Saint Joseph School

Arkady felt odd. He could barely distinguish where he was. Was it night? He felt the heat of light on his skin, or did he? Everything was tingly and he felt suspended on air. He tried to speak, but no sounds would come. He tried to see, but he was never quite sure if his eyes were open. And then he heard the voices. Hearing? No... he couldn't hear either, if there was sound. It was his telepathy, fuzzy, but there.

"Why'd we bring him in, doctor?" The voice seemed to be outloud, maybe it was? It was an obvious question, or was it telepathic speech directed at another? He couldn't quite tell. And then he heard the same, soothing voice in his head. Female, perhaps.

"You think that's wise? Our goal here is to fine-tune..." The voice trailed off, as if the person answering the questions dismissed that line of questioning all-together.

Arkady tried to turn his head, felt the distant marker of pain. He was... on his stomach? But he felt no table, no platform beneath him. His limbs were limp at his sides, or so he assumed. He couldn't tell.

"I'm not questioning the program. It's had remarkable success. Are we done here then? Just the wings?"

And then Arkady seemed to gain a momentary acuteness in senses. His eyes focused and he gasped at what he saw. A clear plate of glass seperating, the female face unfamiliar, but the man next to her. Older, yes, more scarred, grey hair but...

"Papa..." Arkady's lips didn't seem to move, he didn't feel them move anyhow. And they must not have, for he saw the female instantly react, the man as well and everything went black.

Arkady inhaled sharply. Where was he? His eyes hurt, his body was sore, yet still distantly. Had he been drugged? He tried to move, his arms and legs responding only mildly, but at least they did. His wings? No, no response. But he couldn't see... And then his senses hit him one at a time. His eyes caught the statue of Atlas in the distance, cool air on his skin. The grass that tickled his chest, arms, and bare feet. He panicked, his mind calling out to no one in particular. Perhaps it was his memory, his friends that he seemed to think of first when he was in distress.

"Help, I..."He couldn't get words to form, but he felt the telepathy fire off like a beacon, the distress of his emotions packed into the wave. And then all went black, his head settling in the grass and unconciousness taking him again.

Gabe was back at city hall again.

The semi-regular meetings to have various accolades and awards bestowed on him were not becoming more of an annoyance than an honor. They'd pulled him out of school for this? again? At a certain point in his heroic career, it was as if the sky itself had decided to open up and rain medals. It was a private ceremony he half enjoyed and half dreaded. he'd never asked for recognition.

"In recognition of your outstanding service, Citadel has asked..."

Then he felt something, a pulse, not so distant: Help, I... and then it faded to a sort of background static.

Gabe stood up, pushing back his chair, "excuse me, sir." he was already moving for the window "someone's in trouble."

The man looked up from the pre-written statement, "pardon?"

"A signal," Gabe pulsed his field, sweeping himself into the air, and sending a jar of paperclips storming around the room, knicknacks and office supplies dancing in the guassian field, "Sorry."

the man looked at him quizically, "no problem, this is only a formality."

"No," Gabe said, as he applied forward impulse, "Sorry about your window."

He exploded into the sky amid a plume of beading safety-glass, particles of laminate glass snowing around him. The beacon had been close, but brief, there was little time to lose. He spread out in a search pattern, a widening spiral, at top speed. It was rush-hour, thousands of people. He swept out with his empathy, feeling for pain.

And he found it, a dull, muddled ache somewhere to his left and he banked around, diving. A man laying in the grass at the side of the road, in the shadow of the retaining walls around the square. He came in on his knees, already fumbling for his communicator.

"Can you hear me? Sir? Can you hear me?"

Arkady mumbled, moaned as he tried to turn his head, catching the voice as it neared him. He stumbled over himself, his hand clawing at the grass as his eyes tried desperately to focus.

"G...Gabe?" His voice was raspy, weak from the sedatives that still relaxed his every muscle. He let out a long, labored sigh, what energy he had conserving itself as he drifted again. Where he was, he barely knew, his memory was so foggy.

And then that voice resounded in his ears again, or did it?

"I hope you enjoyed your stay with us. Come again soon..." Arkady groaned, felt movement. Heard voices, all of it was blurred, distant, and muffled. Who was she? She must have been a telepath, like him. But... his father? He saw his father! Or was that just another illusion. His head was so muddled, chaotic.

And again, amidst everything, he continued speaking when he could, one word forming past his lips.

"Papa..."

My god, is was Arkady.

He lay there like a wounded bird, no wings anymore, his shirtless back had two even surgical scars, still dripping thickened, dark blood.

"Arkady. Arkady" He called. Non-responsive, mostly, but at least he wasn't PNB.

"Hold on." he said, reaching over and holding him tightly, careful to avoid his wounds, and hitting his medibadge. The entire world turned itself inside out as they both ported, bending in strange ways. He'd never done this conscious before, and it was strange, even stranger than when Lilly had pulled him though space.

The hospital bed seemed to materialize under them, though cognitively he knew that he was materializing there, it still seemed as though the world shaded in around them, rendering itself out of glacial fog.

"Him" Gabe said, groggily. Someone was moving him to a gurney, "I'm fine, I'm fine, he's the patient," Gabe was coming to pretty rapidly out of transport daze, "He's responsive, but..." he shook his head a little, "responsive but not meaningfully, low heartrate, low breath rate, seems sedated, two fresh surgical scars."

The attending doctor looked him over, "why are you in my Emergency Room?"

"I... I tagged along, he's got two scars, don't look like back-alley surgery."

"Sir, please, the medibadge system is for patients only. I'll take it from here."

Gabe nodded, feeling vaugely guilty, "alright."

The doctor had already turned his back, and was busily applying a pulse oximeter, "Thank you, Mr. Templar."

Time had ceased to pass for Arkady some time ago. The last real coherent thought he had was an early morning stroll through Talos Island, just after Mass would have begun. And now?

Arkady sat up quickly from the bed he was in. Where was he? Hospital. That part didn't seem to help him. What about his dreams? Were they dreams? What had... and then he noticed it. The dull pain in his back, his hand frantically moving behind him. He felt fine, alittle groggy but otherwise well enough off.

"What happened?" He seemed to ask to no one in particular, frowning at the nurse who approached and tried to get him to lay back down. He was energetic now, angry, frustrated in the gap in his memory. She didn't seem to offer any real answers either.

"Are you feeling okay, Mr. Romanov? You were brought here sedated, and the scars. Wings removed surgically. By the tests, it was professional and precise. We even found traces of medical nanites left in the wound."

Arkady frowned, gazing around the hospital room, searching for a familiar face or something to gain his bearings as he carefully drew to his feet, cold skin patting the floor. "What do you mean?"

"It means, Mr. Romanov, whomever did this to you had access to advanced medical facilities and possibly a good sum of money. At least you're alright." She set to following him out of the room, his feet quick as he moved into the lobby, eyes searching for someone, anyone. And there he spotted Gabe, shivering for the first time in realization of a lack of a shirt.

In seeming response, the nurse settled a blanket around his shoulders and calmly walked off with a sigh. She was used to headstrong heroes getting up long before they should have to fight again, this one was no different. So, despite everything, he seemed fairly well off, so she left it at that.

"Gabe? What... how'd I get here?"