David nodded slowly. He remembered his father’s condemnation of anyone who was unusual, but also of anyone who abused power. According to the old man, power led to abuse by its very nature, and David had seen Carderone’s trophy book. That man had taken a great gift—one much like the one David was finding within himself—and turned it to evil. Over twenty innocent men had died because of it.
“The Spider-Man coda,” he said with a smile as a new thought occurred to him. “With great power comes great responsibility.”
“Someone has to play police in a world with folks who have powers others don’t,” Kate told him. “We chose that role. For all our own reasons,” she added, looking at him.
David shrugged. “Some of us are fighting for something,” he agreed, putting into words the thoughts he had about the team, “and some are fighting against something. We’re all here to protect others.”
“That’s why you’re here, is it?” Kate asked, her voice a little more intent now to David’s ears.
“To serve and protect,” he quoted. “A policeman’s oath and one I took very seriously.”
Kate drew nearer to him, and her soft citrus scent hit David’s nostrils. Unthinkingly, David pulled slightly away, and Kate stopped.
“When do we start training?” he asked, hoping to turn the conversation to less personal grounds.
“Eight in the morning,” Kate replied, moving slightly down the couch, her expression unreadable to David.
“We should probably get some rest,” he thought aloud. “I get the impression we’ll need it.”
“You’re right,” Kate admitted. “We tend to go for about ten hours.” She stood up. “I’m glad you’re okay, David,” she told him. “If you need anyone to talk to, about anything, I’m just down the hall, okay?”
“Okay,” David agreed as he walked her to his door. “Thank you.”
#
David was surprised upon entering the training gym under one of the Campus’s smaller buildings the next morning to see a black-banded hawk flying straight at him. He was even more surprised, however, when the hawk vanished into thin air moments before its claws stuck his face.
“Sorry, David,” Akono murmured from where the other Agent stood near the door, half a dozen similar birds flying in circles around his head.
“How?” David asked. The gym was a good four floors below ground level, and there was no way the birds should have been down there.
“The birds aren’t real,” Kate told him from farther away, and David looked away from Akono’s flock to take in the rest of the “gym”.
Four stories below ground and two stories high, the room seemed almost Spartan at first glance. Minimal physical equipment was visible, and Kate and Morgen were simply standing in an empty space looking at each other now.
The floor was carefully polished hardwood, but the walls were stark concrete, thrown into harsh contrast by the powerful lights above.
A second glance around the room revealed several doors leading off into other rooms—the closest to David marked CAUTION: Firing Range—and chunks of the apparently concrete wall looked like they were on rails, designed to slide aside to reveal storage space. One of those sections had been pulled open to reveal mats, protective gear and practice weaponry for martial arts.
Ix and Bourque stood upon the large mat they’d spread out next to that panel, and the distraction of David entering had apparently allowed the Empowered to take the demon off-guard, slamming him into the mats with a resounding crash.
“Welcome to Training Hall K,” another voice said from David’s other side, and he turned to find Michael leaning against the wall, observing his men. “Get comfortable,” the werewolf Commander advised. “You’ll be spending pretty much all of your time here while we’re on active reserve.”
With that, the Commander gave David a rough nod and removed himself from the wall to join Ix and Bourque on the training mat. Looking around the room, David figured there were worse places to spend his time. Those sliding walls probably hid just about any training tool he could imagine.
“Not real?” David finally asked as Kate and Morgen joined Akono and gestured him over to them. As he approached, the flock of birds flickered out, one by one, before David’s astonished eyes.
“Glamors,” the elf said in his soft voice. “Beings of the Dream, made flesh by will.”
David blinked, confused by Akono’s mostly nonsensical words, and Morgen laughed.
“Never ask an elf to explain glamors,” the Mage told David dryly. “It’s like asking a fish to explain water. They can do it all right, but nobody else is going to understand them.”
“A glamor is something more than an illusion but less than real,” Kate explained. “The Dreaming, so far as we can tell, is an alternate plane of existence or something along those lines. The elves live half in our world, half in the Dreaming. With a focus of will, they can bring something into the real world made of the essence of the Dreaming.”
“The birds are real, then?” David asked, thankful for the Mage’s somewhat more clear explanation. “Just from somewhere else?”
“No,” Malcolm said softly. “They are made of the Dreaming; they are not from the Dreaming. They do not breathe; they are only an image. Only what I Dream them to be.”
“Anything he can imagine, he can create,” Kate told David softly. “Complicated machinery he has to imagine in full detail, which doesn’t work very well, but mental archetypes are easy to create.”
To demonstrate Kate’s point, Akono smiled, and suddenly the elf was five feet off the floor, clad in full shining plate mail upon the back of a pure white stallion. David scrambled back from the sudden massive threat, but then the elf had shrunk back, standing where he’d begun.
“The Knight I can call easily,” he explained dreamily. “Machines were alien to man when the Dreaming last came, and are alien to it still.”
“Which doesn’t stop him being a wizard with machines, too,” O’Brien interrupted the conversation. “But the lesson can wait. You were rusty at the church,” the Commander told David. “You’re better unarmed than that. Or”—the werewolf grinned wickedly—“you will be.”
#
Forty-some minutes later, David groaned his way back up from his latest plunge to the mat and was truly grateful for the enhanced strength and prescience his strange new nature gave him.
Without them, he knew that Michael would have truly ripped him apart. As it was, the ability to see Michael coming had allowed him to land a handful of blows, but he’d still been thoroughly humbled. He’d still done better than he should have. Much better, in fact, so far as he could tell.
“I don’t know that much Krav Maga,” he said softly, as Michael gestured for him to take a rest. He’d found himself using the forms of the Israeli martial art far more than the Tae Kwon Do he’d trained in before ONSET. His main exposure to the style, however, had been his far-too-short training cycle under Koburn. The thought of what that meant was somewhat disturbing,
“Yes, you do, obviously,” Michael told him dryly. “Koburn taught you.”
“In three weeks?” the younger Agent queried. “That’s impossible.”
“After all you’ve seen, you doubt that we have a teacher who can plug the muscle memory for the core of a martial art into you in a week?” the Commander replied. “Koburn is a Sage—an Empowered teacher. He really did teach you that much.”
David nodded slowly, internalizing the idea and realizing how much else Koburn had taught him that really shouldn’t have been doable in the handful of weeks they’d had. The thought that the “Sage” had basically been implanting knowledge directly into his head was uncomfortable, but he was also somewhat grateful. Otherwise, his training would have taken months locked in that concrete bunker instead of weeks.
“Again?” Michael asked, and David shook his head. The thought of going up against Michael’s terrifyingly superior strength and speed without some kind of break was too much.
“We should shift over to range training, anyway,” the Commander told him. “We all have to get in our allotment of wasted bullets.”
David nodded and followed his superior into the firing range. Blank concrete walls lined the long room. Ten separate stalls and target setups divided the range between them, and David took one of the stalls.
He drew the M1911 that Chief Hanson had given him, and settled into the comfortable rhythm of range training, sending one round after another down the long concrete range at the targets.
ONSET’s training range had the trickiest targets he’d ever seen. They had targets appear and disappear at random intervals, in random places, and the only warning was a plink sound as the target appeared. The shooter then had to find the target in the admittedly limited range and shoot it in less than four seconds.
David didn’t miss any of them.
#
“How is Agent White working out, Commander?” Warner asked Michael, and the werewolf paused to consider.
The pair was currently in a set of plush black leather chairs in Warner’s office that the Major made a point of hiding when interviewing new Agents. Michael had changed from his training clothes into his normal blacks, but his combat harness remained slung over the uniform body armor.
“He saved my life in Alexandria,” he finally pointed out. “I think that may bias my opinion.”
“I don’t know if I’d count that as a bias in this case so much as part of the assessment,” the Major pointed out. “Is he fitting in with your team?”
“So far?” Michael considered. “It’s only been a week, but I would say yes. He survived a week in an active duty bunker without driving them insane or vice versa. I’ve kept an eye on him, and his prescience is a good bit sharper than we thought it was. I think meeting up with Charles did wake a few things up, as he’s faster than he was in training too—not as fast as on the tape, but almost as fast as me.”
“He’s also doing his best to learn as much as he can about us,” the Commander continued. “He’s devouring every one of the texts on the history of the Offices and magic in the world that we have. I don’t even think he likes reading.”
“That’s a good thing,” Warner observed, drumming her fingers on the armchairs leather in thought. “If and when he finally powers up to what we saw in that video, he’ll be at least a Class 2—possibly even a full Class 1 Supernatural like you.”
Michael shifted uncomfortably. Class 1 Supernaturals were rare. Full-blooded werewolves only reached the status after about twenty years of growth into their powers. Mages like Traci could spend years studying and never earn that rating without a prodigious natural talent. Traci herself only barely classified as the lowest end of the category.
Omicron classified supernaturals in a rating system from one to ten, with one being “Maxim guns of magic” and ten being “I can glow slightly in the dark.” While OSPI would recruit any supernatural they found, ONSET generally regarded anyone less than Class 4 as simply too weak to carry the load of a strike team.
Right now, David’s extraordinary perception and prescience, along with his strength and speed boosted him into roughly the middle of Class 4. The even greater speed, strength and awareness he’d shown in the warehouse video clips, however, would put him solidly into Class 2 and quite possibly to Class 1.
“I think he will do us proud,” Michael finally said. “Whether he never shows those strengths again or fully Empowers later, he is determined to do his best, and that will carry him a long way.”
“Good,” Warner repeated. “If he does fully Empower later, you realize he’ll be fast-tracked to command?”
Michael nodded. Since teams had to coordinate around the actions and powers of their strongest members, ONSET followed a policy of putting those strongest members in command. Every Commander was at least a Class 2, and most were Class 1s. A team led by a Selkie would need to operate very differently than a team led by a Mage or a werewolf. The concept went against the grain for many of their ex-military people, but it worked.
“He has more experience than half of the team leads we already have. Of course I do,” he confirmed aloud.
“Does he?” Warner asked softly.
Chapter 15
After two days of living in his apartment in ONSET Nine’s dormitory, David slowly reached the end of his ability to live with just a desk, a bed and a kitchen. Knocking on Michael’s office door, he entered the small room tucked into the back of ONSET Nine’s building without waiting for an answer.
“Afternoon, David,” the werewolf Commander said calmly from behind the metal desk. The desk was typical of the room. A row of unadorned black metal filing cabinets lined the back wall, and the desk was made of the same material. Metal cabinets hung from the roof of the room over the desk, providing Michael with space to store things around his computer.
“So, how do I get furniture in this place?” David asked. His voice was calm, he thought, but he was more than a little stretched. It was hard to use what privacy he got when there was literally nothing in his apartment. “Somehow,” he continued, “I don’t think I can get IKEA to deliver.”
The thought of the Swedish furniture giant delivering to the top secret base, past the concrete walls and heavy weapons, amused David. The inability to have anything delivered to a top secret base, however, was the major issue with his getting furniture.
“Have you decided whether or not to bring furniture from your place in Charlesville?” O’Brien asked.
“No,” David admitted. The thought hadn’t actually crossed his mind. Six weeks had passed since he’d last been home in Charlesville, and his furniture there hadn’t occurred to him.
His Commander leaned forward on his desk, layering his fingers together on top of the pile of paperwork on the black steel as he regarded David. David returned Michael’s regard as flatly as he could. The thought of his home had brought back a stabbing feeling of homesickness.
“David, you’ve so far proven yourself beyond our expectations,” O’Brien told him. “That comes at a price—among other things, higher expectations—but it’s still impressive.” The ONSET officer paused for a moment, and then pulled up a memo and regarded it.
“Something’s going to come up shortly that will require a chunk of your time and effort,” he said quietly. “We’re going to need you fully in your own head, not distracted by lack of furniture and homesickness. Understand?”
David nodded slowly. He understood what Michael was saying, although he wasn’t sure where it was leading—or what the “something” that was going to come up was.
“I’m going to cut your training short this once,” the werewolf continued. He raised a finger from where his hands rested on the desk. “I expect you to make up for it twice over when you get back, and you’ll still only have a week’s leave,” Michael said gruffly, “but I think you’ve earned an early break. Go home. Check which furniture you want to move and which you want to leave. I’ll give you the number of a liaison officer with OSPI near to you, and you can let him know what you need. Sound fair?”
The junior Agent looked at his superior in surprise. He’d been fully prepared for the week of training he was supposed to receive before going on leave, but the thought of leaving sooner still sounded very good.
“More than fair,” David finally admitted.
“Then get your ass the hell out of my office,” Michael ordered. “I’ll have a car run you down to the Springs airport later today. Go!”
#
The cab dropped David off at his front door and collected the cash the Agent had been given in advance to pay for the trip. He then squealed away, leaving the new ONSET man standing on his own doorstep, looking up at his house.
The house was his, with only a small mortgage. He’d learned the hard
way to watch his debt when his family home had been seized after his parents’ death to pay their mortgage. A year’s salary with ONSET would allow him to pay off the mortgage in full, with more than enough left over for any living expenses he was likely to incur.
For a long few minutes, David simply stood on the threshold of his home and looked at the white-painted two-story home. It seemed so mundane and calm to his eyes now. Even his Sight revealed little about the home. Few emotions had attached themselves to this building over the years. Any emotions that had attached themselves to the wood and brick of the old house, time and multiple occupants had wiped away.
It certainly did not look like the home of a man with magic flowing in his veins. Its normalness struck David as a warning. If his home looked so normal, who knew what hid under the mundane trees and houses around him?
If he’d been so wrong about the nature of the world, how wrong might he be about the nature of people?
It was with a sigh and a shake of the head that David finally entered his house.
#
David spent an hour cataloging the furniture in his house, deciding what he wanted to take with him—his bedroom suite, most of his kitchen utensils, his better living room set—and what he was going to leave—a second set of couches and the suite from his spare room.
After an hour, he dropped the pad of paper he’d been keeping track of everything onto the large bleached white oak desk he’d inherited from his father—take with him—and grabbed a beer from his fridge. The beers were the only thing left in the fridge after he’d purged it before leaving.
He glanced at the clock and realized it was later than he’d thought. While he hadn’t had a chance to reach out to Hanson, most of the unmarried off-duty cops would have gathered at Whistler’s, the local cop bar by now. Given that he had a full week before he had to return to the Campus, David saw no reason that cataloging the furniture couldn’t be finished tomorrow.
ONSET: To Serve and Protect Page 14
