In the decades following The Great Contamination, it became clear to the powers-that-be that the Talented were a new breed of children and posed numerous potential threats. The question of how to deal with these children was the most hotly debated topic at global summits. Fear of the unknown drove many nations to demand that the children be locked up “for their own safety”. But let’s be honest, imprisoning the Talented was actually for the peace of mind of scared politicians. Some extremist nations even argued in favor of the eradication of any and all persons exhibiting paranormal abilities. In the end, no satisfactory global solution was reached. Instead, each country was left to handle the situation in a manner that best served their individual interests.
Margaret Anne McDonough was the seventy-fifth president of the United States of America and also grandmother to towheaded five-year-old Daniel McDonough—an exceptionally strong Mind Manipulator. President McDonough believed children born with abilities needed to be nurtured and taught to use their talents. She converted a military facility located in western Maryland, previously a presidential bunker, into a training facility that soon became known as The McDonough School for the Talented.
The McDonough School for the Talented didn’t only play host to America’s Talented children. Since many other countries weren’t as forward thinking when it came to the Talented, the school welcomed all gifted kids from around the world. I, like many of the children there, wasn’t born in the U.S. I was born in Capri, Italy. Even though my parents, Francis and Katerina Lyons, traveled a lot because of my father’s position with the government, I called Capri home until their deaths seven years ago.
At first, President McDonough merely offered families the option to send their Talented children to the school. Over time however, it became apparent that some parents were reluctant to have their children attend a special school. They didn’t want the stigma that many associated with having a Talented child. Instead, these parents chose to homeschool their children if they were unable to hide the abnormalities. If they could hide the abilities, the parents sent their kids to normal schools and pretended there was nothing “special” about them.
This ignited a new debate. Parents of “normal” children argued that it was unacceptable because their offspring were at a disadvantage when compared to Talented children. These parents claimed that the Talented kids had an unfair edge in every aspect of life, including sports and academics. They argued that they shouldn’t be allowed to attend schools and play sports with the “normal” kids. In their minds, it simply wasn’t fair to those born unaffected by the nuclear contamination.
Parents of non-talented children weren’t the only people calling for segregation in schools. Congress passed the Mandatory Talent Testing Act five years after McDonough’s school opened. This law required that, at the age of five, every child be tested for special abilities. Every child testing positive was sent to the school. As the first few classes of children turned eighteen and graduated, it became clear that all of the training and talent development was going to waste, and TOXIC was born.
TOXIC is an agency within the government that utilizes each child’s unique ability in the most advantageous way. Divisions within TOXIC, or The Agency, were created around the most prevalent talents. The divisions include:
The Hunters Division: aptly named as their main duty is to hunt both people and information. Morphing, light manipulation, and telekinesis are the most common gifts among Hunters. If another division perceives a threat, a hunting team is dispatched to neutralize it. When another division stumbles across valuable information, a hunting team goes to retrieve it. “Hunter” is the modern term for an ancient profession: spying.
The Crypto Division: created for higher reasoning Talents—also known as the Brains. The Brains spend all their time in front of computer screens, sifting through streams of encrypted communications, quickly decrypting them, and analyzing any hidden messages. They monitor every text, voice and holographic communication throughout the United States, and many abroad. Essentially, Brains are the eyes and ears of The Agency. They are the first line of defense against all threats, both foreign and domestic.
The Tracking Division: staffed by Viewers—Talented able to remotely observe events taking place anywhere in the world. The more powerful Viewers are better able to control the talent; they can focus their energy when given a picture or piece of clothing, locate the individual, and give an accurate description of the surroundings. Unfortunately, strong Viewers are rare these days. The one or two Talented that test positive for viewing every year are usually too weak to be truly effective. At best, they are able to track an individual they are physically close to or related to by blood.
The Planning Division: home to Visionaries, or Talented that see the future. The difficulty with Visionaries is that most cannot control the timing of their visions. The average Visionary has a vision only every few weeks and it occurs at random. Most are unable to control the target of the vision, as well. The strongest, or Elite Level Visionaries, are able to concentrate on one person and see flashes of their future on command. The insights of Visionaries often prevent attacks on our country.
The Interrogation Division: formed for Talents with varying degrees of telepathy and mind manipulation capabilities. Telepaths and Mind Manipulators use their abilities to question any individual thought to be a threat to the country’s safety. Telepaths can easily tell if a person is lying and Manipulators can compel him to tell the truth. The Agency even lends out weaker Telepaths and Manipulators to local governments to interrogate criminal suspects. This has led to swift justice and an expedited legal system. Many years ago the Supreme Court ruled that no trial is needed in cases where the suspect is interrogated by a documented Telepath or Mind Manipulator.
There are also divisions within The Agency that are not gift-specific. The Research & Development and the Medical sectors are staffed by the Talented exhibiting a high academic aptitude in one of the sciences: biology, chemistry, or physics. Those demonstrating extraordinary physical strengths, who were not accepted into the Hunters, join the Military Division or guard TOXIC’s various facilities; weapons’ plants, prisons, and the McDonough School. Some Talented even stay on at the McDonough School and help the newbies develop their own abilities.
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Finally, there are the low-level Talented, some of whom end up in one of The Agency’s manufacturing plants, assembling anything from weapons to office chairs. The extremely unfortunate low-level Talented become secretaries, cooks, or cleaning staff.
I came to live at and attend McDonough School after the death of my family. My decision to pledge the Hunters had brought me to my current home, Hunters Village at Elite Headquarters, located approximately one hundred miles west of the nation’s capital in scenic Brentwood Springs, West Virginia. If all went according to plan, I would officially graduate in one year, become a Hunter, and find the man responsible for the deaths of my parents. But for now, I would settle for learning to live with my new teammates—without killing Erik or dying of embarrassment on account of his constant teasing.
***
I wasn’t hungry, but I accepted Henri’s invitation to have lunch before our afternoon practice. Henri was twenty-two and already a full-fledged Hunter after following the usual TOXIC protocol. He had started at the McDonough School, leaving his home in Somerset, Pennsylvania, when he was just five. At seventeen, he’d pledged the Hunters and come to live at Elite Headquarters. At eighteen, after successfully completing his pledge year, he’d officially graduated and become a member of TOXIC’s most coveted division.
Henri and I chatted comfortably through lunch. In the two weeks since my arrival, we’d rarely spent any time alone, just the two of us. Normally during meals, he lectured me about the nuances of life in the Hunters. But today he told me a bit about his family back home in Pennsylvania. His parents weren’t Talented and had been shocked, yet pleased, to learn he was a Polymorph. His much younger sister, Melony, was twelve and also a Talent—a Light Manipulator. He visited her at McDonough School as often as he could get away, since neither sibling went home very often.
Most people didn’t know about my past, so I let Henri do most of the talking. At school I had kept a low profile—never truly displaying my full powers. Telepathy was not uncommon but advanced mind manipulation, as I was capable of, was extremely rare. At Elite Headquarters they knew exactly what I was capable of but if it unnerved them, they didn’t let it show. Henri had even said he’d requested me specifically because he’d heard rumors of my abilities.
After lunch, we met up with Erik at our designated practice space, area thirteen. Today, like every day since I’d been assigned to Henri’s team, we worked on three-way mental communication. This skill was the entire reason Henri wanted me as part of his team. I was already able to communicate mentally with each of them individually, but he hoped I would be able to figure out a way for all three of us to hear each other at the same time.
Ordinarily, I would’ve said three-way communication was not possible, but I wasn’t the only one in our group with an unusual talent for a Hunter. Erik was what TOXIC called a Mimic, meaning he could mimic the abilities of any talent that he was near. When the three of us were together, Erik was able to mimic my mental abilities and Henri’s morphing talents at the same time. This allowed me to communicate mentally with both Erik and Henri, and for Erik to communicate with both Henri and me, mentally. The final step, the one we’d worked on every day for the past two weeks, was to establish the three-way link. So far, we weren’t having a lot of luck. Henri was becoming frustrated with my lack of progress and Erik’s constant threesome jokes, but he was doing a good job of hiding it. He was too polite to complain and too professional to let his disappointment show. Still, I could feel his patience waning with each passing day.
In addition to the mental training, we also trained physically. I typically spent my afternoons at the firing range, practicing with firearms, a bow and arrow, or learning knife-throwing. Once a week, Erik taught me how to fence. I wasn’t very good, a fact made more apparent by Erik’s phenomenal skill, but Henri insisted it was vital that I train with every weapon available.
After our training that afternoon, we went back to the cabin to clean up.
“Are you gracing us with your presence at dinner?” Erik asked as I sat on my bed, drying my hair after my shower.
“Not tonight,” I replied offhandedly.
“We’re way better company than the Director’s son.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I murmured. I was used to the way others acted towards Donavon. He wasn’t only the son of the Director of the Agency, but also shared a last name with the founder of the school. Margaret Ann McDonough was his great-great-great-great-great grandmother, give-or-take a couple of “greats”.
“Oh Talia, come on now, I don’t need to tell myself that. There are plenty of girls who remind me of that all the time.” Erik winked at me.
“Erik,” Henri warned, giving him a pointed look.
“What? You know it’s true. The only reason people want to hang out with him is because he’s the Director’s son, and they think that’ll somehow get them favors. That’s probably the only reason he even got into the Hunters. He’s not even that good.”
“Erik. Stop,” Henri said through clenched teeth.
“Is that how you feel about me, too? Is that why you wanted me as part of your team?” I spun around to him. I was seething. I might be used to the way people talked about Donavon, but that didn’t mean I liked it. It wasn’t his fault he was born Mac’s son.
“What?” To his credit, Erik seemed slightly taken aback, like he genuinely didn’t know what I was talking about. My anger lessened slightly.
“Mac raised me. I lived with his family until I came here,” I said evenly. “Do you think I get special treatment? Do you think I only got here because of Mac? That he called in special favors to get me into the Hunters?”
“Oh, shit. Talia, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he apologized, but Henri was the only one left in the cabin to hear his words.
I was acutely sensitive, maybe overly so, when it came to my relationship with Mac, or Director Danbury McDonough as he was known to most. The crappiest part of being able to read minds was knowing what people really thought of you. Erik’s view wasn’t the minority opinion. A lot of other students thought I’d only been accepted to pledge the Hunters because Mac had pulled strings to get me in. They complained to each other—if I were anyone else, I would be working in some remedial Agency position, like food services or janitorial duty. It had been this way since I first went to McDonough School: the whispering when I walked past, the sneers when I answered a question correctly in class, the outright condemnation by all the girls my age when I started dating Donavon. It usually didn’t bother me much. Mostly the accusations just made me work harder. I didn’t bother to correct them.
The truth was that I worked extremely hard to get an invitation to pledge the Hunters. Hunters were typically Morphers. Their natural talents gave them extremely heightened senses, in addition to the ability to morph into a variety of animals, and in some rare cases, other humans. I would never be able to morph, since it’s not a learned behavior. However, fine-tuning my senses was something I was capable of mastering. So I did. Mac had begun working with me when I first came to McDonough School. I also took extra combat and weapons lessons every day instead of making friends. I felt confident that my abilities rivaled those of the best of my classmates when I went to try out for the Hunters. Captain Alvarez, the leader of the Hunters, had thought so, too; I’d taken the liberty of peeking into his head to make sure.