Marshals: Iris free porn video

(This story is the follow-up to the three part 'Majorette' series.) Iris By Lynn LeFey Chapter 1: Out of Sorts Brandon Shay sat in front of a computer, staring at articles for the school newspaper. His eyes were tired, and he simply couldn't bring his mind to focus on the task at hand. He ran his fingers through his black hair, laced them behind his head, and leaned back in the creaky office chair. He stared at the acoustic tiles of the drop ceiling. He had the unfortunate task of editing an article on a double homicide of two students. In the last four months, three students had died at Marshal High, the latest being Mike Mazzy's suicide. At least there was the positive effect of that tragedy, in that the school now had a GSA... a Gay/Straight Alliance, support group for the Gay/Bi/Lesbian/Trans youth of the school. The irony was not wasted on him that of the two students who'd been murdered at the beginning of the year, Andrea Thomas was an open lesbian, and the other, Michael Dickinson, was widely considered gay by classmates. Investigation so far hadn't revealed any link between the homicide and their sexual orientation, though. He had attended the first two meetings of the GSA. It did nothing for him, and he found that his only interest in going was possibly finding some cute guy to hit on. That made him feel a little sick, so he simply decided not to attend. He was stuck doing circles in his head, remembering one night with a very special young man. Sure, it had just been pizza and making out, but it had been magic. Brandon hated to admit that he'd waited for months to work up the courage to ask Glen out, only to have him stolen away by... that girl. Glen hadn't turned hetero or anything. He'd done something much worse. He'd managed to go through gender reassignment. God, how that ate at Brandon; to finally work up the courage to ask out this cute guy, then have him transition two days later! Since then, Brandon knew he'd been in a pretty heavy funk, and nothing had pulled him out of it. He finally got up and left the journalism room, headed to his locker, and got his pool stuff. He walked down to the first floor, across the courtyard to the gym, and into the locker room. There were other guys in the room, getting ready to use the pool, or coming in from football practice. Keith Patterson walked out of the showers, giving Brandon the evil eye. "Keep your eyes to yourself, Brandon," he said in sour tones. "Oh, fuck off Keith. I'm looking for a REAL man," he threw back saucily. "Fucking queer!" the football player returned. "What the hell is with you? You hung out with Mike for years! It's shit like what you're saying that made him kill himself. Do you feel good about that?" Brandon was getting pissed. "Better dead than a cock sucking faggot!" Keith took a few steps forward menacingly. "Hey, shit-head, do you remember what happened to your last target? Do you really want me to call Gloria down here to wipe up the floor with you?" Brandon wanted to be mad, but the cowed look on Keith's face was too amusing. Gloria. Damn... Brandon slid into his Speedos, strapped his goggles around his head and walked off to the pool. There was no swim practice this evening, but sometimes Brandon just swam to work off frustration. Being in the water, feeling it move across his skin, was one of the few joys in his life. He moved to a starting block, and dunked his goggles. He drained the water and placed them over his eyes, pushing until they were stuck in place with suction. His graceful fluid form dove into the water with a minimum of splash. He cut through the water smoothly, fluttering his legs behind him. When he finally broke the surface, he started into a breaststroke, taking care to keep good form. He swam sixteen laps before climbing out of the water. He swept his hair back and pulled off his goggles, heading back to the locker room. He showered, never looking at the other folks in the open shower with him. He just didn't feel like scoping anyone out. Then he dressed and headed over to the gym. The cheerleaders were just finishing. He watched Lisa Cross as she packed her pom-poms into a duffel bag. "Hey Lisa!" he yelled, waiving. "Hey cutie! What's shakin'?" she asked, her normal exuberant self. "Nadda. Just did some laps. My head's all messed up, and I can't stop thinking about... well, about all sorts of stuff. The three kids that died... Glen and Gloria," he admitted. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Brandon, but Glen is not coming back. You know Gloria's much happier now, even with the complications of FSHA." She looked him in the eye, both sympathetic and resolute. "Yeah... how's that going for you guys? I haven't gotten much time to talk to any of you 'Fab Five' since the Future Super-Heroes of America group got it's sponsorship. I did get to proof the group picture for the yearbook though," he said with a twinge of sadness to his voice. "Feeling left out?" she asked sympathetically. "No," he insisted. Lisa just looked at him, knowing better. "Okay. I thought it was kind of cool being in on the 'Burner' action... not that I would have wanted all the shooting. But since then, you're all so busy, and so secretive." Brandon walked out of the gym with Lisa, into the cold air of early winter. Dead leaves rustled, and the sun was already setting. Brandon felt the biting cold, and zipped up his jacket all the way. Lisa wrapped her arms around herself, and tried not to freeze in her short skirt. "Where's Laura?" he finally asked, as he led her to his waiting Corolla. "Didn't you hear? She dropped off the squad," Lisa said. "Why?" Brandon felt even more out of the know. "She's..." Lisa stalled. "Crap. I'm not supposed to talk about it, but she's been having nightmares since she activated." Lisa looked concerned as she spoke. Brandon hit the power unlock button, and the two got in the car simultaneously. "Nightmares about what?" Brandon felt his journalist instincts were kicking in. "She's... She's been dreaming about, well, Armageddon, or the apocalypse, some horrible cataclysm. She thinks she's seeing the future. Since she manifested as a precognitive... she's just been, well, very depressed," she admitted. "That sucks. Man... There are days when I guess having a beneficial mutation would really bite. At least one like that. How's your stuff coming?" He continued his unintentional grilling. "Pretty good. I mean, I'm a recessive, so I'm never going to be a powerhouse, but with Ms. Lynn's permission, Talon has us working once a month with members of Golden Shield as mentors. Stellar has been teaching me a lot, and giving me lots of new ideas about creative ways to use my powers." She brightened at the turn of the conversation. "Do you have a code name, or whatever?" he asked, somewhat excited. "Yeah, at least one for the time being. For now, I'm going by 'Spectra'. It's not great, but it's really hard to find a name that isn't already taken," she said. "I even have a costume. It isn't great either. It's a black bodysuit, with white gloves and boots, and this thin white stripe running up the right leg, splitting to a prism across the belly, and rejoining to a white stripe as it goes over the left shoulder. Again, not great, but it'll do for now." "Oh, man. Don't tell me they got Gerald into spandex!" Brandon laughed. "Nope. He wears black pants, a gray pullover shirt, a black trenchcoat, and combat boots. He did take your name 'Fade' though," Lisa informed him. Brandon looked a little cheerful about this. "Well, at least I got to contribute something," he stated. "Bray... is there anything I can do to cheer you up? I mean, we haven't been out dancing in a while. Would that help bring you out of your funk?" she offered. "Wow... That would be great. Do you have much homework this evening?" he asked with a glimmer of hope. "Maybe half an hour's worth. Let me check with the 'rents, to see if it's cool to go out tonight. How 'bout you?" she returned. "I'm good. Mom's out of town for the week, and all my work is clear. I've taken a light load this year to make time for the newspaper." he explained. "Coolie. Hang on then." She flipped open a cell phone to call home. Chapter 2: Student and Teacher Alicia Lynn sorted through CDs. Her Aikido class was over, and only her top student, Gloria Camdon remained behind. Alicia was an unassuming woman of average frame. Her dark brown hair and brown eyes begged to be ignored in a crowd. She seemed a nearly indeterminable age, perhaps late twenties. The only thing anyone ever found striking about her was her presence. For those who knew her, there was a palpable aura about her. She was the eye of the storm. She was so very mellow and in control, it simply radiated from her. This was something that had attracted Gloria to her. She reflected on recent events. It had only been two months since Gloria manifested as a paranormal. More accurately, it had only been two months since Gloria had... well... been Gloria. She had to admit, while there was now a small group of teens she worked with, Gloria was her favorite. It was simply a matter of what they shared in common, and perhaps what she might provide for Gloria as a mentor. "Gloria, I was wondering about something. Since your manifestation, you have mastered every kata I've shown you on the first walk through. How do you do such a thing?" Alicia looked at the teen intently. "Ms. Lynn... I don't understand the question. I've only followed what you've shown me," Gloria said, somewhat confused. "I know. These are not the basic stances that I've shown you. The Tai Chi and Aikido kata sometimes run many minutes in length. You simply see it once and step through it. Most people have to train their bodies to move correctly in such lengthy, complex movements... For instance... where did you learn gymnastics? The first night you manifested, you were out on the field doing full tumble routines," Ms. Lynn questioned. "What? I just do." Gloria broke out laughing. "I guess I never thought about it. When I'm in uniform, I just act on reflex. It never occurred to me that I probably never actually learned how to do the maneuvers." She still giggled. "Lord...," Alicia thought, "How nice it would be to feel that alive again." She allowed a soft smile at Gloria's own self- amusement. "Well... I have something of a theory on that... and I thought I'd skip the standard work tonight, and replace it with something totally different," Ms. Lynn said. She walked into the locker room with Gloria. Alicia showered, and was drying off when Gloria walked out of her shower stall. She rounded a row of lockers where she froze as if in shock when she saw Ms. Lynn, suddenly diverting her eyes and turning bright red. Alicia had never seen such a strong reaction from any youth at the site of an adult nude. She stopped for a moment pondering the cause. "Oh, God... Ms. Lynn... I'm sorry..." Gloria stammered. "Gloria, dear. You're a girl now. You don't have to feel embarrassed being in here." Alicia thought she understood the source of Gloria's feelings. Until a few months ago, Gloria had been named Glen. Gloria's upraising likely never exposed her to nude female adults. Ms. Lynn thought how uncomfortable that must have been for Glen... always sharing locker rooms and shower bays with what was basically the opposite gender... and now to have to readjust to life in her new role as a young female... Gloria finally got control of herself, now feeling ashamed of her initial embarrassment. "Ms. Lynn, I'm really sorry, I'm all weird now. God... everything's just changed so quickly. I mean, you should see the looks I get when I order something at a fast food joint. I still eat like a guy. Not just like a guy, but that ravenous growth-spurt kind of eating. My enhanced metabolism just burns major amounts of energy. So I'll be wolfing down like six burgers, and then realize how wrong it looks. I weigh 125. I'm a size 8. And my dad and I were throwing a bunch of stuff out from my old room, and at one point he just got up and left. He walked outside and when I went after him... my mom told me to just give him some breathing room." Gloria had just burst some emotional valve, Alicia realized. "You've had a radical change in your life. Any such disturbance is going to take time to smooth. Meanwhile... Don't feel foolish. But I would ask that you get dressed quickly. I have a lot of stuff I'd like to cover this evening." They took their separate cars to Ms. Lynn's place, a small ranch style home in the suburbs. Alicia led Gloria through the modest home. The d?cor seemed a mixture of oriental styles, particularly with strong Japanese influence, very simple and minimalist. Toward the rear of the house was the second bedroom, which was something of a tiny entertainment room, with a TV and Game system. Alicia had a DVD in hand, and stuck it in the extended tray. The menu opened up, and Gloria realized the DVD had been home made. It seemed to have lists of names and titles. Alicia just sat down on the futon, and hit play. Gloria joined her there. The two ladies watched snippets from nearly a dozen martial arts movies. Alicia had particularly selected movies where the performers intertwined gymnastic abilities with strong, functional martial arts. During the clips, Alicia would occasionally explain to Gloria what to look for, and what mistakes to avoid. It would take Alicia a while to make another DVD from footage of paranormal martial artists in combat. Such footage was rare, and brief at best. The average paranormal conflict was only about thirty seconds long. The odds of catching it on tape were slim. She finally put on one of Jackie Chan's films, and just let it play. She leaned back in the futon and squished against a big pillow. Her legs were stretched out on a coffee table. As the film rolled, Gloria eventually lay down on the futon, with her head in Alicia's lap. There was some feeling in her that angered old wounds. She petted Gloria's hair, trying to hold back pain. "What's wrong?" Gloria asked. Alicia knew that Gloria could hear fluctuations in her heartbeat and breathing. The young lady had incredible sensory acuity. "Just a painful old memory. I had a... younger sister. She died in a car accident when I was maybe nineteen. She used to lie against my leg like this. But please... don't move... not yet," Alicia stated, in a very controlled voice. Gloria stayed where she was, content to play some role in Alicia's life, beyond student. So many things had happened in the recent past, and Alicia Lynn had been an anchor for her in that time. She felt honored that Alicia had shown the first glimpse of what laid beneath the placid surface. Chapter 3: Changing Direction Gerald Johnson walked from his job at Fast- Burger to his meager efficiency apartment. As he circled the building toward the back, where his door awaited, he caught a glimpse of a man sitting on his step. He reached into his trench coat, and grasped a min-mag flashlight. He was about to yell at the man to tell him to get off his steps, when he realized the visitor was no vagrant or random wanderer. He wore an unassuming suit, and had a short haircut. Gerald took him for some government type. "Gerald Johnson?" the man asked as Gerald approached. "Yeah, that's me. Who are you supposed to be?" Gerald asked calmly. "I'm Agent Miller of the Central Intelligence Agency. I'm here to talk to you about your future." he stated flatly, showing an ID. "Let me get this right... you want ME to work for the CIA? I find that somewhat amusing. I mean, you ARE aware of my criminal record, right? I'm also assuming there are a handful of psychological defects clearly visible in all the psych tests I've been asked to take," Gerald said in a bitter tone. "We at the agency are very much aware of your past, Mr. Johnson. You might be surprised to hear that you are quite balanced and healthy mentally, especially considering your home environment. You have a unique gift, Mr. Johnson. We would like you to put it to work for the good of your country. I assume it would pay more than what you make at Fast-Burger," the agent returned. "How does this work, with my involvement in FSHA?" Gerald asked, pulling a note pad and pencil from his coat pocket. He gestured for the ID the agent had flashed, and began writing down the information from it. The agent gave a look of surprise and pleasure. "Talon is quite aware of our wishing to recruit you. You can't really join legally until you are an adult, but we can get the ball rolling now. Please, don't take my word for it. Here's my card. Contact me after your next FSHA meeting, when you've had time to verify all this." Agent Miller stood up, stretching a little. He nodded and walked off to the plain unassuming sedan parked on the street. Gerald stood for a moment, looking at the card, and watching the man drive off. He fished in his pockets for his keys, opened the door to his tiny home, and entered. Chapter 4: Enthralled "Well, you've just got to see him for yourself. He is the hottest piece of man-flesh walking." Lisa almost drooled. She and Brandon drove to 'The BIG City', Columbus. Zanesville didn't have any good dance clubs, especially ones where minors could get in. Columbus however, had some decent clubs where on non-peak nights, they had all age's shows. Tuesdays. Ya gotta love 'em! Brandon wore tight leather pants, with a long sleeve fishnet shirt. He was tricked out in Goth makeup, and had spiked his hair slightly. Best of all, he had pale blue contacts that reacted under black light, making his eyes glow. Lisa thought he looked cute, even with black lipstick. God, sometimes she wished he was straight. He had the tightest body! She almost laughed at herself. She wore knee-high black vinyl boots with 4" platform heels and chrome bindings. With it she had a black vinyl miniskirt. Her top was an open midriff magenta number. It was an off the shoulder style with long sleeves. She also wore a magenta wig. She accentuated the outfit with chain suspenders, belt and bracelet. The two found a reasonably good parking spot, and trotted quickly from the warm car to the club. Once inside, they would be warm enough, but club-wear was not made to insulate against the winter. Lisa led the way into the dark dance club. The band hadn't yet taken stage, and the dance music was still going. Strobes flashed, and lights spun, as the music thumped. It was a dance mix, with a techno flair. The place had a good crowd, but was far from packed. The two danced through four numbers before getting sodas. Brandon eventually noticed a man at the end of the bar, looking very out of place in a business suit. He held what looked like a palmtop computer, staring at it intently. Probably some idiot yuppy out for a drink, he thought. Brandon scanned the room for any hot guys throwing off the vibe. There were two androgynous Gothy boys that he approached. Unfortunately, on closer evaluation, they were both with girls, and not in the way that he was with Lisa. He caught site of his friend making her way through the crowd. It seemed she had several guys hitting on her. He smiled, with mixed feelings about her success. He was happy for her success, but it pissed him off that his odds of finding someone were slim unless he was in a gay bar, or some other gay-friendly establishment. Maybe he could talk her into going to a coffee shop he knew after the show. There was this great place where all the cute gay boys hung out. Mmmm. He was in the middle of explaining his contacts to some girl when he noticed the crowd had gone from being comfortable to being a crush. People were packing in now. Moreover, it didn't take him long to see that most of the crowd that congregated were girls. Just what he needed... more competition! The lights on the dance floor stopped their twirling and the music faded. On the front stage the ancient looking, tattered curtains parted revealing mist. A techno beat came from a synthesizer, followed by a screaming guitar, and suddenly, the lights spotted the stage, revealing what Brandon had to agree was the hottest piece of man-flesh walking. The thin yet muscular form of the lead singer was very clear. He wore only a skintight black tank top, and pants that appeared to be literally painted-on latex. The rhythmic bouncing of the patrons stopped. They stood enthralled by the performance. He had never felt the kind of want he felt for the singer. He could barely concentrate on the music over the strong images in his mind of ravaging that perfect body. He wanted to lick every square inch of him. He wanted to do a lot more than that! Had Brandon not been so caught up in his own fantasies, he might have noticed the man from the bar move in behind Lisa, give a hand gesture to the stage, then move away. Brandon wasn't sure how long the music went on, but when the curtains finally closed, he had the distinct feeling like some part of him was dying. Maybe he'd gone too long without a boyfriend, or maybe it was just the growing urges of puberty, but he wanted that man like nothing he'd ever wanted in his life. It almost made him salivate. Brandon blinked, trying hard to refocus, and realized he was incredibly thirsty. He looked around for Lisa, finally seeing a glimpse of her as she stepped through a side door out of the main dance room. He slid through the crowd, squirming through the tight mob of bodies. Several girls in the crowd made pleasant squeals as he brushed past them. If he were straight, he'd be getting some for sure, he thought to himself. He finally broke out of the crowd, near the door. It was marked with a single word, 'Private'. The hell with that! Lisa wasn't going to get a face to face meeting with that Sex God without him! He pushed against the door and quietly stepped through into the short, dark hallway. At the far end, he could see dim light leaking from under a door. Faint voices could be heard. "She'll have to do for now," one voice said. "She doesn't even break 2.7," a sensual male voice replied. "You know this should fix that problem," the first argued. "I'd rather not even disturb him, just for this," the sexy voice again replied. Brandon knew they were talking about Lisa, but didn't understand what they were going on about. He had a sick feeling that they were talking about using her as some kind of sex slave. He reached into his boot and retrieved a butterfly knife. Any smart gay boy knows better than to go out clubbing unarmed. He kicked through the door dramatically, flicking open the knife as menacingly as he could. Inside was the man that he'd seen at the bar, the lead singer guy, and Lisa. On seeing the lead singer, Brandon was again nearly paralyzed with the feeling of want. He stood for a moment, transfixed, then snapped out of it. "Let her go!" he demanded of the man holding Lisa. The man simply held up both hands, showing how he was in no way restraining her. Brandon turned his angry gaze on the young singer. He felt his heart flutter. "Are you a friend of the young lady? We were just talking with her. She seemed to enjoy the show. I like talking to my fans. She's seen the band before. How 'bout you?" The purity of the blue in his eyes made Brandon tingle. He blushed in response to this man speaking to him. It was like being recognized by the Gods. "Umm... Yeah. You were SO hot out there," Brandon found himself admitting. The sexy man held an odd look for a split second, then smiled deviously and stepped toward Brandon. He gently removed the knife from his hand and set it on a nearby table. He pressed lightly against Brandon, inches from his face. "People call me Eros. What should I call you?" he asked, locking gazes with Brandon. "I'm Brandon. Brandon Shay," he said, in a breathy whisper. Eros threw a glance at the other man in the room, who began typing quickly on the palmtop computer. "And this is your friend, Lisa?" he asked in a soft, comforting tone. "Oh-huh." Brandon found himself feeling all coy, and bit his lower lip. "Please, won't the two of you have a seat?" Eros offered. Lisa and Brandon both sat on the comfortable, if somewhat ratty sofa. "Eros. This girl is FSHA in Z-town. And the boy... well, here, take a look," the suit said, handing over the computer. "Well, we can't use her then. It'd get back to Golden Shield. What about HIM?" Eros motioned over his shoulder to Brandon. "With the correct modifications...," the suited man said, looking squarely at Eros. "Okay then, let's see what we can arrange. Brandon, do you want me?" Eros asked, point- blank. "Yes, more than anything." Brandon found himself again admitting honestly. "Well... I have to be honest with you. I'm not a boy-on-boy kind of guy, but we could, you know, give you a little change that would make you much more appealing to me. And for that, all we want is one little favor from you. What do you say?" Eros smirked snidely over his shoulder. "Anything. Anything you want." Brandon spoke the words, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear warning bells going off. What 'little change'? Please God, not a Gloria Camdon little change. In his head, he could feel a barrier crumble. No... NO! He wasn't sure how, but he'd been messed with. This guy was using some old Jedi mind-trick on him. More accurately, he was being led around by his dick. Still, try as he might, while he could think such things, he found it difficult to articulate them, and especially difficult to displease the master before him. "Great. Lisa, it's time for you to go. Here hon, have my latest CD. You go dance and have fun. Brandon and I have some talking to do." He patted Lisa's shoulder and kissed her cheek on her way out." "I... I can't let you do this to me...," Brandon managed. Eros looked a bit surprised. "Wow. You broke my thrall. That's rare. It doesn't really matter. We need an... assistant, and time is running out. You are going to do something for us. If not, we will get your cute friend in there to do it for us." "And what if we don't?" Brandon managed a spark of defiance. "Oh, she WILL do it, trust me. I have her completely. Tell me, what was it that shocked you out of the hold? It had to be something pretty major," Eros chatted lightly. "I will never submit to being turned into a female. Let's say I have fresh wounds concerning that." Brandon locked a cold gaze at his captor. "Leon... how much longer for the rewrite codes?" Eros looked at the man in the suit. Leon in turn looked at the palm-top. "Two minutes. We need a base for a T-splice. That's the big guy's orders," he said flatly. "Be right back..." Eros smiled and walked out of the room. Leon casually slid a small automatic pistol from his jacket, and began to attach what looked like a silencer to the muzzle. "How 'bout you just stay cool while he does his business?" Leon looked Brandon in the eyes. Eros returned, handing a few strands of hair to Leon, who walked to a laptop computer on a desk in the corner. He stuffed the hairs into a small peripheral device, and pressed a button. "Make sure you correct Dom before you create the T-splice with that. No sense in getting a lackey that doesn't even rate 3," Eros reminded his associate. "Way ahead of you, kid. Well... that's it. Here we go." Leon watched as the small piece of hardware attached to the laptop dripped saline solution into a vacuum tube. He shook the contents, and loaded the vial into an airgun. With a pistol in one hand, and the injector in the other, he moved to Brandon. A moment of pain, like a bee sting, was all Brandon felt. "There you go. Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Eros spoke like a nurse at a children's hospital. "Now, we expect you back here tomorrow night at 7PM sharp. We have work to do, dear boy." Eros touched Brandon's cheek lightly, and gestured to the exit. Once Brandon left, Eros typed on the keyboard, and opened a telecom window. "Did you inject the virus as ordered?" The voice came from the small speakers of the laptop. Even with the small source, the voice was deep and menacing. "Sure did. We also hit the other subject with the airborne change you requested. We won't know if those changes took hold unless we tail her." Eros rattled off quickly. "Don't worry. I'm sure it will work." The voice returned. ... "God, I love that band. What did you think? Wasn't that guy the sexiest man alive?" Lisa raved as she drove. "Yes, I must admit he was one sexy mofo. Could you turn on the headlights, please?" Brandon held the passenger armrest in distress. "Oh, thanks. With my eyes the way they are, I sometimes forget that other folks can't see. Sorry," she said sweetly. "Well, it's also the law, you know," Brandon returned nervously. "I was kind of hoping that the trip to the club would make you feel better. I mean, we even got to meet the lead singer, and you still seem all stressed out. What's wrong?" she grilled. "Nothing. Don't worry about it," he said, feeling miserable. She seemed to remember meeting Eros, but didn't remember anything negative. That disturbed Brandon deeply. Brandon spent the whole car ride home waiting for the crushing pain in his testes that Gloria had described to him. He fought back tears, thinking of turning into a girl. He hated the thought of it. It scared the living hell out of him. He had no idea what would happen when the rewrite virus was complete. Chapter 5: Moments of Transition By the time Brandon got home, it was past mid- night. The cold air ran a wicked chill through him as he made his way into the house. He had nearly convinced himself that none of the stuff in the club's back room actually happened. Almost, but he knew better. They'd said they couldn't use Lisa, because Golden Shield would find out. He wondered what Eros' 'little favor' would be. He knew when he found out he wasn't going to like it one bit. He stripped for bed, and removed his Goth makeup with cold cream. He realized he was sweating profusely and felt sick and weak. It was beginning. Whatever they'd injected him with was starting its rewrite. He crawled into bed and lay staring into the darkness, waiting for the crushing pain of the rewrite. Even through the stress and fear, he eventually drifted off to sleep. His alarm sounded at 6 AM, and Brandon jumped into his normal morning routine. He was in the shower before he realized what had happened the night before. He checked himself thoroughly, relieved to find no obvious change. He breathed a deep sigh. He actually felt great. As he made toast, he noticed the first odd sensation. His hands had a shaky or numb feeling to them. He rubbed his fingers against his palms and went about eating breakfast. Most of the way through his melted peanut butter on toast sandwich, he felt the odd feeling creeping all over him. He walked into the dark living room, to sit down. His hand brushed the light switch, and the lamp in the living room flicked on. In the moment that its light flooded the room, Brandon felt as though he was suddenly compressed from all directions, and a bright burst of light erupted. He fell flat on his butt, blinking to get the spots from his eyes. He felt very disoriented for a moment. He found standing difficult, and the room was now at a different perspective. He looked down at his fingers. His hands looked different. Even through his now-baggy shirt, he could see bumps... unmistakable breasts. He turned to run to the bathroom, and fell, tangled in the legs of the pants, now too long for him. There on all fours, Brandon burst into tears. It had happened. He slowly regained his footing, moving carefully to the bathroom to get a look at the horror that awaited him. What he saw when he looked in the mirror took a moment to comprehend. He saw Lisa Cross looking at him. She was wearing his cloths and had his haircut, but it was definitely her. The sense that someone was playing a practical joke lasted only a moment. He was now an exact duplicate of her. He thought back. Something about a T-splice. Eros had walked off, coming back with strands of hair. It must have been from Lisa. They had somehow inserted her entire genome into his own. He looked at his left arm, checking for a scar Lisa had from childhood. It wasn't there. He was not identical to her, only a genetic duplicate. He slumped his petite cheerleader body against the wall. He wanted to cry, but he felt numb. His brain wanted to refuse the reality of his situation. He felt trapped. His thoughts whirled, trying to find a way out of this mess. He wanted to be anywhere but here, atop a reclusive mountain, away from the rest of the world. His mind visualized the place, a beautiful peak in the Rockies. There was another burst of light. The world blurred, and when his head finally cleared, he stood in the bitter whipping wind, looking down from a majestic mountain peak. What the hell was going on? Had he really transported here? The winter wind felt real enough. His eyes drank in the light. He could see a lodge some forty miles away, with the perfect clarity that Lisa described. He tried to concentrate, to focus his desire. The world shifted again, and he stood at the steps of the lodge. He could teleport! Brandon thought for a moment. Lisa couldn't teleport. Why could he? Maybe it wasn't teleportation. Maybe it was something else. If her powers were light based, and if she were more powerful, she might be able to move at the speed of light, somehow turning herself into a burst of photons. Well then... He concentrated on his home again. A blink of roads, signs, and houses flashed before him, almost subliminally, before he again reappeared in his living room. He was exhausted. He felt a weird sensation crawl over him, and watched the skin of his arm as it darkened over a second or so to an utter pitch black. He felt an odd hunger, and ran to the bathroom, turning on all the lights. The heat lamp over the shower was particularly 'nourishing'. He sat in the shower, drinking in energy. In his exhaustion, he fell asleep. ... Brandon woke up in the shower, cramped, stiff, and disoriented. He pulled himself out of the stall, and rolled his neck, hoping to work the kink out of it. He glanced in the mirror. Everything looked normal. He was a boy. He was as certain as he could be that what he'd remembered actually happened. This meant that somewhere in his mind was a mental tripwire that caused a transformation into his 'Lisa' form. Somewhere else was one that turned him back. He would definitely need to get those switches under control. He went back to the living room, this time not reaching for the light. The light... His first transformation had occurred after a radical light shift. Something that simple could spontaneously activate a paranormal? That was scary! He concentrated, fumbling in the dark recesses of his mind for a mental switch. He thought about light, lightswitches, fireworks, camera flashes... Another burst of light flooded the room, and Brandon knew from the sensation that he was now in his 'Lisa' form. He felt horrible about the theft of her identity. He needed another name for it, himself in female form... whatever. 'Lisa'... 'L'. 'Elle?' It'd do until something better came along. Elle climbed from the couch, to go to his... her computer. He (DAMMIT!) She got up to move, and stopped. Something was going to have to be done about the clothing issue. Not to mention, there was still a simple function of the paranormal power he/she needed to figure out. Namely, how to transform back to Brandon. Elle focused on her male form. Nothing. She imagined a lightbulb burning out. She imagined a void of darkness. Another burst of light filled the living room. Brandon felt his normal body. He sighed with great relief. He could live with being in a female form, assuming he had the option to return to his normal body at will. Maybe this wouldn't suck nearly so bad as he'd thought. He concentrated, and instantly returned to being Elle. She furrowed her brow, focusing, and again transformed. Okay, enough with flicking that switch. Brandon felt comfortable that it was now under his conscious control. Next? Clothes for the Elle form. He was getting a rug burn from the jeans he wore as he switched body sizes. He wouldn't need much. He didn't intend on spending much time in the femme form. Not at all, if he could help it. He went to his computer, and booted it up. Glancing at his watch, he realized he was late for school. Shit! He hastily dialed the office of the school. "Marshal High. This is Miss Brooks. May I help you?" the pleasant voice answered. "Miss Brooks, this is Brandon Shay. I'm ill and can't make it in today," he said, trying to sound as under the weather as possible. "All right dear. You get well, and hopefully we'll see you tomorrow. I'll pass this on to attendance," Ms. Brooks said in her professional voice. Well, there went the year's perfect attendance record! He sighed, realizing that an attendance record seemed a silly thing to worry about on the morning you wake up with paranormal abilities. He turned to the computer, and began searching the internet for places that created costumes for paranormals. He knew they existed. It took about ten minutes of filtering out porn sites to find a legitimate costume maker. They offered a wide variety of styles, custom made, with various kinds of material available. Brandon realized between superheroes, professional wrestlers, rock stars, and fetishists, there was a HUGE demand for this kind of business. Lisa wore size six shoes, he was pretty sure. She was a ... he thought she was a size six in clothing as well. He typed information onto the screen, selecting options. The basic outfit in spandex, with any choice of color scheme was four hundred dollars, not including accessories. Not bad. He had about a thousand in savings. He could get a couple extra niceties. For an extra two hundred, a costume could be made that would fit a person of variable size, up to an extent. He finally considered what he knew of Lisa's powers, and what his would likely end up being. It would be along the lines of the electromagnetic spectrum. Thinking about Lisa's description of the defracted lightbeam, Brandon decided to create a costume with the entire spectrum radiating from a central point. He also selected an extra item, a set of mirror finish wrap-around sunglasses, with a special coating that made them split light like a CD. Depending on the angle you saw them at, they could reflect any color. He was happy with the outfit, and paused. Now for the name... He went through an online database of hero names, sorting through the massive list. Lisa was right. Every good name for light effects was already taken. The best Brandon could think of was 'Footcandle', a name certain to get him laughed out of the paranormal community. Then he changed his thinking strategy. Eros... wasn't that a name from mythology? He pulled out his book on Greek Mythology by Edith Hamilton. Eros, see Cupid.... The first reference under Cupid was on page 38, 'The Lesser Gods of Olympus'.... "In the early accounts Eros was not Aphrodite's son, but merely her occasional companion. In the later poets he was her son and almost invariably a mischievous, naughty boy, or worse. 'Evil his heart, but honey-sweet his tongue. No truth in him, the rogue. He is cruel in his play'." Brandon laughed. The guy had picked his name well. His eyes caught the word 'rainbow' on the opposing page. He read the passage... "Iris was the Goddess of the Rainbow and a messenger of the gods, in the Iliad the only messenger. Hermes appears first in that capacity in the Odyssey, but he does not take Iris' place. Now the one, now the other is called upon by the gods." Brandon closed the book, sliding it back on the shelf. He was more than satisfied. He typed in the name 'Iris' in the hero name database. No entries found. Out of sick curiosity, he tried 'Aphrodite'. Three entries appeared. The first Aphrodite was a member of an organization back in the forties in Detroit. The second one died eight years ago. She'd been a member of a European group. The third was a secure record, posted a few months ago. The date of the entry seemed familiar. He closed his eyes, letting his brain relax. His eyes snapped back open, and he typed furiously, checking an article in the local newspapers' online archive. "Felon suspects, 'Vandals' taken into custody". It was filed the same night Majorette made her debut. The girl that was captured must be going by the name of Aphrodite. The record was probably sealed pending trial, or because she was a legal minor. Damn, if only Brandon knew a hacker. Alas, he didn't. He was sure one of the 'Fab Five' knew someone at Golden Shield with that kind of ability. If he had someone to bounce ideas off of, he might be able to come up with something. Unfortunately, the brightest guy he knew was another of the FSHAkids, Steve Andrews. Where did that leave him? He dropped the line of thought. He added one last detail to the costume order. Along with the full spectrum color fade, he placed a black spot at the center of the spread, which would radiate from the left breast, over the heart, then sent in the order for the costume. He took a brief moment, basking in his own clever thinking. The black spot represented the pupil of the eye, which was surrounded by an iris. He spent an extra fifty on express service. It would be ready in two hours. Nice. He took note of the address. It was in Cleveland. He started to panic, then remembered long distance travel was no longer a problem. ... Lisa Cross woke up feeling utterly like hell warmed up. She lay on her side, staring into the pitch darkness. At first, this didn't bother her, but soon she began to distress. She was NEVER in total darkness. Since puberty, her eyesight had been so acute that she could read a book by starlight. Once she was taken into a cavern, where not even UV light fell. Even in the absence of that, she could see the infrared radiated by the other people on the tour. She could even see nuances of air temperature. This was the first time in more than five years that she saw nothing. She waited, and realized she actually could see the faintest hints of light. She felt along the edge of her bed, across the wall, and found the lightswitch. When she flicked it on, she suddenly felt a screaming pain behind her eyes, as they tried to adjust to the change. She had a brief moment of panic. What had happened? Her eyes painfully adjusted, and Lisa realized her beneficial mutation had shut down. It had taken her more than a year to get used to the changes the first time. Now, having that part of her taken away was like having a limb cut off. Something weird was going on. Maybe she was just sick, and her body shut down her abilities to conserve energy or something. She went on with her morning routine, without her normal perky attitude. As she worked with her hair and makeup, she felt a sharp pain in her head. The room seemed to brighten for a moment. It seemed that for a second, she could hear echoes in her mind. Another mental voice fought for space. The effect lasted only a moment, and finally, everything seemed normal again. As normal as things ever get for a seventeen-year-old activated paranormal. She focused for a moment, and a burst of light popped a few feet from her vanity. She smiled and relaxed. Things were all right. She wouldn't have to explain anything this evening at the FSHA meeting. Chapter 6: Marshal High Keith Patterson sat in study hall staring at his hands. He was mad. He'd been mad for months. His best friend was dead. That had been like a kick in the head to him. Mike Mazzy had been just amazing amounts of fun. The two had gone to ball games together since they were in the third grade. He missed his friend. He knew the note Mike left was not bullshit. He knew Mike had been hiding something. He had no idea that it was being gay. The two of them used to torment a couple of the fruity kids mercilessly. Keith had done it just for fun, but Mike had some real issue with these kids. Eric Kingsley said that Mike had put some moves on him the night before he killed himself. Keith just felt his anger rising. He couldn't let the pain out. He wanted to cry, but that just made him angrier. He wanted Mike back, fag or not. Keith didn't really care what someone did, as long as they didn't mess with him. The thing that made him most pissed was the way he'd acted last night after football practice. He'd snapped at Brandon, pulling the fag card again. Now he sat pondering the reaction to such abuse. Would Brandon flip and kill himself as well? Keith felt sick with guilt, wondering if he'd contributed to another person's death. He finally excused himself, and headed for the office. He needed to talk to a guidance councilor. This would be a first. On his way, he walked past a study room. Inside he caught a glimpse of Gloria Camdon and Lisa Cross. He stopped in his tracks. He stood there, unable to move. He knew he should go talk to Gloria. Guilt weighed heavily on him, but his feet wouldn't respond. Gloria walked to the door, opening it wide, and looked at Keith standing there. He expected something harsh to come out of her mouth. "Is everything all right, Keith?" She asked. She seemed genuinely concerned. He couldn't speak. His heart was pounding in his chest. "Gloria...," he began, not knowing how to continue. "Yes, Keith?" She watched him as he nearly broke out sweating. "Look... I'm sorry for all the shit I put you through when you were Glen." He looked at the floor. "I've been really bummed out since Mike died, and I guess... I kind of feel responsible for it, in a way." He managed to look up, meeting Gloria's eyes. "Come in here and sit down," Gloria said softly, gesturing into the room. He dropped his books on the table, and sat next to Lisa. She sniffled slightly, and wiped her nose, watching him with a perplexed expression on her face. She was still feeling a bit sick. "Did you come all the way from whatever class you were in to tell me that?" Gloria asked, equally perplexed. "No. I ran into Brandon Shay last night in the locker room. I started giving him shit about being gay. It was reflex. Now... I'm sitting here thinking he might do what Mike did. I was headed for the office. I just needed to talk to someone. Then, I saw you. I needed to... I needed to tell you how sorry I am for all the shit I've given you in the last three years," he spoke. "I guess that's everything... " He stood up, looking at the two girls, and headed down the hall toward the office. Gloria sat dumbfounded. Lisa wiped at her runny nose, and smiled. "Bet you didn't see that coming!" she said brightly. ... Laura Sanders lay half asleep at her desk. It was sixth period, and she felt utterly horrible. Along with the insomnia she had suffered in the last couple months, she was sure she was running a fever now as well. In her dream, she walked over rubble. The buildings around her were broken and vacant. As it often is in dreams, things were not the way they normally were. She had been standing downtown, and now, here in front of her was the high school. The sun was setting, casting jagged shadows from the broken building. She watched the warm red glow of the setting sun. Suddenly she could hear something echoing from the ruins of the school, and without warning, a swarm of bats burst out of a broken window, creating a living cyclone. The high, piercing screams grew to fevered pitch, and she suddenly snapped back to the waking world. "Shit," she said, louder than she intended. Several other students looked at her with odd expressions. A few were snickering. The teacher watched her with disdain. "Miss Sanders, it's bad enough that you sleep in class, but these sorts of disturbance will not be tolerated," he said with authority. She ignored him, moving for the door. She felt something very odd, like a mounting sense of tension. It felt to her like reality was about to go 'pop'. "Miss Sanders. Sit down!" Mr. Wilson demanded. She pushed through the door, and retrieved her cell phone. She took her eye off the vacant hall long enough to hit the speed dial button for Gloria's FSHA pager. She reached the stair well and stopped. She could feel an odd fear. The ghost of sounds from her dream came back. The high pitched screech of bats sent a shiver down her spine. Her nipples grew erect from the chill, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Laura had only reacted precognitively to very powerful emotional events while awake. Death, birth, and massive levels of fear had triggered her visions. This one... this one she didn't understand. She sprinted up the stairs to the third floor. As she reached the landing, her phone rang. "Yeah?" She managed through gasps. "Lisa? This is Gloria. What's up?" Gloria asked, in very trepidatious tones. "I'm not sure. I have some..." Laura paused for a breath. "Some kind of precognitive event about to go. Come up to the third floor East," she finished. She stopped for a moment, trying to listen over the sound of her own pounding heart. The stairwell was definitely the location. She glanced at her watch. It was mid-period. Everyone should be in class. She dripped with sweat from the exertion and from fever. What the hell was going on? As she stepped cautiously down the hall, she neared the third floor men's room. It had no door, but instead was designed with staggered walls to block any view from outside. She heard what sounded like someone throwing up inside. The sounds continued for another few seconds before Laura saw Gloria bolting down the hall toward her. She'd worked with Gloria in practice sessions for more than two months, and still couldn't get over how fast the girl could run, and how silent she was while doing it. "Lisa's right behind me," Gloria said as she trotted to a halt. "So, what's up?" Gloria looked around, throwing her backpack on the floor, and retrieving two "majorette" batons. "I don't know. What does 'chiroptera' mean?" Laura asked. "I don't know. Why?" Gloria felt disturbed by Laura's actions. She seemed almost in a fugue. "The word is echoing in my mind," Laura said in a far off voice. A young man staggered from the restroom. They both recognized him as Thomas McGuire. He was in their fourth period Life Science class. On the same day Laura had been determined to have the Conrad Sequence, he had as well, but his mutation had no potential for natural activation. He looked feverish and was shivering. "Tom... are you all right?" Gloria offered. "I... don't...," he didn't finish. He motioned like he was about to vomit, but only coughed. His face was bright red. He clinched his jaw. "What... whatever it is, it hurts," he managed. His legs finally buckled and he fell forward. His hands seemed to seize up, and a scream of utter agony escaped his lips. From the kneeling position, he lifted a trembling hand, and watched as his fingers began to elongate. Lisa ran down the hall toward the scene. "What's...?" she began, then stopped to watch the horrific metamorphosis before them. Tom's arms were shifting. The sound of the bones transforming was clear to all of them. The arms of his T-shirt began to rip as the skin under his arm started pulling out into a membrane. The fingers continued to extend, creating the spars of a wing. Only his thumb remained undisturbed. His next scream sent Gloria to her knees. The sound included a hypersonic burst that felt like it would make her teeth explode. Laura and Lisa looked on in astonishment. "He's activating," Laura finally realized. "He has no activation potential. He CAN'T activate!" Gloria shouted. "Well then, what the fuck do you call that?" Laura returned, pointing at the young man as his ears began sliding up his head, and reshaping. Tom pulled himself to his feet with his misshapen arm. He looked at it in shock. He opened his mouth slightly and wiggled his jaw side to side. It felt so unreal to him. He ran his tongue over his elongated canines. "What the hell just happened," he managed through his new fangs. Tom tore the worthless remains of his shirt away, revealing the coarse hair that had grown to cover his upper body. The sound of his screech had attracted onlookers from nearby classrooms. Several students murmured and gasped. Tom stretched one arm, now transformed into a leathery wing. "Oh God. What have I become?" he said in shock. He wandered back into the men's room. The students started to crowd about. "Everybody get back in your classrooms NOW!" Laura bellowed. All three girls were surprised at the fact that people actually listened. From the men's room, they could hear the sobs, and finally the scream. Gloria cringed again at the piercing whistle embedded in the sound. Without warning, the cinderblock wall closing off view of the restroom exploded outward. Reflexively, Lisa threw a hand up to block the debris and a semicircle of light materialized. The fragments bounced harmlessly off of the shield. Tom waded through the rubble, looking miserable, confused, and somewhat astonished, as he brushed concrete dust from what now passed for a fist. Laura's attention was split between Tom, and now Lisa. In their time together, Lisa had never created an energy shield like that. Gloria stepped out from behind the light barrier. "Tom, calm down. I know that manifesting is a hard time," she began. "You turned into a female, not a freak! You have NO IDEA how this feels!" He sprayed spittle as he spoke. He could see the other students watching him. "God... my life is over," he said softly. "Tom, come on. We can help you. Just stay calm," Gloria tried to speak as soothingly as possible. She reached out to touch him. "Shut up!" He screamed. Tom whipped his deformed arm forward at blinding speed, catching Gloria in the center of the chest. The hit sent her hurtling into a row of lockers. She caved into them, getting wedged almost entirely inside one. Tom felt total panic. He turned and looked at the large window at the end of the hall. He took several running steps, spread his new wings and made several rapid beats, before folding them again as he crashed through the window. Once through, he reopened them and made a sharp left turn out of sight. From inside the locker, Gloria could still hear his piercing whistles. Somewhere through the throbbing pain, she was thinking he must have echolocation. ... Steven Andrews sat in a room just off the main gym. He was working on a rowing machine. He stared in boredom out the Plexiglas window at the cute girls running laps on the track that encircled the basketball court. The raised track was just above hoop level, and from this vantage point, he caught flashes of panties under their jogging shorts. He had a really great girlfriend, but he wasn't blind. He still liked to look. He watched as they glided past. Along with the particularly cute ones, there was a younger girl that looked like she was having problems. She was overweight, short, and pallid. Beyond that, she seemed ill. Steve stood up from the rowing machine and walked into the short hall, leading into the gym. He could hear the head female coach deriding the young girl. "I don't care if you're sick, you little butterball. You obviously need the exercise, considering how you're handling it. Suck it up and gut it out, girl." Mrs. Valentine shouted. Suddenly, Steve's pager went off. He pulled it out, and read the text message. It just said "Main Gym, now". It was from Laura. The group had worked together enough to agree that anything Laura said was not up for debate. She didn't always understand her precognitive bursts, but they were always accurate. A moment later, Steve watched Gerald Johnson materialize through the wall of the second floor. He took position on the balcony, peering over the railing. The second floor of the gym had folding bleachers on two opposing sides, and equipment rooms on a third. Steve stood on the first floor under the bleachers. To his left, on the second floor was Gerald, by the equipment rooms. "Mr. Johnson. Get off my track." Mrs. Valentine demanded in a drill sergeant tone. Gerald held up his FSHA pager in one hand and the middle finger of the other. He threw a glance at Steve. Steve held his hands up in the universal "I don't have a damn clue what's going on" sign, then pointed speculatively at the young girl on the far side of the gym, second floor. Gerald began walking in her direction. He didn't have the cockiness he had only months ago. Talon had shown him that his ghosting had limitations, and even while intangible, there were still ways to hurt him. He approached with caution. "Hey, girl. Are you all right?" Gerald asked very gently. "Yeah. I just have a stitch in my side. I think maybe I'm sick." She looked up at Gerald. He watched a strange sheen flicker over her. A moment later he heard the ominous sound of splintering concrete under both of them. Gerald made a dive for the girl, hoping to grab her, and ghost before either of them could be hurt. Unfortunately, she fell like a rock through the crumbling floor. Steve watched as the entire underside of the catwalk buckled and collapsed. Along with twisted metal and chunks of concrete, the entire folding bleacher tore from the wall and fell on top of the wreckage. There was a rumble through the entire building and deafening screeches of mangling metal, crushing stone, and splintering lumber. Gerald floated gracefully down to floor level, landing just beyond the pile as clouds of dust blew past. The fire alarm sounded, and students made a mad dash for every exit. "Shit!" Steve yelled as he bolted for the fire extinguisher. He then turned toward the pile of debris, tossing the extinguisher to Fade. Steve realized he was going into "hero" mode, even referring to Gerald as Fade. One young woman was pinned under a section of the fallen bleachers. Steve felt the charge of power revving up his spine. He pushed the energy out his hands in a concentrated blast of plasma sparks, shearing the wood easily. Gerald followed up with a burst from the extinguisher, ensuring nothing would ignite, then helped the girl up as Steve looked for the little portly chick. He knew she'd taken the full load of rubble on her. He wasn't thrilled at the notion of what he'd see when he did find her. The pile was so massive, he didn't know where to start. Beyond that, he was afraid any heat to metal would conduct to the girl, and bake her alive, if she even WAS still alive. The rubble shifted with a groan of metal. A moment later, it shifted again. A pile seemed to erupt from the center, sending debris blasting across the gym floor. On instinct, Steve vaporized a piece that careened toward him. From the center of the pile, the seemingly unharmed young girl tried to wriggle free, but everything she tried to brace herself against simply crushed under the pressure she applied. After a few frustrating moments, she was near tears. Steve watched her closely. She was sunk up to her knees through the floor. Every time she stepped, the same thing happened. "Kelly," Steve heard a familiar voice shout. He turned to see Gloria entering the gym. The girl turned to look at Gloria. "You need to relax. Calm down. You have just manifested a beneficial mutation. If you can calm yourself, hopefully the effect will lessen or stop. Until then, you're likely to crush anything you step on." Gloria stated very gently, but clearly. Kelly closed her eyes for a moment, and exhaled. She stepped out of the hole she'd sunk into and clambered over the pile of debris. Gloria met her with a hug. "You okay?" Gloria asked. "Yeah. I think so. Thanks." Kelly replied. Gloria, Kelly, and Steve walked out of the building as Gerald made a sweep for other people who might still be inside. Laura met them outside the Gym. "Wow. Two manifestations in one day. I wonder when the next one will be?" Gloria wondered. "We already missed the next one." Laura almost whispered. As she spoke, the fire alarms of the main building went off. ... By the time Talon came screaming in on his hover bike, the area had already been cordoned off. Police and firefighters were on the scene. The firemen seemed to be concentrating on the gym. Hundreds of students milled about, and the police were keeping their distance. Talon rotated the thrusters on his bike, bringing them to vertical, and leaned the bike in the direction he wished to go. He gently guided it to an open area of parking lot, then throttled down. The wheels of the bike rotated back into normal riding mode from the horizontal flight position. The bike touched down lightly, and a second later, Talon dismounted, pressing a button on his gauntlet to activate security systems. He walked confidently toward the officers, finally veering toward a plainclothes female detective. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant LeGraus," Talon's modulated voice resonated. "Any change to the situation?" "Talon," The young detective nodded. "We're still waiting on the D.O.D. Biowarfare folks. Without the proper HazMat gear, we can't get in to inspect any of the youth." "How many total?" Talon had been listening over police band as he approached, but things had happened quickly, and he wanted to make sure he had the right number. "It looks like seven manifestations in only about three hours." Yvette LeGraus confirmed. "Statistically impossible." Talon stated flatly. "Especially considering one of the kids had been confirmed to have CS, with no chance of activation." the detective added. "Each of the students also confirmed feeling ill for a few hours before manifestation." "Are you thinking it was an airborne virus?" Talon questioned. "Most likely," She confirmed. "That's why we had to quarantine the area." "Any idea on the vector?" He asked. "Not yet. One of your kids seems to be the one with the earliest symptoms. She said she woke up feeling ill this morning." The detective watched the stoic hero for any emotional response. It troubled her that Talon could control his body language. It was worse that his voice modulator and helmet prevented any chance of reading facial features or hearing minute vocal inflections. His suit was designed in part to hide emotions. "Which one?" Talon continued. "Lisa Cross," the detective said, pointing to a group of students segregated from the others. "Am I missing something? I have five kids in FSHA already. There are eleven students there. You said seven new manifestations. Where's the last?" Talon turned his dark visored helm toward the detective. "We don't know. He had a particularly... disturbing manifestation. He broke out of a window and took off before anyone could stop him. He put Majorette through some lockers in the process." She stared at the ground while she talked. "Scary to think one airborne virus created by the right person could turn all of humanity into wildcard paranormals, isn't it?" Talon spoke to her fear. "I don't think you have any idea how frightening that is to someone with no beneficial mutation, to think of countless people capable of who knows what. Imagine ten-year-old kids suddenly gifted with the firepower of a small army. It doesn't even