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"The Agency: Meeting of Souls "Written By: Karina Pairings 13x6 [eventual], 5xS, 3x4, Others undecided at this time. Warnings: Extreme Alternate Universe setting. Unbetaed, Aussie spelling and grammar, not much else in the early chapters though it will involve murder, stalking and possibly some colourful language down the track. Some Out Of Character depictions are unavoidable considering the alternate universe setting. Rating: M [In Australia that would be mature adult 15+] Not sure with the new rating system about international ratings. Rated for violence and language and adult concepts. Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. That's about as plain as you could say it. Summary: The world took a very different turn with the acknowledgement of psychic abilities and training of select psychic individuals enlisted in elite fields such as law enforcement and politics. A grading system for the strength of psionic abilities was developed and those who were the top of the elite have been dubbed Prime Talents and are highly sought after. Elite institutions have been developed to mark, train and employ individuals with useable psionic talents. The colonies of canon Gundam Wing do exist in this fic and were constructed before the psionic system was founded. With the advent of psionics in open use in society younger people are appearing in positions of power as they are awakening to their abilities earlier and are highly trained in their fields of expertise. Archive: Gundam Wing Universe [gundam-wing-universe.net]
//…// Thoughts
Chapter 44 It was an undeniable fact of life that sometimes life changed with little, if any, warning. The more warning one had of coming changes, the more one could prepare oneself for the initial impact and the less said impact generally was. This time, with this change, there had been no warning, no opportunity, no chance of preparing for the effects of the event. It was no small change and it was a change that was monumental, twisting the shape of the remaining days of his life. He determined, in those all important minutes of decision making, that the proposed change would be for the better and thus he had taken that significant first step. Suddenly, impossibly, the predestined path his feet had been set upon was torn, ripped apart... and he was overjoyed. Ecstatic. When he had been assigned to meet the elderly lady in the old cafe district of New Port City, he had not an inkling of an idea that within twenty four hours that self same venerable old woman would change so much. How could he have entertained the notion that, because of her appearance in the city, because of who she was, the force of her personality, the fire in her heart... Because of HER he, and a few select others of the Cousins, had been given the opportunity to venture beyond Sanc's borders. He and many of his Cousins had wanted to test the freedoms and limits of the outside world. It was a closely guarded dream to entertain notions of living beyond the strictures of his life in Sanc. A dream only, because neither his family nor the King would ever permit such a thing. His life, the Cousin's lives, were painstakingly crafted to fit the role designated for them at birth. His role, he admitted, in his case at least, he had enjoyed and was one he was well suited to, but there had still been a longing to escape the path designated and his feet had been set upon the instant he had been conceived a Peacecraft Cousin. Escape from the careful planning of his life had not seemed possible, yet, suddenly, here he was, beyond Sanc's borders. Remarkably he stood here with the blessing of his family and the King, even if that blessing had been grudgingly given. He had miraculously escaped what he had been groomed to be since childhood. He admitted, because to face this future beyond Sanc he had to be brutally honest with himself, that he had regrets about abandoning that life. He had enjoyed his position beneath the King and Queen's eye; a favoured retainer, but despite the prestige and perks of such a position there had been something lacking. For all of the privileges, for all of the chances they had given him to succeed with his life, something had not quite sat right with him. He did not feel that regret now. There were some minor regrets, yes, he was only human and to be human meant there were always regrets. He would miss certain members of his family, and he had had friends back in Sanc whom he might never see again. But it was not as though he could not return to Sanc in the future. None of his regrets, on reflection, were great enough to hold him to Sanc when given the opportunity to leave. Gabriella had freed him. He had been informed of the position he would hold should he measure up to expectations before he had turned five years of age. He had not fought it, one did not fight against the will of the Family and, more importantly, the will of the King. Being born a Cousin of the Blood one learned one's place as one grew from infancy to adult. Eyes were never NOT watching, and transgressions were pointed out on a daily basis until one learned what was acceptable behaviour. Standards, and they were high standards, were required to be met. The plan that had been agreed upon in his infancy must be understood and followed, and obedience and excellence was demanded. It was simply the way one grew up when one was a Cousin to the Peacecraft monarchy. He had, of course, known there was more to life. Out there, in the greater world. People who lived that life did not have lives that revolved around the expectations of family and sovereign. He had been curious about it, but he had learned early in his tutorial sessions beneath teachers appointed by his family, and personally approved by the Peacecraft Patriarch, not to pursue what would not compliment his future position and the prestige of the family. Each stage of his life had been set out in a neatly ordered, stringently organised, and very well documented plan. He had been guided with a firm hand, not always the gentlest of firm hands either, to follow that blueprint. It was expected that he excel, and excel he had. Praise was given where praise was due and likewise criticism. One learned when one was a Cousin. One could do little else but learn. The one time he had gone beyond the borders of Sanc was for his Psi official certification. He had been accompanied for those few months by a hand picked escort, and he was within their sight every minute of every day. Despite the watchdogs dancing attendance, that time away from Sanc had been a glimpse of something so different to the world he knew, that his curiosity had been further ignited. He had been unable to hide it and his escort/chaperones had been quick to stifle any expressed desire to know more, which only sharpened his interest in the rest of the world. Within an hour's passing of the completion of his certification he had found himself on a plane returning to Sanc, to be congratulated and a work schedule placed in his hand. A schedule which had placed him beneath Pagan, and within clear sight of the eyes of the King and Queen. They were hot house flowers, carefully reared, segregated from the rest of the world, intended to be known by a few and to never know the freedom of an unguarded wind. He should have been honoured by the attention paid to him, and he had been honoured. Truthfully he had felt satisfaction at the praise and elevation of his status within the family, and he had performed to the best of his abilities, making a name for himself. His family had accepted the accolades of their peers for rearing one who was so useful and a benefit to the Court. He had been honoured... because it was expected of him and that was what he had been trained to do. To be. How then had it all changed overnight? The unexpected arrival of his so many times removed grandmother could surely be likened to a force of nature. She was a volcanic explosion that had torn a gaping hole in the mountain that was the Peacecraft monarchy and bled lava still, despite her departure. He had no idea what it was she had said or done, but the Queen's pique was more than noticeable and the King... Well, he was rather glad he would be spared working within the palace hierarchy whilst the storm still raged. She had shaken even the indomitable Pagan, and for him, personally, it had been like the sudden coming of the first breath of fresh autumn air after the hottest, most stifling of summer days. She was relentless, forceful, but she had used none of that power of personality she contained to influence his decision, or the decisions of his cousins. He doubted Sanc would recover from her whirlwind visit for months, if not years. It was probably just as well she did not visit on a regular basis, given the tempests that seem to rage unfettered when she favoured the family with her presence. In the brief time he had spoken to her, both when he had escorted her to the palace the day before and in the early hours of the morning when she had made her offer, he had come to respect her. Not as a Prime talent, but as a person with the ability to see beyond surface layers to the depths beneath, and for having the fortitude to fight for what she considered to be `right'. She was a dynamo, one of the rarest of special people with the capacity to shake the world around them with each breath they breathed. In less than a day she had arrived, upset the King and Queen, fronted a number of the highest ranking of the noble, political and merchant families, and charmed a group of the best and brightest of the young bloods. Of which he was one. He was not the only one of the Cousins called to an interview with her, to be only too happy to be charmed by her and to listen to her proposal. And to jump feet first at the chance she offered. He knew, though nothing had been said in his hearing, that she would not leave his younger Cousins to the fate designated for them by their families without manipulating strings to offer them something more in the future. Like him, like the others with him, they too would be offered an escape from the destiny expected of the Cousins of the Blood. Gabriella was a master manipulator. He could never hope, even in his wildest fantasies, to have half of the skills she displayed when handling people in prominent positions. If she would allow him to work with her personally, as he hoped to convince her to permit, he hoped to learn as much from her as he could. He was no Prime level talent, he was nothing special at all in the grand scheme of things, but he felt alive when in her presence. Her energy seemed endless, those dark eyes spat fire, but those same eyes could mellow into something gentle that he knew few people were ever fortunate enough to witness. He felt supremely honoured to have been one of those favoured few to have witnessed the gentler side of the indomitable Gabriella. No one had ever made such an instant impression on him before her. She had matters, important affairs, that she was required to attend to. Duties that, from what he had discovered before they departed Sanc, involved a serious crime. Murder, the whispers had suggested, and the involvement of another Prime Talent in her specialist field. She was, perhaps, the Premier Psychic of their society, a busy and important person who perpetually would have a tight schedule, but she travelled with them to the hotel she had designated they would temporarily reside in. They had been assured it was psi shielded, for their comfort, and she had, somehow, managed to have a series of suites flanking her own suite designated for their use. He was learning quickly that whatever needs Gabriella had were met with alacrity. No one argued with her that he knew of, and actually expected to win the argument. If she wished to claim the entire top floor of the world's most expensive hotel with no warning, then undoubtedly provision would cheerfully...or perhaps fearfully?... be made for her desire. Not that this was the world's most expensive and exclusive hotel, but it was certainly high on the elite scale. How long they would be resident here he did not know, but no one could claim they would lack for comfort. He could not quite stop himself from hovering protectively near her. She was tiny! Her diminutive size woke every protective instinct in him; they were trained to protect kith and kin. He could not NOT feel the need to hover protectively. Not only was she kin, she was his grandmother, if a few generations removed and his training was all about protecting those weaker than oneself. Not that you could call this particular grandmother `weak'. Physically she was short in stature, but her advanced age had not at all bent her spine into a stoop. She stood tall, erect, proud, even though her `tall' barely reached mid chest on him. But it was not her physical size that made an impression on people. The force of her personality gave her inches in presence, making it a surprise when you stood close to her and realised just how small she was. How she had lived to the age she was... and no one seemed quite to know exactly how old that was, but she was well past her centenary and then some. At a rough calculation, and he admitted there would be errors because he knew little of her younger years, he estimated her to be somewhere around one hundred and thirty... ish. With particular and possibly grand emphasis on the `ish'. He suspected that some complex and extremely expensive genetic treatments kept her in the game, because she had to be the oldest person on the planet by now who was not in a near vegetative state. Despite her venerable years there was nothing frail or fragile about her, either physically or mentally. She was a force of nature, a force mere humans could never contest against once she determined she needed to interfere. It was a good feeling, comforting, to know that she noticed you. It was comforting when those dark eyes looked at you and you could `feel' it, the protection of being within her awareness. Gabriella herself had personally escorted them to the suites assigned to them, and he was pleased his designated rooms were adjacent to her own. He was fascinated by her; by her somewhat quirky charm, by the contrasts of temperament that made her Gabriella. It was a life changing event that she had noticed him and called for him to follow her. He was quite certain he would follow her wherever she might lead, and that he would smile every step of the way, regardless of how rocky that way might prove to be. He had no doubt she would be there, watching him, protecting him, just as he wished to watch protectively over her. It was frightening when he thought about it. He had never taken to anyone quite as he had taken to Gabriella, and never had he warmed up to anyone so quickly. "Grandmother?" He followed her to the door of his suite, he being the last to be placed and settled, and after looking around at the luxury that frankly exceeded his family's manor house, he found himself unwilling to let her go. There was an itch deep within that drove him to want more of her company. It was not that he wanted to continue to be noticed by her, but more that he desired to be given a purpose by her. "What is it you are needing Gabriella for?" The woman paused in the open door, head tilted slightly to one side, dark eyes seeming to know what it was he wanted, why he wanted it, before he even opened his mouth. "You will require an Aide, won't you?" He dare not be hesitant when speaking with her; plain and straightforward speaking was best with Gabriella. "I know you have high level work ahead of you, and I do not mean to interfere or distract you, but you... You should have an attendant and I have seen no one who is an obvious Monitor in your company." There, he had opened the door and what came through it remained to be seen. He had made an allusion to the rules she herself had helped to instigate into law governing the work of high level Psi's. He was probably displaying a frightening level of cheek, but he knew deep within him that this woman preferred the straight forward, no dancing around approach. Gabriella did not strike him as one who bandied niceties when plain speaking could produce much more straightforward and immediate results. A dark eyebrow peppered with grey arched high. "Offering are you?" No outright refusal, that was a start. "If you would have me. I have been trained to monitor and I am certified." She would know his skills, his certifications, strengths and weaknesses. This was Gabriella who left nothing to chance he was dealing with. She would know the file on every one of the grandchildren she had taken out of Sanc. If she permitted him to be, he would be there for her in all things. "Gabriella is wondering what else it is being trained for you have been. Tired you are not?" Those dark eyes bored deep into him, judging, evaluating. He would not weaken in the face of her scrutiny, and to be honest he was not actually tired. He was too alive, too keyed up with the knowledge that he was beyond the borders of Sanc and unattended by his family's chaperones. It made him restless. Made him want to fidget. His mother complained of his fidgeting and his father... Well, his father was the source from which he had inherited the habit from. "No, Ma'am, I am not tired. To be honest I am hyped up and I need a distraction. Something to settle me down and give me a focus." It might have been a mistake to be that honest, but he would not lie. Not to this woman. She was someone who would be very important to him, he knew it deep in his bones, and he had to be honest with her. He had been blessed with her attention, now he would work to gain her trust. "What of Kindred Cousins, coming here with you did? Leaving them a bother it would be, yes?" He almost, almost, snorted at that. He knew what his family, their families, and the King would have told her, attempting to dissuade her from taking them away from Sanc. The Cousins needed the proximity of Cousins, they would have said, spouting it like a mantra. It had been stressed to him, to them all, from infancy that they needed each other. That they belonged together, living and working as a unit, and that they were less capable of performing adequately as a solitary entity. Basically their training from birth was designed to make them physically dependent on the proximity of their shared blood lines. They had been conditioned to need the constant presence of others in their families to flourish. "If you will forgive my plain speaking, Grandmother, but that crock of bull about us needing other Cousins in close proximity is just that, a crock full of bull shit. Despite their best efforts to make us dependant on each other, we are quite capable of functioning away from other key Cousins. It is more a stressed education program reinforced with psi conditioning than any real physical or psychological tie. It is just a means they use to keep us watching each other, to ensure that we are aware of our place in the hierarchy." He was gratified with the smile his honesty earned him. "And glad Gabriella is to be knowing understanding their means of control you are. Conditioning from infancy, this Gabriella was concerned about. Talk we must about this conditioning, so break the ties for all without distress we can do. Knowing you who it might be who came with Gabriella, might be affected to distress by this control?" She believed him. He had half been afraid that she would not, but he had hoped she would. What she thought about how they were reared he dared not think, but he suspected she would have a few things to say in the future about the tradition of using Psi influence to control them. But it was something that had been happening in Sanc for centuries, long before anyone understood just what `psychic potential' in all of its various forms, actually meant. For him the conditioning would not be a problem, he was sure, as he had found that quite a lot of those key cousins annoyed him to no end, upped by their own `purity' of bloodline. They were trained to be pains in the neck as far as he could see, and they were more of a slave to the conditioning that the `lesser' Cousins, of which he, admittedly, was not. He had stronger blood ties to the Royal Family than a lot of the Cousins who claimed a higher position in the Court than he. "Perhaps the youngest of us might be affected to some degree, though I doubt it will bother her for long. We will be there for her, if and when she needs us. We can live with it, the close proximity of others of the bloodline, but we are quite capable of living without them, particularly as we grow older and leave the education system. It certainly does not affect how we perform in our trained duties." "Pleased Gabriella is to hear this. Much talking will we be doing, when Gabriella settles matters of a most disagreeable and distressing nature. Expected to remain within these suites you are not. Designating chaperones Gabriella will be, to act as guides to grandchildren about the hotel and city. Sight see, shop, these things are good for young people cooped up too long to do, and chaperones will have credit chips for everyone, soon as Gabriella makes arrangements. Busy Gabriella will be, this is unfortunate but true, but expecting everyone for evening meal together Gabriella is. Take time to realise free from Sanc you be. Take time to think on where you go, what it is to be doing you are wishing. Much talking we will do. Much talking." Ah. Well, he was not surprised. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. Accompanying her was not to be. He had hoped to spend more time with her, to actually work with, for, her but he could understand that she had her serious and grave duties to perform. He had hoped to be of help in the performance of those duties, but he would never dream of delaying her, or interfering. She was the incomparable Gabriella and she did not need him to dance attendance on her, though he honestly wished she would permit it. He supposed they were expected to rest a little after the early hour their day started, and then set out to explore the hotel and venture into the city. Find amusements, sight see, perhaps do some shopping. Chaperones. Bodyguard, a small voice whispered, but that would not be so bad in a new city. At least they would not get lost, and who knew what kind of perverts inhabited a city the size of this? He had never really learned how to shop, so a bit of company from a more knowledgeable body might be just the thing. He would have to learn to do more than simply shop for himself now that he was beyond Sanc. Every material need had been met as they had grown. Their only concern was with preparing themselves to serve the Crown and the advancement of their respective family. Their whole lives had been geared to prepare to serve others, and it just seemed `off' to have time weighing on his hands. "Gabriella must take time to understand needs and desires. Need to understand, Gabriella does, your needs and ambitions. Expecting all to excel, Gabriella is, away from where family expectation directs children. Expectation of excellence Gabriella has, for each of you, but Sanc Gabriella is not. No binding chains, no direct missive demanding obligation and obedience. This matter discussing we will be. Long talks having we will, where going we will be in future." "We are extremely grateful for the opportunity you have given us. It is... quite liberating... to be free of Sanc. We were never unhappy there, understand that, but we... It was... " He was not quite sure exactly what it was he was trying to say, but the old lady before him beamed a smile that suddenly made him understand that she understood. What it was he was trying to say, what was so clear to him though he could not put it into words, she actually understood without him having to find the words that just would not clearly explain the concept. She was a legend in the family and to Psi's everywhere. She had come for them, taken them away from a destiny set by their families, and she could teach them so much. About life. About their psychic ability. About living. Why were they so comfortable with her? He, and he knew his cousins too, had never met her before this surprise visit to Sanc, but they had warmed up to her instantly and they had known what they wanted to do. Go with her. It seemed to him that his blood had screamed those three words when he had been called to an audience with the King during the small hours of the morning. Go with her. "Wanting you to meet someone Gabriella is. Expecting eyebrows to fly off head when meet him you do, and asking Gabriella is that you not visibly react. Gabriella is asking for no questions, explaining at later time will be. This can you do?" His eyes widened a little at the look in her dark eyes, at the suggestion that he might be trusted with something that was sensitive by her so soon. Words failed him, but he was accustomed to strange requests from people in power. He knew when to nod decisively and keep his mouth shut, unless specific answers were required. A great deal of his work at the palace for Pagan had required he watch, listen and keep silent. "Good. Gabriella's Aide, for now this you will be. If Gabriella does not enjoy cup of coffee soon, then cranky old woman Gabriella will be. Learn you will how Gabriella likes her coffee... And learn to make it you will too." The door swung open behind her and she half turned toward it before looking back at him. "Well? Coming are you?" ———————- The shade caused a chill to run the course of her spine as she strode across the road. From bright, sunny and warm to a shaded drop in temperature that could, if she lingered in the shadow, chill her to the bone with its unseasonable embrace. Unseasonable? Wait, shadow? Blinking Noin stopped on the edge of the curb, fighting the growing irritation with the irascible weather. She had been enjoying the warmth of the summer day and stepping into the shade of the building had come as a nasty shock... She had the sun behind her, so how could she be standing in shade? Closing her eyes Noin dipped her head and breathed deeply, steadying herself, letting the air out slowly, inhaling in a measured pace, exhaling... Clearing her perceptions was second nature to an elite psychic and forewarned was forearmed. There was something wrong. She could feel it, though not see it. When she opened her eyes and really looked around her, the day was as bright and sunny as she had expected it to be, but allowing her psychic filter to enfold her revealed another scene entirely. A spreading darkness, shadow like, almost a mist hanging in the air. Reaching out lazy tendrils to her. Stifling a startled breath she took a measured half step back, taking note of the phenomena as she paced slowly backwards. Two steps. Three. Four... And she was clear of the lightest, most insubstantial wisps of the mist, her toes mere inches from the miasma oozing from... somewhere... ahead of her. Dark smoke, she might have called it. Drifting lazily, as though no wind stirred it, riding the most minute eddies of air. She knew it would be almost unmoving, even should a gale be blowing. It was non physical, invisible to the unassisted human eye. Focusing her psychic talent to `see' what her eyes alone could not detect, despite every inch of her physical body reacting to it. Her instinct had been... not so much fear. Not initially, at least, but definitely inclining towards it. Wary, alert... Aware. Yes, aware. As soon as she had crossed into its field of influence her unique sensitivity had warned her, instinctively triggering the beginnings of the `fight or flight' survival reflex. There was nothing visibly `there' to the physical human eye, but to her mental eye, as she watched, alerted to its presence now, she could `see' it's tendrils, wisps of `smoke' like mist. Darkening. Thickening being fed from wisps further away from her with agonising slowness. It was an ominous sight. It was... nothing living even as it thickened, growing stronger the longer she stood watching it. Gray smoky tendrils reaching out from a darker gray band giving way to a dark, thickening mist of... "Ah. No. No, not good." A certain level of empathy was required to contact the spirits of those who had shed the mortal world. It was a different kind of empathy to the empathy required to contact and interact with living human emotion. Similar, kin to the other, but subtly different. A high level, Prime level, empath walking into this... Oh yes, she could understand why a Prime T/E Talent went down if he walked into this... But he had been at the crime scene, standing in the alley she had not even reached yet from the report she had read. She was standing on the edge of the road, still a good ten metres down the street away from the cordoned off entrance to the alleyway. "Prime Noin? Is there a problem?" Her driver, whom she had left on the other side of the street in the parking bay, was crossing the road now, almost at a run, dodging traffic. Glancing at her Noin noted that her eyes were narrowed, the woman's attention focused on her. Her escort was an empath, a low level talent registering at a little over two on the scale, and she slowed as she neared Noin, the traffic falling away to allow her to walk the rest of the way. She would be tightly shielded having been warned that a higher level empath had had a bad experience in the area, but even so Noin noticed the uneasy glances she began to cast around. Her eyes drifted around the immediate area, looking warily about her. Her fingers began to twitch as she stepped off the curb and took a stride past Noin before the Medium could stop her. There it was, the exact same thing that had accosted Noin. That abrupt stop, the shiver as she looked around with narrowed eyes, her face turning up toward the sun. She began to rub her bare arms lightly and Noin could see goosebumps forming on her flesh. Her eyes cast quick looks about her, never stilling, and she seemed to lift slightly, pushing her balance more onto the balls of her feet; as though she was ready to run at a moment's notice. Survival instinct. Flight or fight reflex initiating. Her eyes shifted about their surroundings but repeatedly came to rest on the dark mouth of the alley ahead of them. The crime scene. It was no surprise to Noin when the woman stepped back, away from the alley, a quick step to perch her on the edge of the curb, another to put her beside Noin, close to the Prime. A breach of protocol for a high level psychic, but Noin could understand the herd instinct to crowd together when faced with danger. Then that look around her as though she had realised a weight had lifted from her. She was clear of the tendrils. "I... What?" "It's alright. We... have a problem." An understatement on her part, Noin reflected, but it was an honest answer. They did have a problem. Potentially a large problem. Her escorts reaction proved that it was not just Noin who could feel the miasma of dark emotion oozing from the alley, and that it was not Noin's imagination fed by tales of murder inciting visions of the dead. And that disagreeable emotional soup was spreading. Slowly to be certain, but relentlessly. It had birthed in the alley and, overnight and through little more than half a day, it had filled the alley and escaped it. Taking her companion's arm, another breach of protocol given the woman was an empath and Noin's own talents, she led the way back across the road. Dodging traffic, she was thankful that this was a quiet, out of the way part of the city, and the traffic was light enough to allow them to cross in reasonable safety. Back at the car she leaned against the bonnet of the vehicle and stared long and hard at the scene. There were other people on the street, walking, talking, laughing, squabbling... generally minding their own business. Taking her time, studying each individual, she tracked a few as they approached the affected area. Marking their physical reactions from first noticing them to when they entered the affected area in the vicinity of the alley. Some few pedestrians came from within the buildings flanking the alley and Noin was quick to note that a large proportion of those individuals looked anything but happy. Not uncommon in this run-down district, but largely the proportions seemed wrong to her. Of those who came from beyond the affected area there was a visibly broader emotional range in evidence. They were more animated, faces showing lighter degrees of emotion and their aura's were `lighter', reflecting more positive moods. Those pedestrians who entered the miasma and walked through the area, skirting the taped off entrance to the alley and continued on fell conspicuously quiet. Within two steps into the miasma the changes began and Noin pursed her lips, considering. Ten metres in less than twenty four hours. In that time it had gathered, grown, expanded and was strong enough to affect those who walked through. None of them lingered, all of them moving quickly though none of them ran. And whilst their moods lifted after exiting the affected area she noted none of them quite had the same state of mood as when they had entered the area. They lifted emotionally, yes, but there was a lingering effect. It was a psychic phenomena and physical obstructions were not proof against psychic emanations. Those who lived within the affected area would be experiencing constant negativity. Of course it might be explained that the people of the area were reacting to the two uniformed police agents standing at the entrance to the taped off alley. Might be, but Noin did not think so, not after entering the zone herself. It was not the presence of the law that was affecting people, particularly those resident in the adjacent area. As she watched she noted little wisps of the miasma break off and seemed to disappear and that was another concern. Such negativity never simply dissipated. It was enough to pollute the very air that was breathed and these people had been breathing it for hours. The whole area, what she could see of it - and now that she took the time to really study the people here, did they look subdued? Was it her imagination, fired by what she could see and they could not, making her think the area was too quiet? Was she misinterpreting odd little looks as anxious glances cast about them? Were people surreptitiously looking for something they could not see or name, only feel? You did not require a levelled empathic rating to feel what was oozing out of that alley. All you had to do was be alive and human... Ah, perhaps not with the human. There was a notable lack of animals in the area. No birds squabbling over scraps, no stray cats or dogs. She watched a woman with a dog the size of a toy poodle, a poor ragged looking animal. The dog refused to walk, hanging back, pulling against the rope tied to it, whining, cringing, wriggling its backside as far away from the alley as the lead allowed. As she watched the woman grumbled, picked up the dog and marched through the area, ignoring the dogs cringing and whining. "Damn." Whatever had happened in the alley, and whilst she knew it was murder she did not know the exact details; no one did! Whatever the source of the trauma that had given birth to this emotional poison was, it would have to be exorcised. The psychic ether had to be cleansed or else the poison would grow to further pollute the general atmosphere and ordinary people... how she hated that description!... would feel its effects. Those unfortunates who lived in the affected area would experience their attitude souring. They would be prone to sudden depressions, unexplained and sudden instances of rage and hopelessness. As the miasma spread and grew in strength, those within the affected area would become very different people to their normal selves. This poison needed to be cleansed before the city experienced a rash of petty crime that would grow exponentially in seriousness and frequency. Instances of self inflicted violence would increase to include bouts of public violence involving more and more people. A verbal spat would grow into a brawl between two individuals and spark a riot that might involve a quarter of the citizens of the city. As the dark emotions of the citizens grew it would feed depression and grow with each new round of violence, and those volatile emotions would feed back into the core root of the trouble. It would become a self feeding, ever expanding cycle of destruction. Emotional at first and then physical. Une had explained the theory that they were hunting a potential super psychic who was losing control of his abilities, and after experiencing this... Noin was very much afraid that, whoever the high talent psi might be, that he was already a lost cause. Did people honestly have no sense? Chemical induced psychic abilities? Such talents were likely to be wildly erratic in nature, and the individual would be a powder keg waiting to explode. The smallest spark might ignite a firestorm they could well do without. In fact, the spark might already have been lit and the firestorm might well be smouldering before her now. Was this individual under the regular monitoring of a specific, and knowledgeable, psi technician? She could hope so, but no, she could not believe such was the case. It would be a dirty, underhanded underground operation. Underground illegal use of drugs, uncontrolled, unmonitored. A disaster waiting to happen, and it looked like they were going to have to do the clean up of what was surely not going to be the last messy incident based in these illegal drugs. She supposed that she, more than anyone else, was familiar with the work of the illegal drugs pushers and, worse, the chemical factories using street kids and criminal organisations to test their latest chemical cocktails. She had encountered more than a few shades in recent times whose deaths had been the result of chemical experimentation gone wrong. Hers was rarely a pretty job, this speaking with the dead as practised by Noin and the few others with like talent and hard as nails guts. She had chosen to specialise in dealing with traumatic death, generally murders, and some days she wondered why she had taken this road. It was predominately a thankless task. The investigators of the crime did not like `tea leaf readers' interfering with their investigation. The dead rarely ever said thank you, quite often they cursed you, and the living... Well, the living were less likely to thank you, and if they did it would be months after the case was settled. Daily dealing with the aftermath of traumatic death was not where she had envisioned herself being in her childhood, but it was what she did now. And she was good at dealing with it. Trauma placed people in conditions that were far less than their best, and people who were traumatised were rarely kind...to themselves or to strangers who desired only to help. The violently dead were too often lost, not understanding what had occurred to them. They did not deal well with no one seeing them, or speaking to them. It was nice, if a blatant shock to the system, when someone, alive or dead, actually thanked her for her assistance after a case. Not common, but nice. One needed a thick skin to go with a cast iron gut to stand where she stood. This murder victim, a young man who had died in a horrendous manner in the alley across the road, was going to be one of the worst sessions she had ever been required to deal with. She could feel it from this distance and, though slowly, it was growing stronger to her sensitive talent; riding on the wave of that unknown killer's out of control ability. The victim's trauma, his left over emotions, were being amplified, generated over and over again in a never ending cycle. The killer had to be a broadcasting empath, and a ridiculously strong one. The man was a killer, whether he intended to kill initially or not. Facts were facts, no matter how you looked at them, and when you dealt with the untimely dead they were generally not interested in holding your hand or you comforting them. They did not generally weep at the unfairness of it all on your shoulder. They could be angry, defensive, emotionally volatile. An angry shade was not so discriminating about where, or against whom, it lashed out. Not to say that the dead were psychopathic killers themselves. Far from it. They were traumatised victims and just like traumatised living individuals they needed a psychiatrist. Not that she considered herself a shrink, but that basically was what her job description entailed. The rarest cases dealt with extremely emotional individuals who affected the physical area around them. Aware of it as she was now, she did not need to be so close to detect the aura. Sampling the emanations was best done with minute instances of exposure. She did not need to be `hands on', though sometimes it helped with connecting with the dead to clarify detail. Now though touch was not required, just minute psychic touches to sample the atmosphere; to try to determine exactly what the makeup of it was. Samples of this, for want of a better word, miasma, would help them determine the effects on the citizens affected by it, but how best they might deal with it. Sampling it was necessary, determining what it exactly consisted of... Individuals would manifest some, perhaps a few would manifest all, of the emotions that made up its total content. As time went on it would gain more emotions fed by other contributors. Anger. Such all encompassing anger. Despair. Desire. Ah, there was blatant sexual predation in the mix. Lust, unbridled. They would need to get this contained as quickly as possible. Pain. Such incredible layers of pain! Fear. Swirling, oozing, all encompassing. Fear culminating in blatant terror. Loneliness. Misunderstanding. Segregation... Always the odd man out. Hate-fear-pain-resentment-pain-fear-need to run. Need to be understood, to be wanted, to be loved... Not just the victim's emotions existed within that miasma. There were more than a few contributions from the killer. An individual had a distinct psychic flavour, unique to that one person only, and she could tap two distinct individuals. She might, in the exorcising of this disaster waiting to happen, be able to work a profile out of the killer if she could successfully determine which degree of emotion could be attributed to the victim and respectively to his killer. Such a lot of the emotions were experienced by both individuals. It was a mess. She was doubtful that one single session would be sufficient to contain and then peacefully settle the dead. There was no doubt in her mind that the shade of the victim still occupied that alley. He existed there, locked in a cycle of reliving what she suspected had been an unhappy life compounded by being the victim of a particularly brutal murder. His life would not have been a shining example to others, and the city authorities would want the matter dealt with expediently; they would not be interested in settling the shade, simply in eradicating the miasma. But she intended to comfort this victim, to settle him and have him find peace. No one deserved to die as he had. It would be no quick fix, no simple walk in, have a chat to the dead and walk out, having convinced the shade to go forward. In a rural setting this pollution of the psychic ether that grew exponentially, would affect less people. It would be contained easier because of the lower population. If they delayed in getting a task force together then, by her estimation, within a week's passing it would have a strong foothold in this quarter of the city. And she might never be able to deal with the shade at the core of it. It would grow stronger hourly, the population would become infected by it, becoming infused with depression and unreasoning anger fed by the miasma. Depression would quickly become anger, anger would become violence, fed by sexual undertones. There would be domestic violence on an increasing scale, instances of rape, child abuse, self inflicted harm. The crime rate would rise and become increasingly more violent. Violent crimes would culminate in more and more violent murders. And there would be rioting in the streets. It would be an ever increasing cycle of mayhem, spreading with increasing speed and, unchecked, it would overtake the city. She could not allow it. All she had to do was convince the appropriate authorities that the equation was simple, straight forward and undeniable. Oh yes. So easy. As easy as snapping her fingers. She was quite good at being sarcastic when she did not have to deal with authority figures. Turning to her escort who stood behind her and whose eyes were still focused on the alley and the two law enforcement officers who appeared to be having a less than congenial argument, thankfully verbal only, she drew the woman closer to the car. "I need you to contact Une. We have a problem and it has to be dealt with before it can no longer be contained." Dark blue eyes flickered from the alley to her and back again. "I can feel it. I couldn't before when we stood here, but I can now." "Yes, I am sure you can, and unfortunately so can everyone around us with any degree of empathy who has the misfortune to walk into it. And it will only get worse." The young woman shuddered, and Noin knew she was pushing everything she had been taught into strengthening her mental barriers. "I will place the call." She waited, her eyes on the alley whilst she continued to sample the miasma. It was increasing, not in a rising all consuming tidal wave, thankfully, but in a creeping, steady seepage. She doubted anyone would be able to make it all the way to the actual crime scene, to where the young man had been killed. It would be so thick there it would be next to impossible to breathe. If it had been riding a rising wave then there would be little she could do to control the flow, but this was a seepage and as such it gave her possibilities. If they moved quickly enough, and with the assistance of the Psychic community, then they might be able to protect the bulk of the city until she could manage the task of releasing the victim. If they moved quickly enough and if bureaucracy... Well, bureaucrats were never renowned for moving quickly. "Ma'am. Commander Une is on the line." Une was not an easy woman to deal with at the best of times, and the woman was under a great deal of pressure at this point in time, but there was no help for it. Taking a deep breath Noin walked around the car, taking a seat within it and closed the door, winding up the window. It was an ineffective symbol of protection, of closing out the miasma which was not at all a physical force. It defied physical barriers, but the symbology was enough for now. Taking the head set from the agent Noin settled back in her seat and was thankful she was not standing before the woman. Une would not be happy about her recommendation. "Noin? What the hell is going on? I didn't expect to hear from you for a few hours. What is so urgent?" "We have a problem." Where to begin? How to start? How to stress the implications without sounding... Well... Weird? God, they were professionals and she was worrying about sounding like a child frightened by a nightmare! "Where are you?" "I'm at the car parked across from the alley where your murder took place. We have a... a site contamination in effect." There was a brief pause in which she could almost hear the woman's thoughts grinding over her choice of words. Site contamination was the most appropriate term she could think of, given the circumstances. "What do you mean, a site contamination? The police assured me they have the alley sealed off." Une did not sound happy, no surprise there, but she had not understood. No surprise there either. "They do. Yellow, black and white striped tape with two officer's standing duty. Two `unhappy' officers." She placed emphasis on the `unhappy'. Une snorted. "Sucks to love your job, right? I can sympathise. So? I should be concerned two cops are sniping at each other, why?" Noin winced. She was rather thankful she did not work full time under Anne Une. The woman could be a royal bitch when she wanted to be, she had known that before she had accepted the job. The woman had a reputation for not suffering fools easily. "What I mean is that the `scene of the murder' is `contaminating' the surrounding area." Placing her emphasis carefully she hoped to get through to the woman that this was more than tired, irritable officers. A longer pause this time, and she could almost see the woman rising from her seat and moving to the huge picture window overlooking the city. It was a nice view from that window, offering a panorama of the cityscape. Une looked out of it quite a lot. "What do you mean by that exactly?" The hushed tone of the question gratified her, the woman was beginning to realise they had a problem. "I mean what I said. The psychic ether in the surrounding area from the scene of the murder has mutated. It is growing, evolving, due to the lingering presence of a very unhappy, angry, lost soul; who I think is reliving every bad thing that ever happened to him, culminating in his murder, on an ever repeating loop. I'm not sure he even really realises what happened to him. Every culmination of the playing loop begins another cycle, pushing all that bad mojo out into the ether to accumulate and spread wider as it grows. Before I can go in there and deal with him, which it will not be possible to do in one single session, I assure you, we will have to deal with the leakage." A tired sigh and Noin thought she could detect a hesitation in there. It took a couple of minutes before Une responded to her verbally, a couple of minutes in which she was sure the woman cursed her and the situation fluently. "Noin, you are not making my day any easier. The victim is throwing a temper tantrum and you want me to... What? How bad is it?" So much for Une having empathy for a victim of a violent crime. "He's not throwing a temper tantrum, far from it. It's a negative energy feedback... Or rather, a negative empathic feedback would be a more appropriate description. It's growing, generating from itself, feeding from itself. People who pass by the area are being affected, in a localised area at the moment, thankfully. We need to keep it that way, which won't be easy I will admit. It will involve the cooperation of a large number of people, specifically empaths and telepaths. I suggest a perimeter be set up and the area within the perimeter needs to be evacuated of all non-essential personnel. The residents in the area, every bum in every alley and gutter, every hooker under every street lamp, every squatter needs to be rounded up and moved out with the actual registered residents of the area. They all have to be evacuated so that we can work safely." "God, woman! Are you sane? As if this day was not bad enough..." she sighed heavily, "How big an area are you talking about?' Noin considered what she knew of the area from her briefing, glancing around her, noting the high rise density of the low cost district and winced. "I'm not exactly familiar with the area, but I'd say it would be best to evacuate a good two, maybe three block radius from ground zero." The noise that came over the radio was somewhere between a breath of exasperation, anger and a somehow squeezed in inarticulate curse. It expressed exactly what the lady on the other end of the connection thought. "You... Noin, I don't know what you think our resources are here, but I am ninety nine point nine percent positive that we don't have that many registered telepaths and empaths in the city! It's a big area, Noin. Are you sure it is necessary?" Well, at least her suggestion had not been tossed out immediately. That was progress. She was, when all was said and done, a Prime talent after all. One was supposed to listen when a Prime passed an opinion in a professional capacity. There would be city managers pulled in on this who would wonder if the Prime who suggested it was enjoying passing wind for the sake of hearing herself talk. "The miasma I am sensing is no longer contained to the alley. It is a good ten metres from the alley entrance and whist it is thankfully not moving quickly, it is still spreading. And given that it is less than twenty four hours since the murder took place, a good deal less I might add, that is suggestive enough of its rate of growth. It will continue to expand, and it will grow stronger as long as the source is not exorcised. The longer we leave this the worse it will get. It will be harder to get the victim to cooperate with me and just wait until the negativity from infected people cycles back into the source. If its left too long you will need to call in another Medium of Prime level, perhaps another two, and have us work in unison. And for god's sake, don't allow any empath above level two within one hundred metres of this location. That exclusion area will expand as the miasma expands." The silence was, this time, long and oozed disbelief. She could not blame Une, not after that bombshell. "You want an empathic barricade set up to cover up to a three block radius with empaths who grade lower than level three?!" Impossible, she knew, but somehow they were going to have to do it. There simply were not many options to deal with a situation like this. "I'm sorry, Une, it's not my preferred option, you know. Unless you want psychiatric wards overflowing with empaths on murderous rampages, you will make sure we get every empath of notable strength, or with a low shield capability, in the area to a safe distance. A psychic barricade has to be set up to contain this field, and a unit consisting of telepaths and empaths will be required to do that. If its allowed to flow unchecked it will eventually have this city in lockdown. Violent crimes, self inflicted harm, murder, rape... Rioting in the streets... You name it, it will begin as this contamination spreads. I'm not an alarmist, Une, but I am afraid. I'm very afraid of what is growing in that alley. You will have to find this killer before he kills again, because if he causes this reaction in all of his victims, then you'll have to watch the death toll and psychiatric commitment tally rise." "The sheer logistics of what you are asking... I don't know that I have the necessary pull to get it done." The woman sounded subdued, uncertain. Very different to the Anne Une Noin had been acquainted with, but then she supposed she could not blame the woman. The more she thought about the logistics of her request, the more impossible the reality of organising it seemed to her. But there was no other way she could see to deal with the situation. To protect the citizens they had to seal off this area as soon as possible. "I'll make some calls, see how many people in command positions I can get to believe me. To at least front for a meeting. You will need to have as much evidence for me as possible." "For all our sakes, you had better be very convincing and get them to listen. If I go in there and contact the shade, it will likely agitate him. If he gets agitated it will only spread the dissolution he is shedding faster. For now I will have to hold off contacting him, until we have preventative measures in place." "Alright. Get back here as fast as you can. I think I will need your testimony to convince people I'm not sniffing hallucinogens." "And Une, could you please request the officers standing guard on the crime scene be changed every two hours? These men here now need relief sooner rather than later." "I'll speak to someone about it." "Before they progress to blows, please. They have been here for quite a while I think, and you can use them as evidence if you need physical examples of the reactions you can expect from exposure to this miasma. The installation of remote detection devices might be an idea too. I know there will be some pollution from latent ability with people passing through the area, but it might be enough to help convince someone in authority that I am not smoking illegal substances." "Understood." tbc |
