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Luna 1: Drafted Chapter 4 Shopping A Whateley Academy tale By Irvine This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity. If you would like background information on the 'cannon' characters, see: http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Table_of_Contents For a copy of the campus map I am using, see: http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130114152730/crystalhall/images/d/ de/Map_v052.jpg Authors note: I mention a rather bizarre federal loophole based on the supreme court decision in 'Technomancer vs. The Transportation Safety Administration, 2002', see the official cannon story 'Gearhead by E. E. Nalley' for an explanation. Scratchy Since I apparently don't sleep, I don't know if 'waking' is the correct verb, but I woke up very early. That is to say, my mum, (god I liked saying that,) released me from her embrace around 4am . The first thing I became aware of was, the sheets were really scratchy. Not irritating like synthetics, just rough like sandpaper. Well, okay slight exaggeration there, but I am sure you get the picture. Evidently my delicate female skin was quite sensitive to cheap cotton bed linen. With no real hope of proper sleep, I got up and headed to the shower. I briefly thought about playing with the Hydroflux equipment, but truth be told, I was still a bit frightened by my female anatomy. So, giving it a miss, I had a long comfortable shower then settled down in front of my vanity to get to grips with the technicalities of hair and makeup. By now, even though I was a bit intimidated by my more intimate parts, I was very comfortable with the actuality of being a girl and wanted to make a success of it. Not only that, my mum was quite insistent my looks were my most powerful weapon, and was adamant I learn to present them in their most flattering light. I had bought a hair-drier, curling tongs and heated-rollers; and, to be perfectly frank, after reading the instructions, I was lost. The mysteries of feminine hair seemed beyond me. Wrapping a short towel around my head to keep any damp hair away from my face. To give me time to think, I got dressed before wrapping another towel around my shoulders to help keep my top clean. Deciding, for the moment, to concentrate on the make-up, it took me three attempts before I could expertly reproduce the look I had been given in the castle. Not sure about the effects of the chemicals in the face cleaner and tissues, after cleaning off the final successful attempt, I quickly washed my face with lots of fresh water. I was now ready to try tackling my hair. Although it had a plethora of mysterious attachments, the hair dryer seemed the simplest to master. Unfortunately, since my hair was very thick and currently had a few tangles, brushing it was painful. Putting the hair-drier to one side, I started off by running my fingers through my hair, before progressing to a wide toothed Afro comb, then a slightly smaller toothed comb. It became hypnotic, almost therapeutic, and for a while I zoned out. What was captivating me was how long and silky my hair was. It stretched down to below my breasts, and the more I combed it, the more silky it became. When I came out of my trance, it was with some amazement I realized that my hair was only slightly damp, with a natural waviness. Thinking about styles: I had always liked the style where girls would weave two small braids with their front locks; and, along with the bulk of the hair, fasten them at the back with a clasp. It seemed fairly simple, and I had bought a few decorative clasps and barrettes. Diving into my jewellery box, I quickly found a barrette about 7cm long by 3cm wide made from silver with a lapis lazuli inlay. Pinning up the top of my hair, I fitted the bindi and combed the hair out around it, before attempting to weave the first braid. It wasn't that difficult, after two attempts I had it down pat, and after finishing a matching braid on the other side, I was combing the rest of my hair behind my head ready for the barrette. All in all, I was quite pleased with the look, and set about putting on my make-up, a trick which I had already mastered. After switching out the earrings back to the original sapphires, (in the process, making another note to find some way to make the piercings permanent,) I put on the rest of my jewellery along with the heeled sandals I was given at the castle. With a quick dash of the floral scent that mum had liked, I was ready to face whatever tribulations the day would throw at me. By the way, I wasn't wearing my jewellery out of pure vanity, I had an appointment with both my guardian and Cecilia Rodgers. I wanted to make an impression with my guardian, but more importantly, I was taking all of my jewellery, including what was in my jewellery box, with me to the Rodgers Boutique. Basically, I wanted to make sure that my clothes would go well with my chosen style of adornment. Apart from that, mum was going to show me how to load my jewellery up with enchantments and charms, so it was important that people get used to seeing me fully kitted out. Breakfast When I manifested as a pre-cog, one of the first things I noticed was, during team sports, I had a sort of situational awareness: I was very much aware of what the opposing team were upto and their overall goal with respect to how they were positioning themselves. Taking the path between the Doyle Medical centre and Melville, I became aware, or rather intuitively felt, that someone was lying in wait to ambush me. While I was with Baron Blitzen, I had taken active measures to hide my telepathic gift, measures that were no longer necessary. Sampling the surrounding area, I zeroed in on a man hiding in the bushes about 50 metres ahead. Sensing he was very excited to see me and preparing to jump out, I readied a one-two telepathic punch followed by a mesmerising blast of my aura. I briefly flirted with the idea of bonding him, but realised that would probably cause more trouble than it was worth. If nothing else, the way my reputation was going, I would probably be accused of raping the rapist. It went exactly as planned, with a gleeful shout of: "Miss....", he burst from the bushes just as I drew level, and stopped dead in his tracks with a pole-axed expression from a telepathic smack to the goolies. This quickly turned into a big cheesy grin, as my mesmer hit him. He was looking a bit green about the gills, but he was just soo happy.... Now that I had him, after a few minutes thought, I decided that, since I was supposed to be a member of security, I should maybe take him into custody or something. Telling him to follow along, we marched into Kane Hall with him scampering ahead to open the door for me. (Well, since I was wearing the tight pencil skirt and strappy sandals, maybe marching wasn't quite the right word.) Along with the officer on the duty desk, Chief Delarose and Sam were standing in the middle of reception discussing some detail or another. Looking up and seeing me and my prisoner, the Chief broke into a big smile, saying: "Why, if it isn't Special Agent Bernstein, as I live and breath. What do we owe this....." Whatever he was going to say trailed off as, seeing the blissfully vacant look on my prisoners face, he gave me a sharp look and demanded: "What did you do to him?" Then with a questioning gesture: "You didn't...?" The Admiral, with a resigned sigh, restricted herself to: "Oh Fiona, what have you done now?" Yep, I was in trouble again, and Sam was back to being the Admiral. Realising the direction things were going, I replied aggressively: "Look, the creep tried to rape me." Then, somewhat righteously: "It was my duty as a campus security auxiliary to bring him in for questioning." My indignation didn't seem to move them, as both the Chief and the Admiral simultaneously voiced a sceptical: "Rape?" Aggressive attack didn't seem to be working, maybe a bit more teenage whining was in order: "He was hiding in a bush, and jumped out as I walked past." Seeing their still sceptical looks, and feeling I needed to explain myself a bit more. With possibly a touch too much nonchalance, I continued: "What was I supposed to do? There I am, a young defenceless girl walking along a deserted path, and this 'pervert' jumps out to drag me into the bushes and commit god knows what atrocities on my body?." Chief Delarose almost screamed: "He wasn't trying to rape you, he was trying to recruit you!" "Huh?" Sam, she was back to being my friend, suggested: "Why don't you let me handle this Chief." Turning to me, she explained: "The police and intelligence services of various governments have teams of recruiters working undercover on campus to try to hire top talent. Special Agent Bernstein here works for the FBI.... What did you do to him by the way? Please tell me you haven't bonded him?" With Agent Bernstein standing staring at me with a vacant, adoring gaze, ready to immediately satisfy my slightest whim, and realising I was possibly in real trouble, I thought to myself: 'You know self,... maybe if we let him go they might cut us a little slack.' Waving my hand in an entirely superfluous, vaguely magical gesture, I released the mesmer. In the process I explained: "I just gave him a little blast of my aura to make him docile." Special Agent Bernstein, turning a ghastly shade of puce green, immediately doubled over clutching his family jewels, and proceeded to empty his stomach of everything he had ever eaten. Sensing the unasked question, I added: "Oh, and I telepathically kicked him in the nuts." Giving the poor guy a second look, I qualified: "Well, I haven't really got the hang of it yet, so maybe it felt more like I stomped on them." The duty sergeant; who, with the lightening quick reflexes of a combat veteran, was thrusting a waste-paper basket in the direction of the FBI agent, looked at me with horror as did both the Chief and Sam. Special Agent Bernstein, before grabbing the waste-paper basket and throwing up some more, managed to gasp at me: "Try: 'Placing them on an anvil and having them smashed with a sledge hammer.'" Noting the typical male reaction to the mental imagery, I helpfully pointed out: "He isn't physically injured, he just won't be feeling... mm... frisky(?)... for a couple of day's." To cut to the nub, apart from the fact that I had gotten into a potentially dangerous situation without backup, technically I wasn't in trouble. The recruiters were supposed to restrict themselves to the campus job fair; but, in an effort to get a jump on their competitors, they regularly made a pest of themselves. It was generally felt that little incidents like this helped keep the nuisance factor down to tolerable levels. There was a tiny little issue with the Whateley cannon of psychic ethics, but it was agreed that, since he had jumped out on me, I had good reason to believe I was defending myself. This explanation was supported by Agent Bernstein when, by way of apology, I offered that when he was feeling better, he could make his pitch about the benefits of an FBI scholarship along with the associated career opportunities. On the other hand, I had only succeeded in increasing Sam and the Chiefs determination to keep me so busy I wouldn't have time for extracurricular misadventures. This impression was based partly on the stern way in which I was told that once I had filled out an incident report, it, along with the rest of the day's security reports, would be added to my in-box for processing. The other hint they were less than pleased was: I was being moved to the head of the list for power testing. First thing tomorrow morning, before the bulk of the new fresher intake even arrived, I had an appointment in the power lab. As Sam sweetly put it: "We want to get your details so you can start holo- sim training on: 'Protocols and standards of behaviour for campus security.'" Grinning, she then went on to inform me: "The school has a UN affiliated JTROC program, for the most part, students have already made arrangements to join through their national OTC programs before arriving at Whateley. The problem is that the basic range safety courses don't start until winter term. To get around this, we run a special induction course during freshers week for prospective new members. It is based on the requirements for a 'federal concealed carry permit' and it allows us get new JTROC members playing to the same script and onto the ranges." Her smile was positively evil as she finished: "Since I have already made arrangements for you to join the JTROC, you will be taking this course. It runs throughout fresher's week, and has a full schedule with both day and night classes to give you time to complete your other class registration requirements. There is also a final exam, an exam by the way, I expect you to 'ace', no excuses accepted." So much for my freshers week and, to quote the student handbook: 'The great opportunities it presented new students.' I was really hungry when I finally got out of Kane hall to go for breakfast, but only had a very short half hour before my debriefing on how I escaped from Baron Blitzen. With this thought in mind, I quickly filled a tray with all the things girls are supposed to avoid, and sat at the first empty table. Eating quickly, and still a bit hungry, I went back for seconds. Given the quantities I had heaped on my plates, (plural,) even for my normal enhanced appetite, this was a bit unusual. However, since I was eating my breakfast alone while wallowing in self pity at life's many injustices, I brushed it off as simple comfort eating. Debriefed Debriefing was a bit like the inquisition: The Chief, Sam, gunny Bardue, RSM Burlington-Smythe and staff sergeant Wilson were arranged on one side of the table, while a very forlorn and solitary little me was sitting in the chair facing them. In terms of fire-power, this was serious overkill. Between them, they had about a hundred years service in British and American special forces, and all of that experience was directed at taking apart and critiquing my escape. Okay, to be fair, they were pretty gentle with me. They already knew the details of the actual escape from debriefing Blackstar squad, and were more interested in my plan, how I came up with it and what influence precognition played in the planning. In fact, they actually helped me get a better grasp of the nature of my pre-cog talent. I started off by explaining how, apart from brief flashes and hunches, the basic nature of my gift seemed to be a type of enhanced situational awareness. When I told them about my disastrous first visit to the 'web of fate' and the visions of a likely demonic future, I could almost see the skin creeping up the backs of their necks and we got kind of sidetracked. For sake of being concise, I wont stick to chronological order that information was shared, (note the use of the word shared!) In essence, they had been told that, apart from me, no pre-cog had seen beyond mid 2008 and lived to tell about it. They were very interested in knowing if I had foreseen a way of stopping my vision happening, and, although they had the calm of professional soldiers, were even more creeped out when I replied in the negative. What really weirded them out however, was, from what I saw in my visions, mid 2008 was only one of hundreds of thousands of potential launching points into hell. All of this made them very interested in understanding how I had used my gift to escape from Baron Blitzen. Explaining the fluid nature of the future; how in many ways it was like a maze, and, (possibly because I was untrained,) about the lack definition in my original vision. I told them that I knew that, if I survived, I would arrive at Whateley and I would have joined with Princess Selene, but the exact details were initially vague and the further I got from the point of entry, the less they could be relied upon as a guide. This lead into my plan of escape and how I developed it. By the time we had finished, I felt they were quite impressed. Burlington-Smythe in particular, was gloating about how I had played RSM Wilkins. Apparently he knew Wilkins from the 'regiment', and while he respected him as a soldier, had never really liked him. There seemed to be a suggestion in what he was saying that he fully intended use the regiment's old boy network to let Wilkins know how he had been suckered. As Sam summed it up, the general feeling was that I had come up with a workable long term strategy to get into a position where I could use my abilities to escape. During the escape, I had made tactically sound decisions which were focused on the primary goal of escaping with the information necessary to mount a rescue of the other women and children. More importantly, while sorely tempted, I had not fallen into the trap of going beyond the basic mission parameters: Like for example, trying to mount my own rescue attempt of women and children who, because of the Baron's indoctrination, might very well have resisted being 'rescued'. As I would find out later in the year: Sam was so impressed, she would use my escape, along with the 'D-day assault on Br?court Manor', in one of her lectures on small unit tactics. The parallel being that the 'Br?court assault' had focused on the primary goal of disabling the guns bombarding Utah beach, and not fallen into the trap of trying to take the position. A trap which would certainly have resulted in a much higher number of casualties and could easily have resulted in failure to achieve the mission's primary objective. Although the debriefing had gone quite well, it had taken over two hours and I was exhausted by the time I met Mrs Potter's daughter for the first time. My Guardian Waiting for us in the reception was a stout middle aged woman who, for the benefit of any watchers, gave me a big hug, while explaining in a loud voice how she had been so worried about me. Taking charge, Sam then invited us into our office so that we could have some privacy for our 'reunion'. Pulling the seats from our desks alongside the one from in front of Sam's desk, we seated ourselves in a comfortably intimate circle before getting down to business. My guardian, a widow with two grown up children who lived in Boston and New York, was called Mrs Waterford, though she insisted I call her Agnes. Explaining that she lived in a cottage on the outskirts of Dunwich, she filled me in on the little details that I would need to know. I must admit, I liked her. In a lot of way's she was like a younger version of my grandmother who had died a few years ago. My grandmother by the way, was probably the only person who had ever stood up to my father, my uncle Dave taking the less confrontational approach of just ignoring him. The bulk of the conversation was taken up with my trust fund; setting up a charitable donation to finance the new security barracks, and the forming of a limited company to employ my private army. This company was being registered as a legitimate security business with all the appropriate permits and licences. In addition, since, as part of the charitable donation, they were technically being contracted to Whately, its employees were being deputised as Federal Agents. The twist here was: Because I was the squad's commander of record, once I had passed the JTROC foundation course, I was also being deputised as a federal agent. The lawyers felt that in light of a few recent test cases, particularly the supreme court decision in 'Technomancer vs. The Transportation Safety Administration, 2002', they had a good chance of making it stick. On the advice of Mrs Potter and Circe, the wheels had already been set in motion for all of this before my arrival and now that I was finally here, they could proceed with the detailed work. While we were talking about my trust fund, I had a flash about a financial crisis involving sub-primes and the growth potential of Bullion, Treasuries and Swiss Guilts. I had no idea what any of these terms meant, but when I told her what I could, Mrs Waterford, or rather Agnes, laughed and explained her mother had also warned her, saying: "In some way's precognition is my biggest investment problem." Apparently, apart from the often cryptic nature of Mrs Potter's hints, pre-cogs and their families weren't, strictly speaking, forbidden from investment markets in the way that we were forbidden from casinos and other forms of gambling, but we were held to a much higher standard by the Securities and Exchange Commission vis a vis insider trading laws. As she explained it, she had to have an impeccable paper trail demonstrating that any investments she made were based on sound financial information that was freely available to anyone who cared to look. The requirements were so exacting, most pre-cogs found it was much simpler to set up a blind trust to manage their investments. On the other hand, she had years of experience managing both her own portfolio and that of her mother's. As a result, she had all the contacts already in place to deal with the required research. The really good news however, was that, because she was restructuring our portfolios, she was effectively taking profits. In my case, the accountants felt that, taking into account tax-deductions like my charitable donations to the school, even after I had put $15 million aside for a new security barrack; the inflation adjusted net value of my trust-fund would increase by more than I could possibly hope to spend. Lunch Having dealt with all the incidentals, we were ready for the important business of getting something to eat before my appointment at the Rogers Boutique. When we got outside, we found Starlance waiting for us dressed in a Whateley security uniform and acting as the designated driver of a campus SUV. Saluting Sam and me, he informed us in a clipped military style that the emergency dormitory had already arrived and was being installed behind Kane Hall. Then turning, he opened the rear door for Mrs Waterford before rushing to open the door on the other side for me. Sam took the opportunity to quickly get in the front passenger seat without any unwanted assistance. On the way into town, Agnes, she was quite insistent about me not calling her Mrs Waterford, told us she had taken the liberty of booking a table at Sally's Restaurant for an early lunch. She described it as being: "Quite a homey little restaurant which is often used as a meeting place by the town's movers and shakers." It was still a bit early for the regular lunch crowd; but still, when we arrived, there was a couple of locals and a few tourists already in the restaurant. Starlance, entering with us and scanning for any potential threats before retiring to keep watch from the car, raised a couple of eyebrows, though Agnes handled it in her stride. Exchanging greetings with one of Dunwich's better known gossips, she casually reminded her that her ward had recently been kidnapped and suggested that the school was taking no chances with my safety. This of course lead to me being introduced to the town gossip, who, while not quite fawning all over me, agreed I was quite the loveliest creature she had ever seen. I have to point out here, I was starting to find being referred to as 'quite the loveliest creature', a bit insulting. Mrs Horton, then Agnes and now the town gossip had all used the exact same expression. As far as I knew, I looked like a normal, albeit exceptionally beautiful, human girl. Did I have fairy wings and pointed ears I couldn't see? Once we finally got seated and were waiting for the menu, Agnes leaned into me conspiratorially and confided she was: "... finding all this cloak and dagger stuff quite exciting." As she saw it, she was a fat old woman who had never really left Dunwich. A town which in her opinion was a great place to bring up children, but was so boring, with everyday being exactly the same as the last, it could easily have been the inspiration for Ground Hog Day. Lunch was good, and because the school was a major source of revenue, the towns inhabitants had a very discreet 'hear nothing', 'see nothing' attitude when it came to Whateley students. For me this was great news, since I was able to tuck in with abandon. When Agnes mentioned my appetite, I pointed out I was an exemplar, then after a second and third thought, I realised that my appetite was much bigger than it had been before my joining with Princess Selene. Putting a few things together, it almost seemed as if, (along with my regen,) my exemplar rating had had a significant boost. I asked my mum about this, but she was at complete loss. As far as she knew, the magic and telepathy from my succubus aspect should bleed over into my human aspect, but the purely mutant powers were not part of the succubus heritage. In other words, she had no idea what was really going on. When I mentioned it to Sam, she was just as puzzled, and suggested it was all the more reason to get me into power testing at the earliest opportunity. The main topic of conversation centred around me and my jewellery, which Agnes really liked. She was particularly impressed with the bindi which she thought was very unusual but somehow seemed to really suit me. Once again leaning in conspiratorially, she asked: "Did you steal it from the Baron's castle?" Man, why does everyone take one look at my jewellery and assume I am a jewel thief in training? Since my explanation to Jadis the previous evening had fallen flat, I thought I would try something else. Blushing like a schoolgirl, I explained: "It was a gift I received from an admirer just before my escape." Agnes, a very wise woman, was not easily fooled, saying: "Good for you girl, look upon it as compensation. A girl can never have too much jewellery, and after what they put you through, I think you deserve it." You can see why I like Mrs potters daughter, she was a girl after my own larcenous heart. She went on to say that all the excitement had put her in the mood for more, and suggested she would like to act as chaperone on a shopping trip to Boston for me and one or two friends. The official aim of the trip being to find me a few more items of sparkling gaudiness to decorate my bodacious bod. Although I don't think she had any intention of doing so; before Sam could object, I quickly agreed. A shopping trip to Boston, chaperoned or otherwise, meshed well with my own plans for trying to fit in and make friends. Something I was going to be hard-pressed to do if Sam and the Chief really were intent on keeping me out of mischief by filling up all my free time. I was sure Vamp would jump at the chance, Jadis might be interested and there must be at least a couple of the new fresher intake who would like to go on tour of Boston's finest jewellery shops. So, with that in mind, we tentatively made plans for the second weekend after the start of classes. After we had finished lunch, we decided to stroll down to 'Rogers' Fabric Boutique'. I have to give Starlance his due, even though he had been a villain before I bonded him, he was a professional. Discreetly tailing us, he waited until we were about a third of the way to Cecilia Rodger's shop before moving off slowly to pull up outside Cecilia's shop just as we arrived. Meaning, we were not only always within easy distance for a rescue, we were always centrally placed with respect to his effective combat scanning range. Maybe I should explain: When I had first bonded them, in addition to my prescient knowledge, I had got a very quick run down on Blackstar squads power and skills. They were all low to mid level Aryan exemplars, even Startech, and they had all had extensive military training, this included the military use of both their powers and conventional weapons. They also had a great many years of real combat experience. Starport was primarily transport and reconnaissance. His teleportation limit was about fourteen people plus basic equipment, or a six man squad plus heavy equipment and supplies. After transporting the squad into an area of combat, he would teleport by line of sight to reconnoitre the drop zone. He was also a highly skilled sniper preferring a McMillan TAC-50 rifle fitted with the obligatory bipod and a devisor-tech, day- night scope. With his warping power, he could quickly and silently get into position for a kill shot. Starfire a mid level pyrokinetic energiser who, along with Starstrike, acted as aerial support; though it should be noted: Due to the squad's primary role as a scout infiltration group, unless actually in combat, being airborne was usually counter productive. As an energizer, he had the capacity to fire upto seven lightning bolts from his hands, before requiring a few hours to recharge. In addition to lightning blasts, his pyrokinetic talent allowed him to set anything combustible, (within a range of about 50 metres,) on fire with a glance. Even though this made him a very terrifying opponent, his effective range was closer to the enemy than sane people wished to be during a fire-fight, so his preferred weapon of choice was the M249 light machine gun. With a sustained rate of fire of 100 rpm and Starfire usually carrying at least half a dozen of the standard 200 round canvas ammunition drums, (at around 20kg + basic equipment + 7kg LMG, a heavy sustained load for a baseline, but not too great a problem for an exemplar/energiser,) he was capable of laying down around 15 minutes worth of near continuous, withering suppressing fire from either the ground or air. Starstrike your basic TK-Brick, was the squads tank. Able to fly, along with Starfire he could act as aerial support; but as previously pointed out, in a normal combat patrol this was a liability. With a telekinetic shield protecting him he was more or less immune to anything short of anti-brick rounds and could close with an enemy position and physically rip it apart. On the other hand anti-brick rounds were a serious problem, so his preferred weapon was a Carl Gustav recoilless rifle. With a TK field that extended upto 5 metres around him, he could load and fire the monster on his own. The main limitation to the weapon was the number of rounds he could carry. Because of his TK enhanced strength, this was more a question of bulk than mass, and he had designed a special ammunition rack fitted to a back frame. In addition to the recoilless rifle, he also carried an M16 set to fire in three round bursts. Starfury, the squads combat mage, was the mortar and camouflage expert. With years of experience, he had a wide selection of spells, along with a number of charms and enchantments that were combat ready. His stand- off weapon was a modern recurve bow, with a selection of 'barrage' arrows some charmed to create smoke, while the majority were charmed to explode, not only with the traditional fireball, but with a destructive shock-wave kicker. Firing at a 45 degree angle his effective barrage range was in the region 250 to 300 metres. An expert Olympic grade archer, at around 80 to 100 metres he was deadly accurate with arrows charmed to deliver a focused armour penetrating blast. This made him absolutely lethal against tanks and bunkers. As a supplement to this, he was also skilled with a slingshot catapult and carried a wide selection of charmed, colour coded, heavy beads that included magical capture gel rounds and smoke. He also carried an M16 slung over his shoulder as a backup weapon. Startech, the squad's devisor, was primarily in charge of communications and surveillance. Carrying an M16, his pack was loaded with devises and the parts that would allow him to improvise devisor-tech in the field; like, for example, the devises we used to set fire to the castle's C&C. Starlance was a mid level telepath, whose stand-off weapon was the squads standard M16 firing in three round bursts. To put it bluntly, for a military unit to use a telepath purely for interrogation was, at best, a criminal misuse of a powerful resource, and his main role was a telepathic scout. During a combat patrol, Starlance would scan the surrounding area for strong emotions radiating hostile intent. The effective scanning range fell off as a hyperbola, beyond about 500 metres the effect became unreliable; in the range 250 to 500 metres only non-telepaths with specialised training could block his scan. Once inside a hundred metres, it would take someone with exceptional training and control to block being detected. In close quarters combat of less than about 10 metres, he became extremely dangerous: He had developed telepathically attacking an opponent into a higher art form, and was also a highly skilled knife fighter who carried, (secreted about his battle dress,) a wide selection of daggers and throwing knives of all types. This made even other telepaths vulnerable to his combat skills. A slight digression there, but what with mentioning Starlance's powers, it seemed like a good opportunity to outline the rest of Blackstar squads power set. Anyway, as you can see, from the way Starlance had positioned himself during our stroll to Cecilia's shop, we were always inside Starlance's most effective combat range. He was about to enter the shop with us and repeat the scan he had made at the restaurant, but both Sam and Agnes strongly suggested this would not be a good idea. Apparently Cecilia was so good a seamstress, she was able to pick and choose her clients. As Sam put it: "It wouldn't matter if you were the Queen of England, you piss her off and you can kiss goodbye to her services." Pointing out I was Scottish, and, as far as I was concerned, being the 'Queen of Bloody England' was reason enough to be barred from any shop, Agnes interjected: "Just listen to her Fiona, Cecilia really is very choosy about who she takes as clients." The really annoying thing was: There was a definite, but unspoken, 'For once,' preceding Agnes interruption of my tirade on the general character of the English, their flag and the collection of inbred, genetically defective free-loaders they laughingly called a royal family. I mean, jeez, she hardly knew me and she was already talking like she'd said a million zillion times: "For once, just listen Fiona..." Rogers' Fabric Boutique As we entered the shop, as if by magic, Miss Rodgers appeared from a stockroom: With the exemplar type looks of a model, and her long brunette hair tied in a pony tail, she looked to be in her mid twenties. Dressed in a blouse and a peasant skirt, she was also wearing a lab coat with dozens of pockets holding what looked to me like devisor-tech. I had been told, that because of her mutation, much like the way a hydro- kinetic has control of water, she had complete control of fabric right down to the molecular level. She supplemented this ability with the use of devises and magical enchantments. With these tools and her basic power set, she could create almost any outfit in minutes, and with clients flying in from all over the world to have the prestige of owning just one of her outfits, she was widely considered to be the best couturist on the planet. Things got off to a bad start when she introduced herself by saying: "My aren't you quite the loveliest creature, we really must get you enrolled in the Ballroom Dancing class." Spluttering... My indignation at once again being referred to as a 'creature', was choked off by a final gasp of indignation from my old male self when I fleetingly fantasised about being twirled around a dance floor by some overly muscled adonis. Seeing the questioning looks at my thunderously rising fury, I was about to let blast a blistering retort when my mum intruded: Having a target for my rage that wouldn't be mortally offended, I let rip: How can you have a fair argument with your mum when she's inside your head? I didn't really get a chance to reply though, she unfairly hit me with logic: