They’ll exterminate us all.
Vincent was leaning against the wall in his dorm room, staring at nothing. Memories of today’s ‘demonstration’ played out over and over in his mind, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Lucia was similarly lost in thought, sitting on his bed quietly. Vincent absently wondered whose thoughts she was lost in, but knew that was a deadend.
Danny was dealing in his own way, tossing a ball against the opposite wall and catching it. Every minute or so he’d stop, shake his head as if disagreeing with himself, then throw the ball again. Vincent considered what his role was in this moment, and decided he had to try to get their minds elsewhere.
“Danny, did you sign up for harvester duty?” his friend turned and looked at him in disbelief, and the ball fell and rolled under the bed.
“Is that seriously what you’re thinking about? After what we just saw? Ironfist is a god damned psycho!”
“I saw, but the difference is that I wasn’t surprised. I’ve been telling you what the heroes are like for years,” Vincent answered. Lucia had looked up and was watching them, an unreadable expression on her face.
Danny looked more upset for some reason. “What do you mean ‘heroes’, plural? Legacy was everything he was supposed to be! He was inspiring and…and heroic!” Danny was standing now, his face turning red. “I bet he was embarrassing that metal asshole because he knew he deserved it!”
Lucia sighed out loud at that, and Danny spun on her. “Not you too?” Lucia’s voice was calm when she replied.
“I don’t really know what Legacy is like, Danny, but do you think anything good came from what he did to Ironfist? At best, he just didn’t think about the consequences, and…well, someone with power like his, who doesn’t consider how his actions might affect others is dangerous, Danny.”
Danny appeared even angrier, and he rapidly looked back and forth between the siblings, seeming to be daring them to keep talking. Neither did. At last he swore, and moved toward the door. He turned the handle then paused, and turned back. “I signed up for stupid harvester duty. I’ll do whatever it takes to save Lucia…because that’s what heroes do.” He quickly left then, slamming the door behind him.
The two Villaris went back to their silence for a time. They both knew how hard this was for Danny, and Lucia reminded Vincent seemingly every day to cut their friend as much slack as possible. Unfortunately, just because they weren’t going to talk about Danny, didn’t mean Lucia didn’t have a sermon planned.
“Do you really need more convincing that these kids need your help? There’s Power Farms all over the world, and tragedies like today’s are happening all the time,” Vincent didn’t feel like rehashing the same argument.
“We still need to find a way to disable our harnesses,” he said as if his sister hadn’t spoken. She narrowed her eyes, but she knew Vincent well enough to understand when she wasn’t going to win ground in an argument. Instead she let out a sigh.
“You took our KDs, didn’t tell us where, and came back with them scrubbed and connected to the secret government branch of the Network in one night. You really can’t use the same mysterious method to flick a switch on our harnesses?”
“I imagine the explosive charges are more complex than you’re implying, but I take your point. Unfortunately I don’t think we can trust my contact for something like this. Even asking is as much as admitting we’re planning to escape, and that level of trust is beyond this relationship,” Lucia just waited. Was she hoping he’d say more, or was she listening to his thoughts, trying to ferret out the truth another way?
Mist, mist, mist…Stop it!, he said to himself, and maybe to Lucia as well, just in case.
“Beyond that, we wouldn’t know if it worked until the day comes and we either explode or don’t. I’d rather find something more definitive if we can,” he leaned his head back against the wall, thinking. “If we can’t find a better option…I’ll ask. But trust me that we really want to find a better option.”
Vincent glanced down at his K-Device, checking the time. “I need to go, Villain Studies starts soon,” he said in a flat tone.
“Don’t go, Vincent, not today. You know who the subject is,” her voice was pleading, and honestly…it nearly worked.
“Under the circumstances, I think it would be harder on you than me,” he said instead, and left his dorm.
As Vincent walked through the quiet campus, there were signs everywhere of the after-effects of today’s demonstration. He passed several younger students crying quietly in one alcove or another, and the rumors were everywhere. Apparently the student he hadn’t known was named Cole, and he wasn’t expected to walk again.
Vincent let it all roll over him, as it suited his mood, and that of the class he was going to. Like Instructor Smythe’s lectures on Heroes, this one repeated case studies often, and focused on the Prophet most of all. The Psychic War was the biggest confrontation between super powered beings since the invasion, and it hadn’t been that long ago.
Stepping into the classroom, it was immediately apparent that a number of students were missing, but he still saw a few he recognized. Eric Palmer was there, and Vincent briefly wondered how Danny would handle being on the harvester team with him. Kristy and Elena were there as well, sitting next to each other like they had in the cafeteria the other night.
Vincent found his customary seat behind Emi Sato. He considered that he’d no longer need to spy on her KD to watch Veridicus’ broadcasts, though another one wasn’t expected for a few days. Instead he sat up straight and waited for Instructor Callum to begin the lecture.
The older man entered soon after, squinting at the fluorescent light in the concrete bunker of a room, and quickly turned off the row above the board and projector. As usual, he wasted no time. “Today we’ll be discussing the greatest Villain of our age: the Prophet. I know we’ve covered this topic before, so consider this a refresher for some of you, and an introduction for our newer students.”
A glance told Vincent that there were no new students in the class today, but that would never bother Instructor Callum, who appeared to never tire of discussing those he claimed were the worst people in history. “Of course, we cannot discuss the Prophet without also talking about the Psychic war, and the Cult of the Mind.”
He flicked on the projector, and absently flipped through still images as he spoke. Some were relevant, others less so. Currently it was a shot of the crowds protesting the rising number of supers Manifesting the Psychic class.
“You should know from Instructor Smythe’s class that the late 1980s saw a significant rise in second generation Adepts. To review: all of the naturally occurring Adepts were killed in the invasion, save for the Great Hero himself, of course. However, by the 1960s a whole new generation had been born, and the world was flooded with potential supers.
“However, this first generation was quite limited, as the Network and harnesses didn’t yet exist,” he looked out over the class, his eyes stopping on Eric. “Mr. Palmer, can you tell me what happens to an Adept without a harness to regulate their Alpha-intake?” Eric wasn’t known for being particularly bright, but no one would get this question wrong.
“They explode, sir,” Eric replied without hesitation.
“Correct! Our bodies are virtually incapable of self-regulating the radiation expelled by the Watcher. If one is born an Adept–capable of metabolizing the radiation in any of its forms–then that energy will take hold, gather, and eventually explode.”
Elena raised her hand, and Instructor Callum nodded at her, “How did the Great Hero survive?” she asked, and Vincent realized he hadn’t seen her in Power Studies before, some of this actually would be new to her.
“A very small percentage of Adepts have proven talented enough to be able to control their excess energy before it reaches volatility. Believe it or not, the Great Hero claimed he was only capable of doing so because his own power was comparatively low.” Vincent leaned forward, he hadn’t heard that piece of trivia before.
Elena looked as fascinated as he was, “The Great Hero thought he was weak?” she said in disbelief. “But then how was he capable of…well, everything he accomplished?”
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Instructor Callum looked a bit irritated now, “Those questions should be saved for Hero studies. For now, all I’ll say is that humans have proven to be particularly suitable hosts for the asteroid’s radiation, and the Great Hero had unique advantages that he was able to exploit during the invasion.” He flicked to another side, making it clear the subject was closed.
A blueprint of one of the first harnesses appeared on the large screen. Another click sounded, and the image switched to a man having one installed. The metal rivets were attached to every vertebrae along the spine, and Vincent winced in sympathy. The early models must have been remarkably uncomfortable, sticking out as far as they did–though obviously they were better than exploding.
Vincent could feel his own harness through his clothing, but only if he thought about it. His had been installed when he was a child, and the metal paneling was so flat he could lie on his back without noticing it. “Thankfully the NGG, with the help of Tecnico and his team of Tech Knights, managed to create the harnesses, and the Network to run them.”
Vincent shook his head slightly. Everyone in the NGG liked to skip past the nearly two decades of Adepts exploding without warning all over the planet, massively disrupting a painfully slow recovery from the invasion, and causing an entire generation of people to live in constant fear. Would you simply explode someday, without warning? Would your neighbors? Would your family?
“The next generation seemed like it would bring on a new age of power and prosperity. Thousands of Adepts successfully Manifested, with a myriad of new abilities. Unfortunately, one of those ‘classes’ as they came to be called, was the Psychic.”
Instructor Callum rapidly cycled through a series of images, each depicting Psychics abusing their powers. Cheating at gambling, erasing minds, forcing people to hand over their wallets, and so on. “Though few in number, the Psychic scourge was insidious. They Manifested a number of alarming abilities. From hearing our most private thoughts, to creating illusions and falsehoods, and of course the most terrifying of all: mind control.”
He let that linger for a moment, enjoying the class’s discomfort. Vincent however, was just lamenting that Lucia’s first Manifestation was likely the least helpful to Operation Daylight. At last Callum continued, “The public reacted in a perfectly understandable way, begging for the NGG to step in and regulate these dangerous manipulators.”
More images went by, of the NGG council passing laws, and Psychic containment facilities being built. Psychics with augmented control-harnesses, chained and beaten. “Sadly, the worst among the Psychics fought these reasonable restrictions, and created the infamous Cult of the Mind. These outlaws met in secret, plotting to conquer the world.”
Vincent swallowed his anger, knowing all this before, but still feeling the pain of it every time. Still, he always refused to look away, and Lucia could never understand that. “By the early 2000s, the Cult had secret branches all over the world, and they had begun to infiltrate every level of the New Global Government. The architect of this evil, and the most powerful of their number: the Prophet himself.”
The images flicked through several photos–blurry, and clearly taken in secret–of a hooded and robed figure in discussions with various serious looking people. “It’s said that the Prophet was actually capable of life-long mind-alterations, something so horrifying I hesitate to even mention it to impressionable young people.”
Vincent leaned forward in his seat, as they were coming up to the part of the lecture he truly cared about. Instructor Callum shuffled around his telling each time, but when he started to sound like he was lost in a ghost story, it meant it was almost time.
“There are no surviving records of the Prophet’s specific words, but his deeds will never be forgotten,” the images began cycling through a number of colorfully dressed heroes, each one famous in their time, part of some hero team, and a Psychic. “We’ll never know which of these supposed heroes chose to turn on the world, and which were manipulated by the Prophet, but their crimes are felt to this day.”
Vincent watched, ignoring the instructor as the images cycled, and finally he saw her. Long brown hair, pale skin, and a red cape over a black uniform. The final member of the original Team Infinity: his mother.
Even the Network had been scrubbed of her completely, and this was the only time Vincent was ever able to truly see her, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. The images cycled on and he leaned back, his mood dark.
“Yes, not even those we trusted the most stood on the side of good, the side of humanity. The Great Hero himself turned away from the world when faced with the betrayal of those he’d considered his friends and allies. In the years that followed, the Psychic war spilled onto our streets, and hero fought hero as no one knew who to trust.”
Images of brutal slaughters cycled by, and a few students turned away–perhaps still sick from the display they’d witnessed earlier. Some of the images were of soldiers against a single hero, others of destroyed cities and dead civilians, and some showed dozens of heroes who had died fighting one another. “But what did they fight for?” the instructor asked.
“The answer, of course, is in the name. The Prophet claimed to have the power to see the future. His ravings were never recorded firsthand, and different sources still lead to arguments about what his true motives were. Some believe–rightly, I think–that it was nothing but a shameless power grab.”
Instructor Callum seemed reluctant to speak further, but he was a reasonably thorough person. “Others believe that the Prophet ‘foresaw’ the return of the invaders. Supposedly he claimed that the Emperor was never defeated by the Great Hero, and instead hides above us still, deep within the Watcher. Waiting for the right moment to enact his revenge.”
He was shaking his head in open disgust, “If the Prophet truly spoke such lies, besmirching the honor of the Great Hero, then he was even more of a monster than the world knows.” At this point the room brightened as the next slides were official NGG propaganda, and showed the government sanctioned heroes in all their carefully crafted glory.
Legacy was there, the sun behind him as he stood over the wreckage of some building, striking his most heroic pose. “Thankfully in the end, goodness and righteousness prevailed. The NGG’s enlisted Psychics were weaponized, and though it took nearly twenty years, they identified every last lair that the Cult of the Mind was hiding in like rats.”
Instructor Callum kept speaking, and more images appeared of people being handcuffed and put in prison transports, but Vincent wasn’t watching anymore. He was lost in memories.
It hadn’t been peaceful, or heroic, it had been a slaughter. There was fire everywhere…and blood. He remembered the lifeless staring eyes of people who had lovingly raised him since birth. He remembered his mother pulling him through a long hallway as the ceiling collapsed above them. He remembered being pinned under wreckage for hours, terrified, his mother whispering in his ear as she died.
Vincent was hyperventilating, and he struggled to get a hold of himself as anxiety threatened to overwhelm him. It was at that moment that an alarm began blaring, and the Instructor halted his lesson in surprise.
ATTENTION, ALL STUDENTS MUST RETURN TO THEIR DORMS IMMEDIATELY. ACTIVE GUARD PATROLS ARE IN EFFECT, ANY STUDENTS CAUGHT OUTSIDE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES WILL BE RESTRAINED INDEFINITELY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
Vincent’s heart was already racing, and the announcement did nothing to calm him. “Well students, you heard the announcement. Quickly now, off you go. No time to linger!” Callum sounded oddly calm, but the students were near-panic immediately. They all raced to the exit, and most ran for the dorms as fast as they could.
Vincent tried to be more rational, knowing his own room wasn’t far, and still desperately trying to calm his mind and body. Looking around outside, he didn’t see the cause of whatever had triggered the alarm, but only moments later he heard gunshots ring out. Vincent started to run.
He didn’t stop running until he was safely inside his dorm, throwing the door closed behind him. The sounds were too similar to that horrible day, and he was still lost in those memories. He didn’t bother turning on his lights, just stumbled into the corner next to his bed, and pulled a blanket over top of him.
Time passed like that, but Vincent wasn’t really aware. There was only his breathing, and visions of the day that the NGG had come for them. At one point he vaguely recognized the sounds of another announcement, but he didn’t understand the words.
He didn’t come back to himself until he felt Lucia’s hand resting gently on his arm. When he looked up at her it appeared she’d been sitting with him for some time, and he shakily disentangled himself from the blanket, checking his KD for the time. It was after sunset.
“It was Annissa,” Lucia said softly. “The girl that Ironfist used to toy with Gary,” Vincent recalled the sounds of a huge gauntlet striking her face. “She tried to escape. Ran right through the front gate, in broad daylight.” Her voice grew softer, “She’s dead. They shot her.”
Vincent didn’t speak, his mind still foggy and his body shaking slightly. Lucia watched him for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself. It isn’t worth it. She isn’t worth it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vincent said, but his voice was weak.
“I know better than you do. You were only five when it happened; you barely knew our mother. I’m two years older, I remember who she really was,” her anger was starting to come through. “She believed it all. Every last piece of nonsense that the Cult was peddling. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done for their stupid dream.”
Vincent stood up as fast as his body would allow, glaring at his sister. “I know what she believed, and you hating her doesn’t make it any less true.” He could feel his anxiety rising again, but this time it was tempered by rage. Lucia stood up to face him, pity on her face.
“When are you going to grow up, Vincenzo? When are you going to start thinking for yourself? Are you even capable of it?”
“I make my own decisions Lucia, if you weren’t so busy giving up and drowning in your own self-pity, you’d see that. Or did you forget that I chose to save you!?”
There was a long, terrible pause, as she stared into his eyes. Mist, mist, mist, he thought furiously.
“Did you really choose? Are you absolutely sure?” she asked in a quiet voice, and Vincent pushed past her, heading for the door. He had only taken a few steps when his KD beeped, and he looked down at it in confusion. He was certain it was muted.
He opened up the message he’d received, confusion turning to shock as he read it.
I know what you’re doing. I know you’re planning to escape.