective, but yes.”

“That’s … Wow!”

“The Cleansing removed a corrupt and defunct government which had set its sights on complete world domination, in outright rebellion against God’s will. That old system went on for so long - only because its objective was hidden from sight. Once revealed - it was wiped out - Cleansed. The Brotherhood was a direct copy of Atlantis’s ideals, employing hatred and violence to enforce mastery over man. So it also warranted immediate destruction, just like what happened to Atlantis.”

“How does the Bastard differ?” deduced Lynn, unsure as to the reasonings at play.

“As a cat, have you ever toyed with your prey? Kept it alive to watch it squirm?” postulated Cameron.

“Well, yeah, sorta. But in my defence I did it to hone my tracking skills,” confided Lynn.

“The Bastard’s being used, he may not realize it, but he’s forcing people to show their true colours. It isn’t just a question of black and white, right and wrong, the game isn’t that simple. A person needs to display the qualities that separates them above the base emotions of hatred and violence.”

“But the Were are warriors, doesn’t that make them … us - bad?”

“They also value truth, honour, and dignity. Those are redeeming qualities, and why they’ve been given a nudge on occasion.”

Lynn sat in quiet repose, for all she thought she understood, much was unfounded. It takes time to shift gears mentally and get up to speed.

After mere seconds she smiled, asking: “Do you know why Whateley needs us locked up?”

“Nope. Does it matter why?” jested Cameron. “I’ve learned that sometimes you have to let matters unfold in their own way. There’s a plan, just enjoy the ride.”

“You got anything to eat?” said the hungry Werecat, one must set priorities.

Mount Prometheus Penitentiary

Lady Astarte walked into the waiting area, the high-security facility was renowned for containing dangerous individuals, empowered mutants who’d run afoul of the law. Just how they managed to keep some of the most feared criminals on earth behind bars, that was as big a secret as Mount Prometheus’s location.

To get here Elizabeth Carson had relied upon her heroine persona to even get in the doors. Starting from Arkham, she was then teleported to three places in rapid succession, each time getting screened and scanned. Lastly, she arrived at Mount Prometheus. There were no windows in sight, all light came from overhead illumination and the walls looked to be solid rock. A very imposing place.

The visitation room was small and under constant surveillance from the guards, consisting of just a table and two chairs facing each other was all the room offered by way of comfort. Elizabeth supposed it was a little more personal - to be able to speak in person, rather than conversing between a barrier like in some institutions. In consideration that it was impossible to make a phone call to Prometheus, there was no outside communications - period. No internet, no telephones, rumour had it they didn’t even get cable TV. Outside influence and interference was kept to a minimum.

Heather Merrill was brought into the visitor room, her prison clothes consisted of a baggy yellow jumpsuit. Over the heart were three concentric rings, again larger ones were on her back, they looked like targets - likely were targets, a terrible reminder that you were no longer a free person.

Liz remembered the lovely young lady who had attended her English class, smart, insightful, she had a fondness for poetry that Liz had nurtured and watched blossom. Back then Mysteria had all the earmarks of becoming a heroine, like herself. On instances, they’d even worked together to corral some heinous crooks who used magic to further their activities. That promising life had come crashing down like a house of cards when Liz was called upon to help capture Heather.

Mysteria sat in the chair opposite, her dark brown eyes lacked any of the lustre Elizabeth Carson remembered. The suppression collar around her neck blinked a red light on occasion, it might have been the disconnect to magic that dulled the Mage’s eyes, or the results of her life course.

“Elizabeth Carson, to what do I owe the pleasure? Or do I call you Lady Astarte? How about Miss Champion?”

“Elizabeth will do nicely”

“Yes, a nice cordial visit is in everyone’s best interest isn’t it? Have you come to discuss a poem’s merits like we did in the old days?”

“As enjoyable as that might be, I’m here to talk about your son: Geoff.”

“You’ve met him?”

“Briefly.”

“What’s he like?”

“A bright young man, he could even become an English major like his mother if encouraged to open up some more. When was the last time you saw him?”

“The morning of the day you beat me to a pulp and handed me over to this place.”

“That’s it?” Elizabeth was shocked at the revelation; that had been five … no, six years ago.

“Oh no, we’re pen pals. Just yesterday I received his letter. Single page, nothing scandalous is allowed, no talk about mutants or mutations, otherwise it gets redacted.”

“You’re aware that he’s manifested as a mutant?”

“I guessed as much, judging from how much of his letter was blacked out. Also, he missed a couple of letters, then his latest one was typed - not handwritten, like before. How is he?”

“He has GSD.”

A tear rolled down Heather’s cheek as she closed her eyes to hold them back.

“How bad?”

“It’s one of the more severe cases I’m afraid,” Elizabeth had to force her mouth to say the words, as a mother herself it was devastating news to impart.

“Tell me,” was said in a hushed tone, almost a plead for mercy.

“He has an overactive pituitary gland, it’s something you’d see in someone with gigantism, he measured in last at seven foot seven inches. He’s covered with malignant growths that have distorted his features. Coupled with his body becoming extremely dense, an effect of being a high-level Exemplar, he weighs in at two thousand three hundred and sixty pounds, and still growing.”

“He never said, if he did - this place never let me know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Will he stop growing? Is he …?”

“The people who examined him, they don’t believe his growth will stop. The prognosis isn’t favourable, it’s his heart.”

“Oh dear,” she openly wept. “My sweet little boy. I didn’t know what to think when his letters stopped coming.”

“For him to use a normal pen would be like writing with a toothpick. He’s been provided a keyboard to use, one that can withstand his strength.”

“He’s strong?”

“Off the charts. There’s more I need to tell you: I had a paternity test done.

“I told you who his father is: I was raped by Champion.”

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before.”

“I came to you, you'd worked with him for years, then parted on unfriendly terms. I thought if anyone would believe me it was you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The police were beyond useless, they needed their ‘champion’ to come to the rescue, so did nothing - nothing!”

“Do you remember Scott Morrison?”

“What? Why?”

“You would have been at Whateley around the same time.”

“Boyscout? He used the name Boyscout. He was anything but a boy scout. Every girl I knew had a horror story about him, as I recall I even slapped him for some obscene comment he made.”

“Scott Morrison was the first Champion you killed, he is Geoff’s father.”

Heather Merrill went into a deep introspective trance, there was a war being waged mentally and emotionally. When she raised up her dead eyes she asked the only question that mattered: “How?”

“There have been many Champions down through the years, there’s always a replacement waiting in the wings to take over.”

“But … I figured I botched my first attempt. After he came back when I thought I’d killed him - the first time, I figured I hadn’t finished the job. When he returned a couple of months later, I needed to … then he … Oh God!”

“That was another Champion, it wasn’t Scott.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why tell me?”

“You deserve to know. Meeting Geoff made me realize I haven’t owned my mistakes.”

“If you’re looking for forgiveness, you’ve come to the wrong place. I killed an innocent man, I deserve to be punished.”

“You came asking me for help, at the time I was convinced in the rightness of what we were doing, I pushed you away. All I could see was being a hero. I was blind to the fact that good people can do bad things.”

“What changed your mind?”

“In part its Geoff, why should he have to pay the price for somebody else’s errors? Plus, he had help getting to Whateley, a young man took care of him and has befriended him. The same young man I mistakenly abused and mistreated, and for which I could go to jail.”

“On the brighter side, the cell beside me is vacant, we could critique poetry together.”

They shared a bitter smile.

Doyle Medical Centre

The lockdown ended after a tense hour. Cameron had resumed healing Timothy’s ails, with Lynn providing the presence to allow Cameron to safely continue. Tim was improving nicely, the swelling was reducing and although he had severe bruises, his body was reacting to Cameron’s repairs as hoped.

Cameron had sat to rest when Rachelle and Charlotte entered Tim’s room. At Cameron’s smile, it broke the worry the two sisters had born since yesterday. Cries of joy escaped as hugs of thanks ensued.

Cameron had provided the doctor on duty a breakdown of Tim’s condition. X-rays and a visit to the MRI were slated to ensure Tim was okay. Now, Cameron needed to get some sleep, in a bed, and he wouldn’t mind a good meal too. But before he could leave, Rachelle asked if she could speak with him - privately.

Lynn agreed to stay with Tim, Charlotte asked if she could remain with Rachelle.

Doyle had a small vacant lounge in which they could talk, Rachelle wrung her hands, a cue that something was bothering her.

“How did you feel when you found out your family had been killed?” asked the Psychic.

Cameron had never really talked about his parents’ deaths, coming out of a coma almost eight years afterward hadn’t lessened the blow in the slightest. The issue hadn’t been brought up during training with her mentor, so hearing how they’d died was a wound that had torn her up inside. Now Rachelle and Charlotte had to contend with something similar, Cameron had to steady his emotions to address what was asked of him.

“I wanted to die too. Life meant little without my family,” admitted Cameron.

“But, you’re still here. So …?” dug Rachelle.

“Somehow I found the courage to go on,” it pained Cameron to say that. To confirm that ever since that dreadful day he carried a huge hole in his heart, that a big part of himself had died. But he hadn’t given up, he had a job to do, that thread of conviction had been the impetus to move him forward, to face the challenges and changes.

Until today that is, Cameron could share the hurt and tears seen in Rachelle and Charlotte’s eyes.

“Did you ever find who killed them?” Rachelle’s question brought the situation into focus.

“The agents responsible died at the accident's scene,” confided Cameron. “But I took the MCO to court, they’d orchestrated the whole mess.”

“Did it make you feel better? Winning against the MCO? Putting all of them into jail?” the sincerity of Rachelle’s questions demanded a reply.

“Getting rid of those hate mongers eased my worry that they would keep hurting others. It didn’t solve anything, the underlying problem of discrimination and violence remains,” Cameron tried to look his friend in the eye when saying that, but his head dropped when he saw the agony his words conveyed. “I don’t know that I will ever feel truly satisfied that justice is done. But I have to keep trying and believe God will set matters straight.”

“I found the guys that hurt Tim,” Rachelle’s admission shocked Cameron.

“What did you do?” softly requested Cameron.

“I … we,” Rachelle reservedly motioned to her sister in order to include Charlotte in the telling. “We paid them a visit last night. And …”

“Don’t stop now,” begged Cameron.

“It was two Bricks, Freshmen named Diesel and Foremost. Charlotte wanted to break them in half, I told her no, but …”

“I’m not here to judge you,” assured Cameron.

“At first, I was fully prepared to kill them for what they did,” admitted Rachelle, Charlotte agreed with that assessment by nodding her head. “But, I couldn’t do that, take a life that is, no matter how bad they hurt my brother … it didn’t seem fair.”

“I really wanted to bust them up, like they did to Tim,” inserted Charlotte. “But Rachelle wouldn’t go for that.”

“So …?” sought Cameron.

“I overlaid Tim’s memories onto their minds, they now feel Tim’s pain. Suffer just like he has.”

Cameron gave a heavy sigh, it pained him that his friends had been placed into such a position. He wondered how much of this rested upon his shoulders. “How does that make you feel?”

“It bothered me, I laid awake thinking about what I’d done, wondering if it was - right,” revealed Rachelle, locking her fingers together and squeezing until they turned white, a manifestation of a wounded conscious.

“How about you Charlotte?” questioned Cameron.

“I don’t know, I mean, at first it didn’t seem fair. What with Tim in hospital and all, and these guys sleeping in their own beds without a care in the world. But now, now that they’re getting a taste of their own medicine, not getting off scot-free, that makes it better.”

“You’re putting me in a tough spot,” assessed Cameron. “But I think it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“I … we, didn’t want you to think badly of us,” admitted Rachelle, with Charlotte again nodding her head in agreement.

“As a Policeman; I need to act on what you’ve told me. But it isn’t my place to judge you,” assured Cameron. “Nor am I a priest taking confessions.”

“Yeah, but, you’ve got an in with God. Does he hate us for what we’ve done?” blurted out Charlotte. In saying it, what she meant was, would this distance Cameron from them?

Cameron sat quietly thinking about the situation, to then say: “No, I don’t think God hates you. I’m reminded of the expression: ‘Eye for an eye, Tooth for a tooth.’”

“I don’t get it,” puzzled Charlotte.

“That’s God’s view of justice, there needs to be an equalizing of accounts to obtain balance. It’s why scales are often used to depict justice.”

“But we took the law into our own hands, doesn’t that make us vigilantes now?” stressed Rachelle.

“In the strictest sense, the closest blood relative has the right - no that’s not quite right, the obligation to take vengeance to correct a wrong,” informed Cameron.

“Wait, are you sure? What about the whole: ‘turn the other cheek’ stuff?”

“It’s true, we shouldn’t be the ones to instigate conflict. Perhaps another doctrine to consider is: ‘Treat others as you want to be treated.’ By assaulting Tim, his attackers deserve the same treatment they doled out, that would be what’s fair,” explained Cameron. “That you took a different route, rather than physically return punishment, you mentally repaid them in kind. As long as you are satisfied, then I would say justice has been served.”

“You aren’t mad at us?” exclaimed a surprised Rachelle.

“Far from it. I think you used your talents in an ingenious manner, very creative. I wish I had thought of it,” confided Cameron.

“Will Whateley be mad at us?” was the next obvious question that Rachelle needed to ask.

“Most likely,” admitted Cameron. “They tend to get their knickers in a twist over most everything.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” requested Rachelle.

“How they’ll react is anyone’s guess, after last year’s debacle I can’t even fathom how they’ll react,” deduced Cameron. “However, Whateley now has two more injured students to take care of, no doubt that’s gonna be top priority. Whichever way this plays out, it’s going to be interesting.”

“You’re not going to arrest us?” claimed a shocked Charlotte.

“Whateley doesn’t want me acting as a policeman on campus, so no. I’ll let you decide when you want to speak with Security,” affirmed Cameron.

The Tunnels

Sunday lunch at Crystal Hall had been a quiet affair, the members of Northern Lites ate together - minus Tim, they talked, about nothing really, just went through the motions of ingesting food. That Tim was improving had been encouraging news and allowed his sisters to leave his bedside.

A few well wishers stopped by, most of the Kimbas: Jade, Billie, Toni, Nikki, and Ayla. All the Outcasts, and a few other of Tim’s cottage mates. Poor Charlotte was weary from riding an emotional rollercoaster, it was a toss up if she would laugh or cry every time someone mentioned her brother.

Cameron knew his teammates needed a distraction, something to cheer them up. He had wanted to have everybody present for his big reveal, perhaps the time for showing off was now. Debbie’s space in the tunnels was closest to access from Schuster Hall, so everyone agreed to meet there after lunch.

They all gathered outside Werx’s workshop as she entered each of their biometrics and passcodes into her door’s security system. Although her workshop was large, with everyone standing around there was little extra room inside, not with storage units for tools and materials lining the walls, and a huge workbench taking up an entire end.

Opposite to her workbench was a double-doored storage cabinet, it too, just like the entrance door, had a touchpad. Deb placed her hand on the touchpad and an oddly familiar voice asked: “What, is your name?”

Deb’s face lit up in a huge smile when Charlotte had to ask who that was? “Tim the Enchanter, from Monty Python’s The Holy Grail,” a collective groan came from the group.

Deb gave her codename: “Werx.”

“What, is your favourite colour?”

Deb said her colour, the colour of the trim she’d selected for her uniform: “magenta,” to then inform that each of them had to provide their team colour when asked.

“What, is the airspeed velocity of an unladen sparrow?”

“I don’t know,” provided Deb as she entered her passcode on the touchpad.

“Right. Off you go.” The storage unit’s double doors swung inwards to reveal a passageway hidden behind. It was slightly cramped for Max, who needed to shuffle through sideways, but he managed the ten feet of constricted space Cameron had eked out of the rock.

The passageway emptied into a wide open and well-lit corridor, the team now stood a few feet behind a large concrete block that abruptly ended the corridor. It matched the placement of the sharp corner in the tunnel outside Deb’s workshop. Cameron had them huddle to commence his explanation.

Pointing to the concrete block behind them Cameron said: “This tunnel used to be the main arterial corridor for Whateley’s underground. They sealed it off after an accident forced them to abandon it, then dug other tunnels to go around this section.”

“What kind of accident?” sought Deb.

“Nuclear,” provided Cameron.

“Ahhh, they might call mutants ‘children of the atom’, but I don’t think that makes us radiation proof,” stated Rhododendron, a little pensive about her location.

“That is true. And yes, there was a lot of radiation down here. It’s taken me quite some time to get rid of it, that’s why I didn’t show any of this to you before,” supplied Cameron to allay the collective fears.

“Wait, you are immune to radiation?” puzzled Werx.

“No, not as such. I absorb energy, all kinds of it, including nuclear radiation,” backtracked Cameron, Deb didn’t know Cameron’s history.

“Seriously?” scoffed a dubious Werx.

“Not that again. Yes, seriously. It makes for a nice snack between meals, okay? Can I move on?”

“By all means,” relented Debbie, shaking her head in disbelief.

“So, nobody’s been in here for thirty-plus years. I don’t think anybody even knows it’s here. I checked the school’s records in Beck Library going back into the seventies, and there’s no mention of it, not the accident, nothing. The only thing I could find was in the rose garden: ten people died at Whateley that year, what was the cause - it doesn’t say.”

“So that concrete wall in your room, that’s the other end of this tunnel?” deduced Werx, the pieces falling into place.

“Exactly,” claimed Cameron. “Everything between here and there now belongs to us,” motioned Cameron as he pointed towards the two ends of the long corridor. “Welcome to our new clubhouse.”

There was trepidation amidst the group, news of a nuclear accident and radiation tends to bring that out in a person. Cameron had expected as much, so he handed out radiation monitoring strips, it’s surprising just what you can find in Whateley Academy’s little store.

Cameron showed them the converted classrooms, now exercise rooms and a spa - the sauna and hot pools garnered ooohs and ahhs. He held off showing them what he felt was the ‘piece de resistance’; Hyperbowl.

Opening the door, he let them enter at their leisure, the slack jaws and huge eyes said everything that could possibly be asked.

Charlotte twirled, giggling. She rushed over and grabbed Cameron’s arm, asking: “This is ours?”

“As long as we keep it a secret, I’d say so,” confirmed Cameron.

They wandered around huddled together, checking out the bowling lanes, the arcade, and the eating area that Cameron had re-arranged into a meeting space by forming a single large table in the middle.

Rho stepped up to the Juke Box and cued up Hawaii Five-O by The Ventures.

The song blasted out, as Charlotte started a game of pinball. The place came alive for the first time in ages.

Werx saddled up beside Cameron to say: “We may need to update the Juke Box’s playlist.”

“If you wouldn’t mind taking that job on?” concurred Cameron. “I have some songs I’d like to add, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Challenge accepted,” agreed Werx.

Lynn had gotten a couple of drinks from the vending machine for herself and Max, they sat at the table which everyone slowly gravitated towards. Charlotte was the last to sit down, she was a bundle of joy, this was exactly what she, Rachelle, and the others needed.

Cameron began: “I would like to call the first official meeting of Northern Lites to order. As the first bit of business, I find I need to express that I don’t feel I’m suitable to be our team’s captain.”

Cameron’s announcement was met with noises of dissent. So he continued: “Every team should have a leader, someone who can give direction, make commendation and correction. I can see - like forever, but I can’t carry the lion’s share. I’m distracted, or I should say I get distracted, to use my sight I become dissociated with what’s happening around me. That’s why I think we need to vote on our leadership.”

“I think I speak for everyone when I say we just assumed you would be our captain,” added Lynn. “Is there another reason why you don’t think you’d be suitable?”

“All right. My first priority is to observe the actions and attitudes of those attending Whateley, that is my mission, why I’ve been sent here. At times, that may align with what everyone wishes to do. But I could get assigned something that you can’t be part of. I don’t want to drag you into something that could endanger you - more than I already have.”

“I don’t understand,” added a baffled Rho.

“I suspect Tim’s attack is on my head. On my first day at Whateley last year, I was killed. It wasn’t an altogether unexpected welcome, because God’s enemies anticipated an agent to show up eventually, although they didn’t expect me to return. But, ever since, they’ve been on alert for another to come.”

“You think Tim was targeted?” supposed Lynn based upon Cameron’s admission.

“They’re very good at hiding their true intentions,” enlightened Cameron. “They don’t want to be exposed.”

“The two who attacked Tim believed they would be given admittance into a group called the Brickyard,” informed Rachelle, all eyes turned to her in curiosity.

“Do we know anything about this Brickyard?” questioned Lynn, while Rho had a fit of giggles at the mention of the word brickyard.

“Not yet. Not beyond that it’s a bunch of Bricks, the same ones who made noises about Flambé burning one of them last year,” said Rachelle. “I need to read a few more minds to figure out who’s in charge.”

“And this is why having a Psychic in the group is so useful,” confided Cameron. “It’s also why it would be good if we all learned how to block mind probing.”

“Is that necessary?” contested Rho, she wasn’t sure about someone messing around with her head, but had made progress with Dr. Hewlett already, so … maybe.

“It worries me that Tim’s attack was because something tipped them off. That you’ll all be in danger because of me,” cautioned Cameron.

“Do we even know who this they are?” Debbie’s question came with a hint of sarcasm, but she saw the fear born on the other’s faces.

“That is the question, isn’t it? I highly doubt that a group of Bricks are capable of being in charge, it’s not in keeping with the ‘strong back - weak mind’ stereotype,” commented Cameron. “I’d say we need to let Rachelle explore options.”

Rachelle spoke up: “I’ll focus on Dump Truck and Unstoppable, see what they know - I don’t have high hopes of finding much, for obvious reasons. Calling themselves the Brickyard, it’s kinda dumb.”

Rho burst out laughing at the comment.

“What’s your problem?” insisted Lynn.

In between chortles, Rho got out: “At my uncle’s warehouse, we put all the damaged items into a heap outside we called the ‘brickyard’, to get hauled away as garbage.”

“Okay,” admitted Lynn. “That’s worth laughing over. But doesn’t get us closer to the issue at hand.”

Cameron didn’t want to add speculation, he preferred dealing with facts, but: “I was questioned about the destruction of that church on campus. The insurance investigator had a schedule of who’d used the church before it was destroyed. A group calling itself the Atlantean League held regular meetings.”

“That doesn’t sound so nefarious,” chipped in Charlotte, receiving agreeing head nods from Max and Werx.

“Atlantis is the name used by those destroyed in the Cleansing,” detailed Cameron.

“You might have heard it called the Sundering,” corrected Lynn.

“It depends upon your perspective. It was a corrupt and decrepit system that had to be removed, it deserved to be destroyed because it was in direct opposition to God’s will. Recently, a group called the Brotherhood of the Shard was following in Atlantis’s footsteps, revelling in hatred and violence, they got - cleansed too. I estimate that the Atlantean League is another front to that same ideology, intent upon pushing mutants into war.” Cameron’s explanation took his friends a moment to digest, they shared glances as a means to confirm that they had heard it right.

Rachelle broke the stymie that had formed, “Do we know who’s in this Atlantean League?”

“I don’t know, I believe that’s what I’m to find out,” supplied Cameron, confirming he didn’t have all the answers.

“How are we going to do that?” asked Lynn, speaking for the team.

“Stay alert. If anyone asks you to join a club, it could be a recruitment to the Atlantean League,” instructed Cameron.

“What about you?” asked Rho.

Cameron detailed his role: “I need to keep watch, have people expose their true selves, seeing their reactions and motivations.”

Werx was mystified, this was too new to grasp, she had to ask: “How do you know you can trust any of us?”

“Because God provides me insight. I receive direction in the form of dreams, I dreamed about each of you. That you needed help - divine intervention if you like, it lead us to meet, and become friends.”

Charlotte summed it up by saying: “Wow!”

“In light of all that, having you as team captain only makes sense,” said Rhododendron, who stood: “I hereby nominate Outlook as captain of Northern Lites, all in favour say: ‘Aye!’”

No one objected, however Cameron withheld voting.

“So be it. As my first official act as captain, I appoint Flambé as my assistant.”

Doyle Medical Centre

Doctor Philip Tenant had been dubious about letting Outlook attend to his patient, it wasn’t how a doctor treated those placed into their care, granting an untrained and uncertified person to perform healing. Had the boy been a specialist, perhaps even a mage, he’d have had fewer doubts. But the x-rays he was looking at sealed up his concerns and locked them away.

Ophelia had been right, Outlook not only helped, but had effectively healed the boy’s injuries. The pictures on display all showed Swift’s bones to look solid and healthy. Philip’s latest examination already resulted in decreasing the pain medication the boy was being provided, now Doctor Tenant was certain Swift could be placed into recuperative care, and begin physiotherapy to regain strength in his renewed limbs.

Philip wanted to speak with Outlook, see about bringing him in to aid at Doyle, it would be a boon. But Ophelia had cautioned him that Outlook wasn’t interested in becoming a doctor. That couldn’t be allowed to happen, not after what he’d witnessed.

“How’s the patient?” Dr. Cho’s question shook Philip from his thoughts.

“Take a look at these x-rays,” offered Dr. Tenant, stepping aside to give Cho room. “This knee joint was beyond salvaging, a total amputation was the only option, before …” The difference between the before and after pictures being illuminated on the board told the story.

“It alters one’s perception of practicing medicine, doesn’t it?” confided Dr. Cho.

“I watched as the boy did it, I still can’t believe it’s possible,” added Philip as he put his nose up against the x-ray to better see the detail captured. “Not even a hairline fracture left. Think of the good that boy could do.”

“It makes you wonder what tomorrow will bring, between mages and now this kid. It makes me feel like a … a witch doctor,” pondered Cho.

“I was worried he would be uttering prayers and performing rituals, like sacrificing some poor little creature to appease the gods. All he did was become very quiet and stared. I did notice a slight blue haze form, but otherwise, there were no indicators.” Philip Tenant spoke from a place of awe.

“Don’t mages need to channel magic with a spell?” asked Dr. Cho.

“What I saw wasn’t magic, he can control the elements,” affirmed Phillip.

“We’ll be out of a job if he becomes a doctor.”

“You think so?”

Timothy sat up in bed, sipping on a glass of orange juice. He was slow in his movements, as he always did to pace himself to live in a world that existed at a snail’s speed. But now, he was being super cautious, his injuries still hurt, not as bad, nowhere near as bad, he was still sore.

The first visitor into the hospital room was his twin sister Rachelle, she eyed him up, gave a head nod, and said: “Right.” It seemed to be an agreed-upon cue for his younger sister to also join them.

“Tim’s still addled by sedatives, don’t expect too engaging a conversation,” Rachelle warned. “Not too different from usual.”

“Oh, hardy, har, har. Make fun of the guy laid up in hospital why don’t cha,” retorted Tim.

Into the room also came Cameron and Lynn. Lynn carried a small potted plant with a bow tied on it, she set the plant on the little bedside table before asking: “How do you feel?”

“Groggy, and … slow,” Tim admitted, his sister was right, the drugs he’d been administered made him a touch loopy.

“Anything in particular bothering you?” sought Cameron, oddly his eyes were uncovered, not the first time Tim had seen him without his visor on. The golden glow made him look so very different, you wouldn’t even notice anything else about him other than his shining eyes. Cameron held out a tub of food: “Butterscotch pudding,” explained Cameron. “They said you shouldn’t eat anything solid for a while.”

Charlotte made a noise that sounded like: “Yum,” and made moves to intercept it.

Cameron held up a hand to halt her, then reached behind his back to procure another bowl full of pudding for her. Then offered her a spoon, which she also grabbed before digging in.

“My side hurts,” mentioned Tim, in answer to Cameron’s question.

Cameron spied Tim’s side, looking for anomalies, he had a large bruise, a remnant from internal bleeding. Cameron cleared up the spot, easing Tim’s discomfort. Cameron began a sweep of Tim to spot any other lingering effects from his beating, mostly he had sore and tender spots to contend with, a huge improvement.

There was only a single chair provided in the room so having his entire team present crowded the room. Expressions of goodwill were offered before most of his teammates vacated, leaving Rachelle and Charlotte to comfort their brother.

Heading towards Doyle’s exit, Cameron was confronted by Ophelia Tenant, asking if Cameron would help her diagnose two patients who had been admitted earlier with curious ailments.

Lynn stayed close to act as Cameron’s protector, a role she welcomed since it let her remain at Cameron’s side. They held hands as Cameron focused on Ophelia’s patients, the shared physical contact with Lynn was reassuring.

The two Bricks had been placed into a single recovery room, the curtain was drawn between them for privacy, as much privacy as a thin piece of hanging fabric affords that is. Cameron looked intently at the first Brick in bed, his chart named him as Diesel. Then the second Brick; Foremost. After looking at them Cameron made an expression akin to an amused smile but it was only on one side of his face.

Stepping into the corridor so as to not upset her patients, Dr. Ophelia asked: “What did you find?”

“Nothing,” admitted Cameron. “There isn’t anything physically wrong with them, aside from high cholesterol which could be attributable to a poor diet.”

“That is so strange, they’re complaining about extreme pain in their legs and other places, but we can’t determine why,” confided Ophelia. “At first, we thought they suffered a similar attack as your friend.”

“I’m sorry Doctor, I can’t fix what’s not broken,” supplied Cameron, accompanied with a shrug of his shoulders to convey he couldn’t help her.

“Thanks for trying,” conceded Ophelia. “A Psychic is coming to check them for psychosomatic injuries,” She re-entered the recovery room leaving Cameron and Lynn alone.

“What’s going on?” sought Lynn. The encounter was a little too manipulated to be coincidental.

“I need to speak with Rachelle, let’s go back to Tim’s room,” advised Cameron.

A new guest had arrived to visit Swift, Admiral Everhart was interviewing Timothy to get his statement about being attacked. Rachelle sat in the chair while Charlotte leaned against a wall holding her empty pudding bowl.

Cameron and Lynn were allowed to enter and observe, as long as they didn’t interfere. Everhart didn’t need a notepad or recorder, Hive was directly linked to Whateley’s mainframe so everything said could be saved and analyzed later.

Tim told the story of delivering pizza to Unstoppable’s room at Emerson Cottage, as he was leaving he was accosted in a staircase by two assailants: Bricks, after cornering him they carried him outside. He was taken into a cluster of trees and beaten mercilessly.

Tim didn’t know either of his attacker’s names, he’d never seen them before, and didn’t know them from Adam. But provided the best description he could. With tears running down his cheeks, Tim asked why they would do such a thing?

Admiral Everhart didn’t provide an answer, if she didn’t know, or didn’t care, either way, her silence felt cold and impersonal. It did nothing to help Tim deal with the emotionally distressing effects of his experience, it only added to the mental impact and misery his assault caused.

Whateley Security, as standard practice, required a few additional questions to be answered, like the estimated time of the attack, and if anyone was witness to it. It was very much like being victimized again, in effect saying that Tim deserved what he got for not defending himself.

Cameron understood that Police in general have to remain detached, to not let emotions cloud their judgement, but there was something very off about the non-biologic officer, a human touch was lacking. The Admiral left without even saying: ‘thanks’ or offering a gesture of goodwill like ‘get better’.

Cameron asked to speak with Rachelle privately, when she stood to leave, Charlotte jumped at the chance to sit in the chair, doing so by flying overtop the chair back and dropping down into it. Tim laughed, but groaned holding his side, and coughed, which elicited another groan.

In the hallway, Cameron quietly said; “I was asked to inspect two Bricks, I recommend speaking with Whateley sooner than later, tell them what we know, get ahead of their investigation.”

Lynn surprised everyone by asking that they wait until she returned, she needed to collect something from her room.

Cameron approached Doctor Tenant, asking if he could arrange a conference with Doyle, Security, and Admin. Shortly thereafter Cameron was informed that a meeting was to be held over at Schuster Hall in a boardroom in a half hour.

Rho volunteered to stay and keep Tim company, she’d brought a deck of cards and a can of maple flavoured peanut brittle her family had sent. Rachelle, Charlotte, Cameron, and Lynn walked together the short distance over to Schuster Hall.

En route, Cameron provided Rachelle with some advise: “Answer all their questions, tell them the truth, don’t hide anything from them. Remember, you guys are the victims, don’t allow them to make you feel like you did something wrong. Most of all, treat them with respect.”

“Will you stay with me?” quizzed Rachelle, safety in numbers and all that.

“All the way, but if I can’t, don’t overplay Charlotte’s role, try and keep her out of it, as much as possible,” added Cameron.

“Hey,” complained Charlotte. “I helped.”

“It’s okay Sis, I know you did your part,” soothed Rachelle. “But it’s on me, it has to be on me alone, in case this goes South.”

“Maybe it would be best if Charlotte wasn’t there. Lynn, can you take her back to Doyle?” sought Cameron. Lynn nodded in acceptance.

“But …” Charlotte wanted to object, not willing to leave her sister’s side.

Lynn handed Rachelle a couple of pages of paper.

“What’s this?” asked Rach.

“A witness statement from someone who saw everything,” confirmed Lynn.

Rachelle’s mouth dropped open; “How? Who?”

“I’ll tell you later, it’s best if you don’t know,” responded Lynn, as she gave Rachelle a light push toward the door. “Go, you’ll be fine,” assured Lynn. If that was Precognition or a friend speaking was not conveyed in her comment. “Come on Char. If we hurry, there might still be some peanut brittle left,” tempted Lynn.

It took a second for Charlotte to relent, begrudgingly. But she and Lynn turned around and headed off back to Doyle.

“Good,” announced Cameron, to then continue prepping Rachelle: “Don’t get nervous, you’re just making a statement, not a confession.”

The two walked towards the Admin’s reception area, stepping up to the desk, Mrs Claire directed them to the meeting room that had been reserved for them. In attendance were Chief Delarose and Admiral Everhart from Security, Doctors Tenant from Doyle, Mrs. Shugendo and Ms. Hartford representing Admin.

Barely inside the door, Cameron could sense the tension in the room, a quick look at Rachelle bespoke how she too felt waves of impatience from those in attendance, although much more so than Cameron with her being a Psychic. The door had barely closed behind them, having all eyes trained upon the two youths, Cameron addressed the room: “We have information regarding the attack upon Swift. Officer Everhart just conducted an interview with Tim, and we would like to impart further details to aid her investigation, and for Whateley’s benefit.”

“Why didn’t you speak up before?” sought Samantha Everhart in an annoyed tone.

“Tim doesn’t need to know what we have to say, he’s dealing with enough already,” illuminated Rachelle. The attendees couldn’t dispute her logic.

Before parting, Charlotte had given her sister a boost, so Rachelle was as high a level Psychic now as ever before, and she read the room. Perspicacious knew who was for and against them - her.

It was the Dean of Students who invited Rachelle and Cameron to sit, no one else had seen the need to offer them a place at the table.

“Proceed!” was the directive given by Hive, not wanting to waste any more of her time.

“We know who attacked Tim. Residents of Emerson Cottage, two Bricks named Diesel and Foremost,” provided Rachelle, completely calm and unruffled at the scrutiny.

“How did you come by this information?” requested Security Chief Delarose, it was more than his team knew at this point.

Rachelle handed the eyewitness statement Lynn provided over to the Chief, he read it quickly then gave it to Everhart to scan. That the statement was written on Medawihla Tribal Council’s letterhead was irksome to the pair from Security, judging from Franklin Delarose’s derisive snort, and Rachelle’s grasp of the situation.

“You’ve already approached the Medawihla?” accused Delarose, frustrated at being played.

“Not at all,” inserted Cameron. “But it does appear they wish to be included in your investigation, if their handing over that document is an indicator.”

“Peachy,” mumbled the Security Chief, more hurdles to hinder his work.

“How did you determine that Foremost was an accomplice? He isn’t mentioned in that statement,” asserted Everhart, ever keen on details.

“I read his mind,” revealed Perspicacious, the room was startled at her frank admission.

“I see,” acknowledged Ophelia Tenant. “Did you know that both Diesel and Foremost are currently in Doyle, exhibiting symptoms identical to those of your brother?”

“Yes,” agreed Rachelle. “Outlook informed me he had been asked about their injuries.”

“And?” required Ophelia.

“It’s likely that you haven’t discovered any medical trauma present, physically at least, which would explain their condition,” expressed Rachelle. “The reason for that is: I implanted the agony Tim has undergone onto their minds.”

“That’s completely unethical!” spouted Ophelia, letting her emotions overrule her actions.

“I beg to differ,” refuted Rachelle. “It would be unethical, had I not acted to defend my brother, and prevent any further hostilities.”

“Young lady, you are greatly mistaken about what it means to have ethics,” corrected Ms. Hartford.

“Really! So, it’s Whateley’s stance, ‘ethically’ to let supercharged adolescents run willy nilly around campus without restraint? You consider it ethical to allow teenagers to carry: guns, blades of any size or shape, wield any weapon conceivable, as part of integrating them into society?” countered Rachelle, she had scanned Chief Delarose to glean his greatest concerns and worries, and chose to play upon them. “Whateley actively encourages violence, not only as a means to resolve conflict, but to acknowledge that you cannot enforce law and order on these unruly kids. In effect, you’ve given up trying to enforce control. What hope does society have for a peaceful future?”

“You are completely out of line,” rebuffed Chief Delarose. Only because it was expected of him, in truth, Rachelle had hit every chord he’d been thinking - perfectly! He was ready to cheer for her in his heart.

“To take it down a notch, might I ask Officer Everhart a question,” requested Cameron, receiving no open objection, he commenced: “What percent of crimes typically get solved by the police?”

“Seven percent,” supplied the Security officer without skipping a beat.

“Is that statistic a fair representation, including mutant activity?” was further asked by Cameron.

“That is the national average, most enforcement agencies acknowledge its accuracy,” detailed Hive. “But it doesn’t differentiate between mutant and non-mutant crimes.”

Cameron took the torch and ran with it: “Who of you, if playing a game having only a 7 percent chance of winning, would even bother playing that game? Isn’t it more likely that you would walk away, avoid the risk, and keep your money?” Cameron had cast the net, time to draw it in: “The thing is, this isn’t a game. It’s life, Tim and Rachelle’s life. As Officer Everhart has stated: In all likelihood, a violent crime at Whateley will go unpunished since only 7 out of every 100 crimes committed get resolved. Given those odds, no wonder Rachelle felt it necessary to not let the system fail them, as it did me.”

“You are out of line,” shouted Ophelia, standing in outrage at the affront. To then look around the table and see that no one else had taken up the mantle, especially none from Admin.

“Tell me, please,” begged Cameron. “What crime did I commit, that warranted me serving three months of detention? Which, by all accounts, is the longest punishment ever handed out at Whateley.” levelled Cameron. No one spoke up to provide a response. “That is why Perspicacious could not anticipate receiving a satisfactory response to her brother’s attack. It is also probably why - the average human lives in fear of mutants, because of the example being set for them here - which outright condones bad conduct.”

“Don’t you think what you did was bad? You confessed to committing a crime, we all heard it,” objected Ophelia.

“I took no delight from having to protect my family, getting pushed into a corner, forced to fight,” confided Rachelle. “Until now, I never understood why so many people are gun owners, but if those make a criminal think twice before assaulting anyone, then more power to them.”

“That’s not for you to decide, or place judgement on. You’ve hurt those boys!” pleaded Ophelia hoping to sway opinion to her side.

“Let’s be clear, the crime in question here, was the unprovoked assault upon her brother: Swift. Perhaps that issue should be resolved first, before taking Perspicacious to task,” cautioned Cameron. “Does Whateley have a suitable punishment in mind, fitting for what those two deserve?” questioned Cameron.

“They’re writhing in pain as we speak, isn’t that enough?” contested Ophelia.

“You’re argument is: that ever since Swift has been healed, the injuries he sustained aren’t worthy of consideration?” clarified Rachelle.

“No, that’s not it at all. You can’t go around inflicting pain upon others as retribution,” countered Ophelia.

“How else will they learn?” Rachelle’s reply stung, it held true to the underlying idea of correcting wrongdoing / wrongdoers with prisons and punishments. Rachelle determined that most obstacles in the room had been removed, it was only the doctors who remained to be convinced.

“Did you know they laughed while beating Swift up, like it was the most fun they ever had?” continued Rachelle, appealing to the doctor’s humanity. “Are you prepared to heal the next person they attack? And the next after that? What if they kill someone? Can you face knowing you did nothing to stop them?”

“That’s not the point!” stressed Philip Tenant.

“I am touched that you don’t want me to become a monster, like those two in Doyle. But, you should know, I left a backdoor in their minds,” softened Rachelle’s approach. “If they show contrition, real remorse for what they’ve done, and ask for Swift’s forgiveness. The mental block will disappear. So, it’s up to them, if they want to get better. Unlike Swift, who - thanks to them, would have lost his legs - and maybe his life if he couldn’t learn to cope.”

“You’re coming over to Doyle right now young lady, and removing this mental inhibition of yours,” demanded Ophelia.

“No, I won’t,” refused Rachelle outright, completely set in her conviction. “And I wouldn’t recommend having another Psychic attempt to lift it either,” she cautioned. “A mind is much like a house of cards, pull on the wrong thing and the whole shebang comes tumbling down.”

“You booby-trapped it! Can you live with yourself? Torturing others?” condemned Ophelia.

“I can live knowing nobody’s going to touch my family, not if there are repercussions for raising a finger against us,” refuted Rachelle.

“You have no morals!” Spat Ophelia.

“My morals are just fine, thank you. Do you honestly believe every person in America who owns a gun is immoral? Which is funny, cause your husband has a gun hidden in the nightstand beside your bed,” Rachelle’s revelation brought about red faces. “Since when is protecting your family a crime? Isn’t that one of the reasons why you married a big strong man?”

Ophelia huffed in displeasure, but she couldn’t pursue her argument. Her stand had too many holes in it, holes that Rachelle was easily maneuvering through.

“I’m going to recommend to the headmistress that this investigation be handed over to the Medawihla for reconciliation,” recommended Ms. Hartford, halting the debate. “The situation as it stands, is too nuanced for Whateley to handle internally, given the proximity to Mr. Burke’s existing legal suit, and the headmistress not being able to become involved.”

Rachelle nodded in acceptance, with Cameron vocalizing: “Agreed.”

“Perspicacious, you can expect to hear from the Medawihla shortly. Please reconsider releasing Diesel and Foremost from their mental bindings. That’s all everyone,” dismissed Ms. Hartford.

Cameron and Rachelle were the first to leave, exiting the office Cameron said: “You need to consider becoming a lawyer, you owned that room.”

“What do you think the Medawihla will do?” worried Rachelle.

“Not much,” assured Cameron. “They’re all for letting people settle their own accounts. They as much as had that written into the agreement which lets me stay at Whateley.”

The End

for now

Read 7039 times Last modified on Friday, 31 March 2023 17:34

Published in Whateley Independent Fiction

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Camospam

I do not see myself as an author, I enjoy storytelling and write them down. I’ve never sought to be a writer, and I am more surprised than anyone by how many stories are under my name. It’s because I don’t see myself as an author that I haven’t sought to become a canon contributor.

I write as a way to track my journey of self discovery, each character I create is in some way representative of who I am, who I’ve been, who I want to become. Telling a story has become therapy, given how much I’ve written should be a hint that I might have issues.

I did not set out to step on anyone’s toes, had I used someone else’s character’s it was meant as a compliment.

Looking back, I’ve tried to tell a story I wanted to read, escape for a little while, let my imagination out to play, and have found there are others who enjoy an adventure and willing to be taken for a romp.

I am helped by some wonderfully creative minds; Wendy K and Gabi, collaberators who provide healthy advice and correct my multitude of mistakes.

I encourage everyone to pursue thier dreams, to see a positive whenever clouds are overhead. A rainy day can be refreshing if you look for the good that comes of it.

DO your best, feel good about yourself, it doesn’t matter what others think, what matters is that you are happy with yourself.

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