Ellie and Enzo were always so sure of themselves. So sure they knew better. What if they were right?

Vincent stared straight ahead as the small car drove through London. He barely registered the NGG propaganda that had replaced any semblance of the former culture that had once permeated this old city. His mind was on his destination, and how he’d handle being in a building with a hundred Psychics.

His hand absently went up to fiddle with the psy-shield that Emi had acquired for him, knowing that it alone wouldn’t be enough. Mist, mist, mist, he thought to himself, trying to revive the old habit as they moved slowly into old London. Next to him the local Guardian, Gretta, was still holding the perpetual glare that she’d met him with.

It felt fitting that they were driving through a light Radstorm. After more than a week at sea, the less than warm welcome hadn’t been a surprise, but it had been an irritation that soured his mood. Gretta had reminded him several times now that his presence was “unusual at best, an intrusion at worst”, but Vincent simply didn’t have the time for it. The Plan required that he be here, and so he was. He’d hoped he could rely solely on Lucia, but given her state of mind when she’d left, his expectations hadn’t been high.

He’d sent her into a den of Psychics. Her own kind, true, but he had always known how she felt about them. How she felt about any reminder of their mother, really. He wouldn’t be surprised if he discovered her once again locked in her room, refusing visitors and giving in to a very understandable depression. Still, there was the Plan.

At least she’d helped with Operation Veridicus. Vincent wondered if the broadcasts had become some kind of outlet for her. The power to influence millions had to be meaningful to his sister at a time where she no doubt felt powerless in her own life. The fact that so many of her recent suggestions had effectively been pro-Psychic propaganda seemed like another reflection on her life’s changing path.

As they passed increasingly old and dilapidated buildings, Vincent was struck by how small everything was here. He wasn’t a large man himself, but he couldn’t help but think about what it would have been like if he’d allowed Robert to join him. The large man wouldn’t have fit in the car, and certainly not through many of the small doors of the diminutive homes they were passing.

The giant hadn’t been happy to leave Vincent alone on such a dangerous trip, but Robert was far more valuable capturing and holding territory back in NTC. His prodigious strength was still rising, and his own reputation likely outstripped Vincent’s at this point. Vincent had proven himself deadly, but Berserker Bob had shown himself to be a walking catastrophe.

The man also lacked any real protection against Psychic influence, and no matter how the current Cult of the Mind tried to paint itself, Vincent wouldn’t deliver a weapon like Robert into their hands. Beyond that, Vincent was confident that his own powers were becoming sufficient for most common dangers. A few fortunately timed Radstorms had pushed him nearly to Initiate 9, and he had a good sense of the third ability that awaited him.

At last they slowed in front of a larger building, and the two of them exited the car without a word. As Gretta began to ascend the steps toward a set of double doors, she finally spoke. “You will be expected to maintain a level of decorum and respect at all times while you’re on the premises. You are a guest here, and your welcome can be rescinded at any time.”

Vincent nodded, “I’m just here to see my family. Surely the Cult still has families?”

“Indeed,” she said, while opening the door. “But bringing them to our private compounds is a privilege, not a right. See that you don’t abuse the hospitality we’re offering you.”

“Of course,” he replied, following her into the building. He looked around the opulent mansion as he crossed the threshold, seemingly leaving behind one world and entering another. The color, the antiques, the wealth, it all seemed to be an open insult to the drab and depressed city they’d just traveled through. He looked down at his black shoes on Persian carpets, and wondered exactly where all of it came from.

“Would you like to be shown to a guest suite first, or–”

“I’d like to see my sister. It’s been some time, and I’m worried about her, as you can imagine. She wasn’t in the best of spirits when we last spoke.”

Gretta seemed to be holding back a sigh, but she nodded, and began heading down a hallway. She stopped the first teenager she saw, and after a whispered question continued in the direction they’d been going. “Lucia has been spending much of her time in one of the meditation rooms with a view of the gardens, follow me,” she commanded.

At least Lucia’s not locked in her room, Vincent thought, and they continued through the mansion. Every time they passed someone in the hall, Vincent could swear he felt a tickle cross his thoughts, and soon his mood was falling even further. Mist, mist, mist, he repeated silently.

At last they entered a mid-sized, but brightly lit room, with one wall entirely covered in windows. There were chairs of numerous types scattered around, as well as pillows and rugs, clearly for sitting or kneeling on in meditation. Perhaps because it was close to lunch time, the room was nearly empty. That was, of course, with the exception of his sister, and a boy she appeared to be flirting with.

She looked…happy, which was surprisingly difficult for Vincent to wrap his mind around. He simply hadn’t seen her looking that way since…the Farm, maybe? Even then it had been more about confidence or perhaps contentment, but now she seemed bright, somehow. It was something Vincent realized he didn’t recognize in her, and he didn’t fully understand his own feelings about that.

She was dressed in comfortable clothes, certainly nothing to reveal her as a Psychic, and her long black hair was tied back, though some had spilled out in front of her face. Her companion appeared to be about their age, with dark skin and dark hair, and he was grinning at her in a way that even Vincent could recognize was more than just friendly. They both turned in unison when they realized they were no longer alone, but their reactions were very different.

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Lucia looked…embarrassed? Scared, even? While the boy seemed almost angry. Was it just because Vincent had interrupted them, or was there something more behind that look. Lucia would understand, but somehow he doubted she’d explain.

“Vincenzo?” she said in open surprise. Clearly she had been lax in checking the deadrop for messages. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” Vincent replied, though he could tell it sounded hollow. Somehow putting in the effort to be extra emotive the way he normally did around others seemed particularly disingenuous in a building full of empaths.

“What?” she said back, her mind clearly trying to catch up. “I had no idea you were coming.” Lucia hastily took her hand back from the boy who was failing to disguise a scowl, and she ran over to give Vincent a hug.

“Can we go somewhere to catch up?” he asked, and Lucia’s face immediately fell into a familiar, long-suffering expression.

“Introductions first, little brother.” She turned to the Guardian. “Thank you, Gretta, I’ll take responsibility for him from here.” His escort nodded, and left without another word. Lucia then took Vincent’s hand and led him to the boy, who was forcing a smile

“Vincent, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, this is Jeffrey.”

“Jeff,” the boy said, standing up and stretching out a hand to shake. Once again Vincent felt a tickle in his mind, and he forced a smile while accepting the greeting.

“It’s a pleasure, Jeffrey, I’m Vincent Villari,” he released the handshake, noting its unnecessary tightness, then turned back to his sister. “It’s been a long trip, Lucia, I’d really appreciate a chance to sit down with you and talk. I’m sure Jeffrey understands the desire for privacy.” He hit the last word hard, adding a quick glance at the boy, who blushed.

Lucia just rolled her eyes, the way he’d seen a thousand times. “We can talk in my room. I’ll catch up with you at dinner, Jeffrey.”

“Are you sure?” the boy asked, and this time it was Vincent who rolled his eyes. To her credit, Lucia didn’t appear to enjoy the unnecessary protectiveness either.

“Do I strike you as indecisive, Jeff?” He cleared his throat at that, obviously knowing Lucia well enough to understand he’d misstepped.

“Dinner it is,” the boy said lightly, walking around the siblings and heading for the door. “Nice meeting you, Vince. Welcome to London, yeah?” He disappeared through the door without waiting for a response.

“I can see you’ve been busy,” Vincent said, with a pointed look.

“I have been busy, Vincenzo, and I’ll show you with what, soon. Follow me,” she said, leading them from the room and back toward the entrance. Jeffrey was already out of sight, but Vincent still had to endure Psychic scratching from a few more people as they made their way through the house. They went upstairs, and soon Lucia was shutting the door behind them.

Vincent considered the room, which was much better taken care of than the one back in NTC. There was some clothes on the floor, but no leftover food, and it was generally clean. The furniture looked well-used, and the curtains were open, letting in the green-tinged light of the passing storm. Vincent noticed what was clearly a man’s shirt behind a chair, and shook his head in disappointment.

“So,” he said pointedly, “tell me how it’s been.”

“Challenging, but productive,” she answered, with only a touch of defensiveness. She gestured at a wooden chair with an old-fashioned patterned pillow on it for him to sit, then went and sat on her own bed. “I’m close Vincent, so close.”

Vincent felt his hopes stir as he draped his black overcoat across the offeredchair. He spoke as he lowered himself into it. “You’ve found the weapon?” he asked in an excited whisper. A look of guilt flashed across his sister’s face.

“Well, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean that I’m close to erasing mind control!” She said it with such enthusiasm, as if he should understand why it was so exciting. Instead, he couldn’t stop himself from bursting from his chair.

“Damn it, Lucia! What is it with you two? Danny is trying to be the next Legacy, not caring that the man murdered our mother, and you’re–what? Trying to fix a father you don’t even know? Doesn’t anyone care about the Plan? Doesn’t anyone but me actually want to stop the NGG? Have you completely forgotten about the Farm? About the rest of the world?”

Lucia was speechless for a moment, and Vincent realized his face was warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone on such a tirade, his emotions so utterly out of control. Was it this place? Are they in my head already? His hand reflexively went to the psy-shielding collar around his neck.

After a long moment, Lucia seemed to realized what he was doing. “Whatever that is, it’s working. You don’t need to worry,” she said in a small voice. “I’ve never felt something that powerful before. As far as my abilities are concerned, it’s like you don’t even exist.” Vincent’s hand fell away from the collar, and he took a calming breath.

Seeing that he was settling down, Lucia continued speaking. “I haven’t forgotten about the Farm, Vincent. Or the NGG, or the world, or even the Plan. But I came here to master my abilities, and that’s what I’ve been doing. And yes, part of that is because I want to save our father.” She paused, giving him a serious look. “Are you ready to tell me where he is?”

Vincent let himself fall back into the chair. He needed Lucia here. He needed her looking for the weapon, and helping with the broadcasts. “When you come home, we’ll see him together,” he answered at last. She looked upset, but didn’t argue. “Did you really figure out how to help him?” he asked.

“I think so. It took some time to unlock the ability, so I haven’t been able to work on it as long as I’d like. Still, I think I understand the theory. Soon I should be able to help anyone who’s a victim of mind control.” Vincent ignored her implication. He wasn’t here for that conversation.

“Has our uncle been helping you?” he asked.

“No, I…I’ve been avoiding him, honestly. I can’t figure out if I can trust him, so I wasn’t willing to risk it. Besides, he’s away right now.” Vincent looked up at that, but Lucia was still talking. “I’ve been working with Master Illara, she’s become something of a mentor to me. She…she knew mom, and has a better sense for mind-control than most people around here. Even in the Cult, that ability is pretty taboo.”

Vincent barely heard her. “Uncle Marco isn’t here?” he asked.

Lucia cocked her head, “He’s been gone for a few days. He leaves a lot. I think he visits the other compounds.”

Once more Vincent stood up suddenly. “Where’s his room?”

Lucia immediately looked hesitant, “What are you planning, Vincenzo?”

“We need information, and you’ve failed to attain it. So we’re going to take a look around. It’s not a perfect Plan, but it’s the start of one, and sadly that’s all we have right now.” He walked toward the door as she ran a hand over her face.

“Come on Lucia, let’s go find out what we can about dear Uncle Marco.”