Stanson did his best to ignore Agent Strom, not that Strom was the man’s real name. Stanson had been downright shocked to see him at the airfield, but he’d contained it well before anyone could notice. He knew enough to act like he’d never met the man before, but he was one of maybe a dozen people who knew who Strom really was. The fact that guy was here said a whole hell of a lot about just how serious the Director had been when he’d said not to take “No” for an answer.

When Stanson had first arrived at the airfield the team he was to meet was waiting for him next to a private jet. Hurricane and Athena were easily identifiable in their “uniforms”, and Strom was wearing a suit that practically screamed “Agent”. It was the kind of clichéd suit you expected the “men in black” to wear. Stanson’s own suit was custom tailored. Of course he would have been happy with a more casual off-the-rack suit from a generic clothing store, but his wife insisted on quality. One of the perks of a rare and highly sought power was the pay.

Introductions had been brusque, with Agent Strom reiterating some variation of “We need to hurry” for every minute it took to get the jet in the air. Currently Strom was near the cockpit speaking fiercely but quietly into his phone, trying to arrange god knows what. Hurricane was seated across from Stanson doing his best to pretend he was reading a paper, but Stanson could tell he was listening to Strom’s conversation because as Strom continued to talk the tension around Hurricane’s eyes gradually increased. Speaking quietly didn’t prevent eavesdropping by someone who could control air.

Athena was sitting a few seats back looking out the window and moving around as little as possible. Stanson hadn’t been able to resist doing a Deep Read on one of the small number of Class-9s on the whole planet. The girl – no, woman, he reminded himself – defined the term indestructible. He imagined that having to treat the entire world like it was made of rice paper was its own special kind of hell.

He felt the instant the new Healer Prime entered his defined radius as the emanation solidified into a specific point. Strom had apparently been paying attention to Stanson’s mind because he immediately hung up his phone and made a beeline back to Stanson’s seat. Stanson deeply wished he had Class-5 Psychic Armor, sadly he was only a Class-4 in that regard. It could be worse, he reminded himself, without at least a Class-3 rating he would’ve been confined to a secure location and had a squadron of bodyguards with Psychic Armor surrounding him anytime he was let out. One of the drawbacks to a highly sought after power.

“Well?” Strom demanded as he stood over Stanson. He didn’t bother to clarify the ‘what’.

“The Healer is currently 9.7 miles northeast and closing fast,” he said. He pulled out his phone and pulled up a specialized GPS program designed by the government exclusively for him. He quickly plotted out the rough position of the Healer and brought up the location via satellite imagery. “It looks like the Healer will be just inside my defined zone from where we’re landing at. I won’t be able to pinpoint the Healer’s exact location until we stop moving.”

Strom nodded. “Good. Are there any other supers in the Healer’s immediate vicinity, and if so what are they?”

Stanson didn’t need to be a Telepath to know what Strom wanted. If the Healer had supers as family, friends, or roommates and they were licensed then they might be able to determine the Healer’s identity before they were on scene. Stanson did a quick check. “There’s one,” he said. He performed a quick Deep Read. “A combination mid-level Class-3/3 Telepath and high-end Class-4 Plant Elemental.”

Strom smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant, though Stanson understood why. That combination was almost as rare as a Class-9, so determining who it was that lived in that area would be exceedingly simple. Strom went to one of the jet’s built-in computer terminals and logged into the BSA network.

They hadn’t even touched down yet when he announced, “Got it. Our Healer is almost certainly Leena Brightwater, daughter of Joseph Brightwater.” He pulled up a picture of her on a large screen toward the front of the jet just as they touched down. Stanson gawked, right along with Hurricane and Athena. The girl was an Almost, in fact she damn near bordered on Mutant her appearance was so distinctive.

“The girl just turned 18 three weeks ago, so luckily we won’t have to deal with any of the restrictions on handling minors,” said Strom with a satisfied air. Stanson grimaced, and so did the two NSRT agents. They knew what Strom really meant was now it would be easier to take the girl kicking and screaming if they had to without causing a PR nightmare.

As they taxied to the hangar where their transport waited Strom turned back to Stanson. “Do a Deep Read on her. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with.” Stanson suppressed his desire to glare at Strom and nodded. He began the Deep Read, and was promptly glad he was sitting down because otherwise he’d have fallen flat on his ass.

Ho-ly Shit!, was the only thought going through Stanson’s mind. Strom was hovering over him before he’d managed to reclaim his equilibrium. “What is it?! What’s going on?!” demanded Strom.

Stanson took a few moments to sort out what he was feeling. “This girl,” he said, “isn’t a normal Healer.” Strom looked at him with an emphatically implied ‘And?!’ “She’s an Energy Healer, but only in the same sense that a Rock Elemental is still technically an Earth Elemental. She’s something I’ve never sensed before.” He gave all of them a serious look, and they noticed the sweat that had broken out on his brow. “And whatever she is, she’s obscenely dangerous.”

All of their eyebrows went up, and Strom asked disbelievingly, “How so?”

Stanson held up two fingers. “Two ways. First, and least important, she’s not just a Healer. She’s also an upper-end Class-4 Brick and she’s Armored across the board pretty much as well as Athena here.” Strom looked thoughtful as he nodded for Stanson to continue. “And secondly, and most importantly, my ability tells me so.”

The jet came to a complete stop as he said this. Athena and Hurricane looked at him curiously, but Strom asked derisively, “What do you mean, your ‘ability’ tells you so?”

Stanson did his best to repress a raised eyebrow, and his irritation, at Strom’s asshole act, and he knew it was an act. Regardless, he held up his right hand, and they could all see it was shaking. “That’s the fading adrenaline from an instinctive fight or flight reaction caused by my Sensor abilities. Most Sensors wouldn’t even realize what it was it’s so rare. I’m likely the most powerful, and certainly the most widely used, Sensor on the planet. And I’ve only ever done 3 other Deep Reads before that caused it.” He looked intensely at Strom. “The Flesh Lord.” He turned to Hurricane as Strom’s brows drew down in concern. “The Siren.” Hurricane grimaced as he turned to Athena. “And The Beast.” Athena’s eyebrows nearly made it to her hairline.

They all looked at each other, sharing the concern of this new information. Then Athena smiled. As the jet’s main door opened she said, “It seems my lost day off might be worth it yet.”

*****

Tabby looked at the yard of the two-story house they’d pulled up outside. It was very well manicured and all the bushes, flowers, and grass looked vibrant and healthy, but it didn’t seem like the kind of yard one would expect of a plant elemental. Of course it likely would’ve been extremely high-maintenance for a normal gardener.

There had been yet another black SUV waiting for them at the airstrip and the ride to their destination had been both short and silent. Strom spent the whole ride looking thoughtful after Stanson’s revelation. As for herself, Tabby was rather excited. This healer girl was apparently on the same playing field as The Beast and her curiosity was most definitely piqued.

Strom addressed them all before they got out of the vehicle. "Stanson, you're going to take the lead talking to the girl and her family." Stanson raised an eyebrow and Tabby was intrigued as well. She didn't think Strom was the type to give up control of an operation. Of course, then he kept speaking.

"You're our 'soft sell' option. If you can't get the girl to agree to come with us then I'll take over as the 'hard sell'." He gave Stanson a grave look. "Let's hope you're convincing enough that proves unnecessary."

Hurricane took the moment of silence after that comment to ask, "And what are me and Athena here for?"

Strom gave them both a condescending look. "You're here to be easily recognizable and pretty public figures while providing security if it's needed." Tabby bristled a bit, but before either she or Steve could say anything Strom's voice turned cold. "You're also here in case we have to go with the really hard sell. And if Stanson is to be believed, we should all pray that doesn't come to pass."

Tabby felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. She could tell the same was true for Steve and Stanson by the looks on their faces. And for the three of them it wasn't because of Stanson's warning. It was because the "really hard sell" would basically amount to kidnapping the girl on behalf of the government. If push came to shove, she wasn't sure she could actually do it.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Alright, let's get to it." As Strom said that he opened his door and exited the vehicle. Tabitha and the others shared one last look, then exited the vehicle as well. Tabby was a bit slower as she had to be extra careful not to break the door.

The walk to the house's front door was both short and incredibly long. Tabby's body was mostly on auto-pilot from all the training she'd done over the years, her eyes and ears sweeping the area looking for anything unusual and potential threats. But her brain was in an ever deepening quagmire. She'd never agreed with the way the Healer Prime was treated, but she'd never been personally involved. Now she was participating in an operation that would severely curtail and undermine the freedom and rights of a teenage girl, all in the name of the supposed "greater good". The extreme moral questionability was enough to make her nauseous, a feeling that for her could only be psychosomatic.

Regardless of her feelings, they reached the door of the house and Strom rang the doorbell. Nearly a minute later, as Strom was about to ring the doorbell again, the door opened on a lightly tanned man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Of course Tabby had seen the files that Strom brought up and knew this was the girl's father, Joseph Brightwater.

Strom went right to it. "Mr. Brightwater, we are with the NSRT and are here on behalf of the United States Bureau of Superhuman Affairs. We would like to speak with your daughter. May we come in?" That last sentence may have seemed like a request, but it most assuredly was not.

Mr. Brightwater had a sadly resigned smile on his face that made Tabby's heart clench. "Of course, we've been expecting you," he said, and stepped aside to allow them entrance. Strom lead them into the house and Mr. Brightwater closed the door behind them.

The inside of the house was more in line with what Tabby would expect of a Plant Elemental. There was vegetation ab-so-lute-ly everywhere. The only visible free space seemed to be the walkways in-between the various plants. There were trees, bushes, ferns, vines, grasses, and even weeds of numerous variety. Tabby had seen in the files earlier that Mr. Brightwater was the Assistant Director of the New York Botanical Gardens. She assumed he'd acquired samples from there to create this seemingly private replica.

As they walked down the hallway to what Tabby hoped would be a normal room, the plants reached out to touch Mr. Brightwater as he passed. From this Tabby knew that these plants were all "awakened", a term used for plants constantly exposed to the energies emanating from Plant Elementals which granted them a form of consciousness and mobility that shouldn't be possible without a muscular system.

Tabitha didn't dislike Plant Elementals, but she tried to avoid them. The reason stemmed from the fact that as she walked down the hall, the plants all started getting touchy-feely with her too. She had no idea why, but "awakened" plants seemed to be completely fascinated by her, and she found the questing leaves, vines, and branches a little creepy.

She saw Mr. Brightwater pause for a moment and turn back to look at her. For just a second there was a flash of surprise on his face that washed away the sadness in his eyes, but it passed all too quickly as the sad, resigned expression returned. He turned away from her and continued down the hall.

At last he led them into a nice living room with a few chairs and a large sofa, with plenty of plant-free space. The hallway was by no means long enough for an "at last" feeling, but to Tabby it may as well have been. She was just so happy to finally be far enough from any plants that they couldn't keep examining her like she held the answers to existence itself.

Finally paying attention to the actual room, there she was, Leena Brightwater. She was sitting on the sofa with a giant tabby cat in her lap and a book bag at her feet. And she was staring straight at Tabby, a completely enraptured look on her face. There was only one thought in Tabitha's head when seeing that look: Huh?

****************

Ares stood at attention in front of a desk. If it had been possible there would have been cold sweat running in streams down his back. The splendor of the Tokyo skyline outside the windows could not draw his attention from the seemingly old, frail man sitting behind the desk before him, his current employer. Ares didn't normally directly meet with his employers or even know who they really were, they and himself preferring to keep a buffer layer of plausible deniability between them. But when Ares turned over the "acquisitions" and reported on the job he'd been directed here to explain himself.

Despite the lackluster results of the mission due to unforeseen factors, Ares had originally approached this meeting calmly with little worry besides the bad mark for his reputation. He'd even brought Marcos and Phil with him to help better explain the situation. But now, knowing who his employer was, he deeply regretted even hearing about this job, let alone accepting it. And he realized he may have just dragged two of his subordinates and friends into the bowels of hell with him.

There were relatively few people in the world who would know the identity of the person sitting behind the desk, and Ares was unfortunately among those. Unfortunate, because he knew exactly what kind of horrid fate awaited them if this man was not pleased with their results. This man referred to himself as Tokigami, though the western world, enamored as it was with Greek and Roman codenames, referred to him by a different title: Chronos.

The public believed there to be only 3 "Monsters", or "Gods", independent supers with powers that made them basically invincible. The truth was there were only 3 because those were the ones who made a big splash on the world stage. In reality there were at least 6, the other 3 happening to prefer subtlety and anonymity. Tokigami was one of them.

This man basically ruled half of the entire underworld, and speculation was that it would already be all of it if his attention hadn't been stolen by one of the most horrible super-diseases to spring up in the last 40 years, "the Burnout". Frankly, the fact the man was still alive after 3 years was a testament to both his resources and ruthlessness. Seeing him now, Ares was well aware of just how precarious a tightrope he and his men were walking. What was essentially a matter of Tokigami's life and death had now become a matter of theirs.

Tokigami steepled his fingers in front of him and said in a tired voice, "I've read the report on your mission, Mr. Nichols." Ares flinched, very few knew his real name was Aaron Nichols, and even they afforded him the courtesy of using his assumed name. "I hired you because you are one of the best mercenary units in the world, with success rates rivaled by very few. That being said, I would like to hear why I should find your rather lackluster results in the face of no outside interference... acceptable."

Ares gulped. He knew that convincing Tokigami that their results were the absolute best that just about anyone could have done was the only way he and his men were leaving this room alive. As such, he needed to make a request before he started his explanation.

"Sir, is it possible to have someone capable of Truth Reading brought in for my report?" Marcos and Phil looked askance at their leader, both for his deferential attitude and his request. In their line of work it was considered insulting to have their word doubted to the point of bringing in a Truth Reader. But they had the comfort of not knowing just who it was they were facing.

Tokigami stared at him for a moment, before nodding his head at something behind Ares' group. "I happen to always have a Truth Reader with me, Mr. Nichols." Ares looked back at the guard standing next to the elevator that brought them to this office. The man nodded his head slightly. Ares turned back to face Tokigami. "You may begin your report."

And so Ares recited everything about their mission, from initial target tracking and assignment, to the results of Phil's pre-cognition abilities and Marcos' Deep Read and their ultimate acquisition and delivery of the Tertiary targets. At the end Tokigami glanced to the guard who slightly nodded his head. He then refocused on Ares.

"Well, at the very least you believe everything you've said to be true. Still, I can't help feeling quite... disappointed." Sensing that things may be heading in an unfavorable direction, Ares turned to Phil.

"Phil!"

Phil looked a little startled. "Yes sir?" God, how Ares envied Phil's ignorance.

"I need you to run some numbers. If we had a Teleporter send us immediately to retrieve the Primary target, what are our odds of success and chance of death. Similarly if our employer chose to send his own forces to assist us."

Ares could sense the questions Phil wanted to ask him, but he simply sent back a look that said 'Just do it!' And so Phil closed his eyes and ran the numbers. When he opened them he gave the response Ares was expecting, and oddly quite happy to hear.

"We have a 0% chance of success and a 99.8% chance of total team wipe. Though I don't know what forces our employer might send to aid us, the results are similar, a 0% chance of success and a 98.9% chance of total team wipe."

Ares did his best to hide a relieved smile when he saw the guard nod towards Tokigami. He had to try even harder when Tokigami sighed and began to rub his temples.

"Well, this is an unexpected development." He sighed again. "Very well, I accept that you did the best you could under the circumstances. However, your pay will be halved. I trust that is acceptable."

"Most acceptable, sir." He could sense that his colleagues wanted to protest, but he gave them a subtle hand sign to remain silent.

"You are dismissed." With that Tokigami brought up a projection from his desk and promptly relegated their group to irrelevance. This suited Ares just fine as he gathered up Phil and Marcos and practically fled past the guard into the elevator.

As they went down it was Marcos that spoke up first. "Boss, just what the hell was that? You practically just bent over and let that asshole ride you bareback." With the way Phil was looking at him, Ares could tell Phil felt the same.

"Phil," Ares said, "if we gathered up the team and went back up to that office to demand our full pay, what are the odds we get out alive?" Phil looked at him like he was losing his mind. "Humor me, Phil."

And so Phil shrugged and closed his eyes. A few seconds later he shivered and broke out in sweat. He looked at Ares with a shocked and slightly thankful expression. Marcos seemed a bit confused, but quickly seemed to realize what Phil's condition meant. "Boss, you mean...?"

"That's right. We all just barely got out of that room with our lives. That man is someone none of us can afford to offend." That got both of them quiet and thinking.

As the elevator arrived back at the ground floor Phil asked, "So what are we going to do now, Boss?"

Ares sighed. "We're going to collect our pay, and then promptly forget we were ever here and that the man we just met even exists. Then we're going to lay low until this particular fiasco is over and hope it doesn't come back to bite us in the ass. Understood?"

"Sure thing, Boss." "Definitely." Came their responses. And as they left the elevator Ares took a moment to think. He had enough money at this point to live lavishly for a few lifetimes. Maybe, just maybe, he should consider an early retirement so he'd have the opportunity to enjoy it.