“How is it going?”

“Well enough,” Henry said. He took a casual sip of coffee. “Trust in superheroes is at an all-time low. The storming of M.A.G.E HQ happened about as well as we can expect. Though we have to remain vigilant. If a big, uncontrolled threat were to happen now, Victory could gain all that public favor back with one punch.”

“Where is she now?” Paulo asked.

“Even I don’t know.” Henry scrolled through the many screens and UI’s at his disposal. “The top ten are afforded certain protections. It’s impossible to track their precise locations.”

“We’ll just have to make do without knowing.”

“There is one thing.”

“What?”

“A hero student. Actually… nah. She’s nothing.”

“If you say so.” Paulo ended the call and returned his attention to the debate. He leaned by the exit door, away from the flash photography and the scrutiny of the reporters.

“Don’t forget who it was that built this country,” Sandra Hammond was saying, “and this city. And rebuilt it again and again every time a hero shattered it and uprooted its foundations. Their work is paramount to our safety. But it’s time we let man protect man.”

It was a part of the new vernacular Paulo had observed rise out of grass roots. The word ‘ungifted’ implied inferiority, as though some crucial thing was missing. After all, mankind was strong without gifts. Man was man, and ought to proud of the fact. Of course it was their very weakness that led to the current state of affairs.

“What are you suggesting?” Omar Decker, the opposition, said. “That we remove the systems in place that allow heroes to protect us? The very systems that have saved millions?”

“Like I already said, their work makes us safe. But their being is dangerous in peacetime, like we have all observed. Let it be reminded that genetics is complicated beyond compare, especially in the gifted. Their powers and their control over them is not one hundred percent. A relevant risk when even one percent uncertainty can lead to an Awakening.”

“We’ve already had solid conclusions that it was the work of another gifted that caused the Awakening. This isn’t some natural disaster. An antagonistic actor is at play.”

“A gifted antagonist. Their being is dangerous in peacetime. I recognize they are crucial during crisis events, the most notable of which are, again, caused by gifted antagonists.”

“Gifted are as much citizens as anyone else, and should continue to be afforded the same place in this city whether a crisis exists or not.”

“I am not arguing for removing their place. I am simply highlighting the implications of it.”

Verbiage. Always the ink of the social playwright. Paulo was learning more every day about the niceties of living in America. The mincing of words when the meaning is the same. Sandra Hammond of the newly minted Mankind For Our Own Protection group avoided using phrases like ‘their kind’, opting to use ‘their being’ instead, avoiding the connotations of the former. The ungifted were man. Gifted were gifted. Distinctions, distinctions.

Paulo scowled ever so slightly. After all, they all did this, didn’t they? Both tolerance and bigotry required that man look upon their brother and see the monumental chasm of difference between them, before coming to a conclusion as to how to deal with such idiosyncrasy. Whether man loved or hated gifted, they were two separate tribes, living in the same powder keg.

If the mayor had listened to them however, the current order would begin to see change. For the better.

--

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lyssa said, smiling. “I’m me. I have a gift that’s particularly suited for dealing with the situation. That’s why I acted.”

“I see,” Carrie said. “That was a strange question. Forget it.”

They continued to move around the campus, subduing the trespassers safely and quietly. The incident became yet another in the city’s recent history.

Elaine was turned away the moment the last armed member of her crew was bound and secured. As Whitworth stood in the middle of their ‘negotiation’ and announced what had just occurred, Elaine did not seem to react. She stood on her own, and walked out without escort or urgency. Whitworth did not breach her thoughts, but he knew with certainty that she did not expect much to have come of this meeting. Though he understood perfectly well why the old lady had organized this encounter. After a point, to do nothing at all would be torture. And the current system was far from perfect. Ungifted needed greater protection from heroes. The world needed more gifted trained and disciplined in the use of their abilities. People needed to allow heroes deeper in their lives. The CEOR needed amendment.

First things first. The little rats running amok in New Langshir warranted a cleansing.

“I want you to move ahead with the schedule we talked about,” he telepathed.

“The girl?” Jackson thought back.

“Yes. Train her. She is to continue her classes and learn how to combat other gifted. Not the way Quachiri does it.”

“Her will doesn’t seem strong enough to handle such rigorous treatment.”

“Encourage her. You used to be a teacher, right? Nurture her. But if she falls behind, bring up Reginald Unas.”

“I see.”

The night’s activity was finished. People were returned home. The following morning, the Director would be asked what would happen to the trespassers. The answer was nothing at all, as long as they promised not to do something like that again. There was a quick speech about empathizing with their feelings, about not wanting to waste the police’s time. No one was hurt. That was what mattered. Though what did not make it into the morning’s front page story was that there wasn’t a single instant in that situation where anyone could have been hurt. Not when it all happened so close to Whitworth.

“How infuriating,” Amelia remarked mirthlessly as she slapped her tablet on the table. The story scrolled past in a frenzy.

“What can you do?” Penny said, more interested in her pancakes than the story.

“They held us at gunpoint because they were scared. They threatened us, because they were weaker, knowing deep down that we as nascent heroes would never want to hurt them nor were we in any way responsible for their plights. And they get off with nothing for appearance’s sake. The victim’s strength is the lenient hand of the strong.”

“Maybe in Godwinson’s Divide,” Carrie said. “You’ve lived here for years, Amelia. There is no gifted nobility here.”

“There ought to be,” Amelia said. “My family was one of the first to the defense against the Begabte Volk. Of course the Americans think World War II was won because they joined.”

“Maybe the surest sign of genuine power is the accompanying arrogance,” Carrie quipped.

“Ha ha,” Amelia said sardonically. She glanced around the dining room. “Where is our Lyssa?”

“She woke up early and left,” Penny said.

“What? Her?”

“Yeah. Said ‘hi’ to me I think. I was a quarter awake.”

“Does she seem odd to you?” Carrie asked.

Penny shrugged. “My eyes were barely open. She’s always weird anyway.”