The black van weaved its way through New York’s bustling streets, skyscrapers towering above and the cacophony of city life filling the air. Team 0’s members, each lost in their thoughts, watched the familiar scenery of the city unfold. With his enhanced senses, James absorbed the myriad of sounds, sights, and emotions emanating from the vibrant metropolis.

He had initially struggled during the drive, his mind having difficulty cataloging everything his new skill informed him of, but he was slowly getting used to the increased input.

A headache still throbbed behind his eyelids, but it was much more bearable now, and he hoped it would become even better once he managed to take some time to increase his stats in a place that wouldn't crumple like cardboard if he accidentally moved wrong.

They arrived at the Awakener's Association HQ, the towering structure that exuded power and authority by now a familiar, welcoming sight for them. The van descended into the basement parking, where they were promptly greeted by a group of administrative staff. The atmosphere was professional and efficient, in contrast to the chaos of the streets above.

The team was quickly escorted from the parking space to a luxurious conference room on one of the upper floors. The room was opulent, adorned with sleek furnishings and a large window that offered a stunning view of the city skyline. It was a setting that spoke of a power and prestige the Awakener's Association didn't necessarily have at the moment.

The Regional Director awaited them, a man whose presence dominated the room. He was impeccably dressed, his demeanor both welcoming and commanding, his balding head the only flaw in the look, giving him a more mild-mannered air. As Team 0 entered, he stood, greeting them with a warm yet measured smile.

"Welcome back, Team 0. We've been eagerly anticipating your return." He began, his voice strong and confident. "Congratulations on achieving your rank-up. It's a significant milestone and one that deserves recognition."

The team was offered refreshments, a selection of fine beverages and snacks that were a welcome treat after their journey. As they settled, the Regional Director continued. "Your official rank test will be held in a week. It's a formality, given your achievements, but necessary to officially recognize your new status."

James listened with his senses, attuned not just to the Director's words but to the underlying emotions and intentions. He could feel a genuine sense of pride from the Director, but there was something else, a keen interest that went beyond mere congratulations.

"The Guilds have been on our case about your disappearance, especially the Emerald Guard, so your return must be as triumphant as possible. Shut the voices down, so to say." He chuckled, though James could only feel worried about what had been happening during their absence.

He'd do his best during the test, that went without saying, but the implied acknowledgment from the Director that there had been attempts at inquiring about their location, and even some rumors, did not go unnoticed. James noticed his teammates's auras color with worry and grit his teeth. They would have to gather some more information later.

The conversation soon turned to Miss Walker. The Director inquired about her advancement, his curiosity evident. "Dear Leila, I trust your own rank-up process was successful?"

The woman nodded, a hint of satisfaction in her tone. "Yes, it was. I achieved what I set out to do."

James noticed the shift in the Director's demeanor, a subtle but unmistakable spark of interest. It was clear that Miss Walker's advancement was particularly significant to him, much more than he let on. The implications of what she might have achieved hung in the air, a topic that went unaddressed.

The meeting continued, with the Director discussing logistical details and expectations for the upcoming rank test. But James's mind lingered on the exchange about Miss Walker. Her advancement, whatever it entailed, was a key piece in a larger puzzle that involved not just Team 0 but the Awakener's Association as a whole.

As the meeting concluded, the team was given time to settle back into the HQ and prepare for the week ahead. The Director's parting words were encouraging, yet they carried an undercurrent of expectation. "You've all shown remarkable growth. The Association has high hopes for you. Make us proud."

----------------------------------------

The morning light filtered gently through the curtains of James's room, casting a soft glow over the familiar surroundings. He awoke feeling refreshed, having finally managed to use the stat points to expand his MIND enough that his brain didn't feel like exploding.

Status.

STATUS

WINDOW

NAME

James Summers

AGE

19

AWAKENING

2nd

TALENT

Psychic Juggernaut

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TITLE

LEVEL

103

MP

530/530

STR

64

VIT

35

AGI

35

SENSE

64

MIND

40

STAT POINTS

0

That's much better. I'm going to have to split my stat points between STR, MIND and SENSE going forward, or even reevaluate how to spread them. The headache I had yesterday was a strong sign that I need to put more in MIND as I keep growing, or my brain won't be able to keep up with the information my skills feed it.

Descending the stairs to the living room, he could already smell the aroma of breakfast. His grandmother, Rosa Summers, was at the stove, her movements deft and practiced. She smiled warmly, appearing like an harmless old lady, though James knew she had a spine of steel.

His grandfather, Larry Summers, sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper in hand. A stern man with a rigid exterior, Larry had always been a strict figure in James's life, yet beneath that tough façade lay a deep affection for his grandson.

They had welcomed him home warmly, and he had spent much of the evening telling of his adventures, making sure to edit the most dangerous parts so as to not make the two elders worry too much.

"Good morning, dear.” Rosa greeted him, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. "I just wanted to say congratulations again on your rank-up. We're so proud of you."

"Thank you, Grandma," James replied, feeling a warmth that had little to do with his mana. He took a seat at the table, savoring the comfort of being home.

Larry looked up from his newspaper, his expression softening slightly. "It's a big achievement, James. Your father would have been proud."

James nodded, feeling a pang of longing at the mention of his father. The more he learned of the man, the more he would have liked to have him around, but he'd made his peace with it over the years, and reading his journals had helped him in that.

As they ate, Larry's demeanor shifted, something on his mind. "I saw something interesting on the news yesterday." He began, his tone contemplative. "One of your father's old squad mates was interviewed on the streets of Long Island. I thought he was dead. I never heard from him after Andrew passed, but in the interview, he said he lived down the road from that nice ice cream shop with the blueberry and milk flavor I like."

James's interest was piqued immediately. His father's past was a topic that often occupied his thoughts, filled with mysteries and half-told stories. Despite how much he had learned from the journals, he felt there was still much he didn't know." Do you remember his name?" He asked, already considering the possibility of meeting the man.

"Michael Donovan." Larry replied. "They were close, served together for years. I always wondered why he never showed up after everything happened, considering that his name wasn’t on a casket at the funeral.”

"I should meet him and see what he can tell me about Dad."

Rosa gave him a supportive look, understanding his need for closure. "Just be careful, James. The past can be complicated."

"I will be." James assured her, finishing his breakfast. "Thanks, Grandma, Grandpa."

After breakfast, James prepared to leave, his mind already planning the trip to Long Island. The opportunity to connect with someone who knew his father, to perhaps unravel some of the mysteries surrounding his death, was too important to pass up.

He had agreed to a day of rest despite his desire to test his new skills, on pain of Miss Walker herself tying him to a chair for twenty-four hours. That promise, however, only included Awakener activities. There was nothing about visiting one of his father's old friends in the wording, so James exited the house without hesitance.

As he navigated the streets, his new abilities continuously fed him information. He could sense the emotions and intentions of those around him with startling clarity. On the subway, he felt the anxious energy of a student fretting over an exam, the weary resignation of a worker heading to a job they didn't love, and the excitement of a tourist experiencing the city for the first time. That only happened rarely these days, as people preferred to only travel if it was for important reasons, but New York was still a big draw, at least for Americans.

At one point, he noticed a young woman glancing his way, her emotions a blend of curiosity and attraction as her eyes focused on his forearms and face. It was a strange, somewhat embarrassing realization, but it also underscored the depth and breadth of his new sensory capabilities. He smiled politely, acknowledging her, which made her face turn red and her emotions a mess, before returning his attention to the world outside the subway car.

Upon reaching Long Island and walking to the ice cream shop his grandfather liked so much, James's heightened senses made it relatively easy to locate his target. He felt Donovan's presence before he saw him – the disciplined aura of a trained soldier despite the civilian clothes stood out quite a bit. As he approached, James noticed the man's surprise as soon as he noticed him, a curious and guarded emotional response.

"Michael Donovan?" James asked as he came up to the man, extending a hand.

Donovan looked at him, his eyes widening slightly. "Yes, that's me. And you are?"

"I'm James Summers, Andrew Summers' son."

The recognition in Donovan's eyes was immediate, and a complex mix of emotions flooded through him – surprise, nostalgia, and a hint of sorrow. "James... You look just like him.” Donovan said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I knew that Andrew had a family, but I never... I should have reached out."

James could feel the genuine regret emanating from Donovan, a sentiment born from a long-held sense of duty and camaraderie. "It's okay. I'm here to learn more about him, about his time with you. Would you be willing to talk about him? I'm trying to learn from several different sources."

A surprising flash of fear went through the man, before resignation swept in. He was quiet for a moment, and sighed. "Yes, yes I can do that. Why don't you come in? It's a long story to tell."

The house was tidy but lived in. There were pictures of two men who looked like twin brothers and a woman with one of the two, Donovan, embracing him. As they settled into the living room, Donovan's demeanor remained tense, his emotions swirling with fear and reluctance.

James listened intently as the man began to speak, his enhanced senses parsing through the layers of emotion and half-truths. The story that unfolded was one of betrayal and abandonment. Donovan spoke of a mission gone wrong, of being left behind by the Awakeners they were supposed to cooperate with. It all painted a grim picture of his father's final moments.

"Andrew died because we were abandoned.” Donovan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I survived because I ran. I've lived with that choice ever since."

James's anger flared at the revelation, a righteous indignation at the injustice and cowardice that had led to his father's death. Yet, he grabbed hold of those emotions and shoved them down, focusing on the task at hand, wanting to extract the information he needed.

"Who were they? The Awakeners who left you behind?" James's voice was steady, but the intensity of his gaze bore into Donovan.

I just hope they aren't dead already. Please, let me have that pleasure.

The man's fear spiked, a palpable wave of anxiety that James could almost taste. "I-I can't say. If they find out I've talked…"

James's frustration grew as Donovan clammed up, refusing to name names. It was clear that fear held a tight grip on the man, fear of retribution from forces that still haunted him years later. It was surprising, how quickly he spiraled from the disciplined man he had met half an hour before.

Realizing that he wouldn't get more from Donovan through conversation, James asked himself a question.

Can I really do what's necessary to make him talk? This is my only lead… No, I need to know.