Contagion

[Misericorde]

Ninety Days Prior to the Second Invasion:
Continuance of Greystone College.

"....and so that's where I was."

David Conrads, school counselor, massaged his face with the palms of his hands. They smelled vaguely of the fried chicken he'd had for lunch. He had to admit, he was slightly confused by the "Facts" that Micheal had just relayed to him. He chose his words carefully as he spoke.

"Michael. Let me make sure I understand you. You've been working for Longbow, keeping tabs on dangerous students, to act as a safeguard in case one of them becomes dangerous, at which point you are to intervene."

Michael nodded an affirmative.

"Alright. Continuing on. These dissappearances of yours over the past year have been assignments from Longbow, to track down Brother Hood, a terrorist "black mask" and your former mentor, loosely affiliated with the Malta Group and the Knives of Artemis?" David intentionally kept his tone neutral.

Again, Michael nodded yes, but looked slightly confused.

"Finally, your most recent disappearance was a trip to Ziggursky prison, wherein a covert agency within Longbow had placed you undercover to assassinate Brother Hood, who was imprisoned there in Isolation?"

"Ye....s...." Michael said, worry creasing his brow slightly, he smiled weakly.

"And finally, when you found Brother Hood, you assassinated him, then passed out, and found yourself in a nearly-abandoned Fifth Column bunker. Therein two scientists and a small cadre of soldiers were attempting to perform some type of experimental procedure on you, but you escaped, and made your way back here, of all places."

Michael nodded again. "Yes, that's right....well, most of it."

Conrads steepled his fingers. He breathed in through his nose, the muscles around his eyes tightening somewhat. He wet his lips with his tongue and took a small breath before continuing. It needed to be said. "Michael, I checked with Longbow. The events you described did not happen." He paused, to let the information sink in, before continuing. "I spoke to an old friend who is very well connected. You are not, nor have you ever been, working for Longbow. Nor have you returned to Ziggursky prison since your initial release last year."

Michael Corde sat in stunned silence. His hands gripped each other so tightly the tendons strained and popped in the quiet counselor's office.

"Michael, I know you believe the information you gave me was true..." he paused, watching the boy's eyes for some clue "...but this isn't the first time your facts haven't added up. Do you remember telling me at Ziggursky, when we worked together for your release, about Operation Schwarzvald? Where a coalition of Heroes assaulted a bunker in Germany?"

Michael inclined his head slightly, ran a hand through his hair, fingers tightening.

"Michael, "Schwarzvald" means Black Forest. The events you described to me happened...but you were remembering it wrong. Michael, the Battle of the Black Forest took place, but not between Longbow and the Hood in two-thousand five. Michael, it took place between the Allied Forces and the Nazi Storm Korps in Nineteen Forty-Five...."

Michael Corde slumped forward in his chair. Something David had just said... "you were remembering it wrong..." struck a chord. Almost on cue, his head exploded with pain, his vision darkening, and tiny explosions of light crept into his peripheral vision. "Doctor Conrads, I think I need to lie down...." He held onto those words as conciousness slipped from his mind. "...remembering it wrong."

[Misericorde]

"Jesus, David, what did you do?"

Valerie Atwood warily circled Michael Corde as he lay sprawled upon the floor, silent and still. It was the only time she had seen the boy in anything resembling a peaceful pose since he had arrived at the school just over a year ago. She kneeled beside the boy, reaching for an eyelid. He smelled like...spoons or...clean silverware. David interrupted her. "I wouldn't do that, Val..." She retrieved her hand cautiously, checking her fingertips for injury. "...he tends to run on autopilot if you know what I mean." Valerie stood, smoothing her skirt down. She squinted at the boy. "What's wrong with him, David?" She had to lean in close to see the other counselor's face.

He false-started the conversation, then took a moment to look out the window, as if they answer lay in the foliage there. "It's not what I did. He's just doing what he does." He caught Valerie's eyes. "He's healing himself." Valerie rubbed at a pencil-thin eyebrow with her fingertips. "So, you think...what? You think he'll...?" She let the words trail from her lips, The implication settled between them, hung in the air. David shrugged, resigned. "We can't take the chance. Go notify the Headmaster, will you? Tell him this should be the last time, one way or the other," David uttered, as he opened the smooth black lines of his cellphone. Valerie nodded, slipped out the door, giving the unconscious boy a wide berth, stepping cautiously around him. David allowed his eyes to drift towards Michael as he dialed a number, counting the rings. After six, he hung up, and dialed a second number.

"Fa-1-c0-n34, thirty-three papa, break. Line One, Alpha, break. Line Two, Incursion, break. Line Tree, Flash-flash-flash Contagion. How copy?" He stared at the boy, as the information was repeated to him for clarity. The phone was tossed onto his desk, fingers found their way to his mouth, and he began to chew the nail of his left index finger. When the boy regained conciousness, would David even recognize the mind behind those eyes?

He hoped not.
If he did...good God.
Could it happen again?

[Misericorde]

Janine St. Claire, admissions administrator for The Saint Joseph School of Paragon City, Rhode Island, USA, tapped her finger upon her perfectly straight teeth. She clucked her tongue and inspected five of her ten porcelain-fine lacquered nails.

"This is going to be a problem, David."

David Conrads nodded. Guidance counselor to metahuman teens, empath, and (so it was rumored) former hero. "I know. You warned me. I appreciate the favor."

Janine pursed her lips, her mouth slid sideways as she chewed at the inside of her cheek. "Honestly? You should have just killed him in Germany. There are some things..."

David never took his eyes off the boy on the floor, cutting her off as sharply as the knives that were hidden inside the boy's body. "....no. There are some things...that we will not do. Killing a child is one of those things." The lines of his jaw worked methodically.

Janine looked reticent, affected her schoolgirl face, hugging her elbows. "Maybe you're right, but...you do realize he knew that, and that's why he...I mean, aren't we just buying into his plan?"

David turned and regarded her silently. She nodded slowly, eyes sliding to the boy.

The body of Michael Corde stirred, fingers fluttering upon the hardwood floor.