Chapter 48: Calculated Observations

A few days ago

Dr. Evelyn Mercer stood at her desk, the sterile scent of the Academy’s high-level offices hanging in the air. The data reports on Jake and Levi’s recent public exposure blinked on the monitor, numbers and lines charting emotional responses, physical readings, and social interactions. She swiped through the data with calm precision, watching the live feed of the common area.

Talia Reed stood across from her, her usual composed demeanor present, though her eyes were focused on the monitor. “We’re seeing surprisingly little resistance. They haven’t spoken to anyone in detail yet.”

Mercer barely glanced up from the report, her expression unreadable. “They won’t. Foster and Blackwell know better.”

Talia’s eyebrow lifted slightly, but she didn’t comment. She shifted her stance, eyes narrowing on the screen where a few students had gathered near Jake and Levi’s table. A couple were chatting nearby, not openly, but cautiously observing the pair.

“They’ve adapted to the attention. More than I anticipated,” Talia commented, almost absentmindedly.

“Attention is a tool,” Mercer said evenly, her tone giving nothing away. She clicked through the data, scrolling through comments made by students on public social media. Her decision to let them out had been carefully calculated. The trick was controlling the narrative without giving the appearance of control.

The chatter around Jake and Levi was expected—the Academy’s handling of Galewood had been delicate, at best. But Mercer knew this experiment wasn’t about protecting them from rumors; it was about seeing their reactions. After all, nothing tests a metahuman like pressure.

“They’ve integrated smoothly enough for now,” Mercer added, crossing her arms. “Let the students become accustomed to them being around. The more they see Foster and Blackwell in ordinary settings, the less remarkable their presence becomes.”

Talia tapped a pen thoughtfully against her folder, her expression calculating. “We’re keeping an eye on the social media response, but it’s… mixed. There’s curiosity about Galewood, of course, but nothing that points to a breach in control.”

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“Good.” Mercer’s eyes flicked toward the live feed of Jake, sitting at the edge of the common area, his posture tense, his gaze unreadable. Levi sat beside him, smirking at something on his tablet. She could read the emotions across their faces well enough without sound. Controlled tension on one side, amused detachment on the other. No signs of rebellion—yet.

“They won’t jeopardize themselves,” she continued, moving from behind her desk to look at the large screen more directly. “They understand what’s at stake.”

Talia gave a slight nod, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—skepticism, maybe. It didn’t matter. Mercer had orchestrated every angle of this exposure, from how they were reintroduced into the student body to the public’s carefully crafted perception of two “misunderstood” metahumans. The key was not letting anyone suspect they were anything but cooperative subjects.

“The more comfortable the students feel around them, the less they’ll ask questions,” Mercer added, her gaze still fixed on the screen. “Which gives us more time. People forget about anomalies once they become part of the scenery.”

“And if they don’t?” Talia asked, her tone sharper now, her mind already running calculations.

Mercer’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then we remind them who’s in control.”

She returned to her desk, pulling up the reports on Blackwell’s emotional baseline since his release into the general population. His flat readings were still consistent, though occasional spikes when Jake interacted with him revealed traces of old emotion. Good. That connection was useful, though not vital. Levi’s indifference kept him from being a threat for now. And Jake… Jake still carried the weight of Galewood, making him predictable. So long as he blamed himself, she had him exactly where she needed him.

“Keene is pressing for more containment protocols,” Talia remarked, her voice quieter now. “He doesn’t trust them outside the restricted areas.”

Mercer smiled faintly. “Keene’s methods are effective in the short term. But we need to play the long game here. Panic responses lead to cracks in control. They’ll toe the line for now.”

Talia didn’t argue. Mercer watched her for a moment, weighing her role in the larger scheme. Talia had proven loyal, useful, but she lacked the instinct for subtlety that Mercer relied on. People like Keene and Vance preferred blunt force, but Mercer knew when to let pressure build slowly. It yielded better results.

As the live feed cycled to another camera view, showing students in the cafeteria and classrooms, Mercer tapped her fingers lightly on the desk. She glanced at a separate report—the one tracking public sentiment since Jake and Levi’s reappearance. Numbers were stabilizing. The Academy’s PR strategy was working for now. The more the public saw the boys as assets instead of threats, the longer Mercer could maintain control without external intervention.

“Let’s schedule another round of interactions with students,” she said after a moment, her voice calm. “Something low-level. Controlled interaction. We’ll show the public that they’re capable of functioning within normal parameters.”

Talia nodded, already making notes. “I’ll arrange it.”

“And Talia,” Mercer added as she leaned back in her chair, her gaze hardening. “Make sure Jonas Keene’s task force doesn’t interfere.”

Talia’s pen hovered above the page for a second, but she quickly scribbled down the note. “Understood.”

As Talia left the office, Mercer allowed herself a moment of silence. She could feel the pressure tightening around her, from Keene, from Vance, from the students themselves. Everyone had their agendas, their doubts. But that was fine. It was all part of the game. The key to survival wasn’t brute strength—it was control, and Mercer had been playing this game far too long to lose now.

Her eyes shifted back to the live feed, focusing on Jake and Levi once more. So far, they were playing along. But Mercer knew better than to purely trust appearances.