The limousine pulled to a stop beside the Capital entrance. Two marines in formal dress stood at attention to either side of the closed elevator shaft, weapons held before them. They were hulking brutes, towering over normal men and women. Augmented with a cocktail of steroids, gene-therapy and bio-engineered implants, marines like these had turned the tide on the war with their Pro-Human feats of strength and ability. Kurniec should know, he had helped create them.

And that was the problem.

The iris of the elevator telescoped open and the limo pulled forward onto the waiting platform. Kurniec looked at the nearest marine as he passed, attempting to recognise the soldier, and wondering if this man knew who was in the car. He felt like a sort of fatherly figure to them. He had birthed them anew, moulding them into what they are now. This particular marine, however, was younger, so unlikely a veteran of the war. His batch had been more refined, more stable. Men like him were not the reason Kurniec was being dragged to the Capital for a private hearing. It was their forebears - the rushed and required Mark Ones.

The hypocrisy irked Kurniec no end. Congress had begged for an answer to the overwhelming numbers and sophisticated weaponry the A.R.C had deployed. He had delivered in spades, giving the United States and her allies the greatest creation in bio-engineering, bar none. They were more than just super soldiers. They were the next step in human evolution. Now the war was over, these insects, these hypocrites, they demanded answers?! They thought to reprimand him? They had another think coming…

He watched the elevator descend through the tinted windows of the limo, his mind going over the cost of building a structure so large and deep underground. The platform slowed to a comfortable stop. Floodlights illuminated the underground cavern. The limo crawled down a paved tunnel wide enough to fit an armoured tank brigade. Light glared back at him from the white washed concrete walls as they passed parked cars and military vehicles. Soon the limo stopped by another checkpoint. The driver wound down the dividing window.

“Wait for me here,” said Kurniec.

The driver nodded and raised the window. “Follow me,” said Kurniec, turning to the other passenger in the car. “Try to keep yourself inconspicuous. The pocket trump is only useful if the rest of table is unaware, or some such. I never did like five hundred…”

The boy blinked at him, his unsettling eyes as dull and emotionless as the glass eyes on a doll. “As you say, Uncle.”

Kurniec repressed a shudder. He opened the door and made to get out, pausing to turn to the boy. “You understand what I require of you once we are inside?”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Of course. Of course,” said Kurniec. “I forget sometimes.”

He slid out of the sleek limo and walked to the barred security door, adjusting his immaculate navy suit and practising his best smile. More Pro-Human marines stood at ease. The soldiers watched him approach, their calm demeanour belying their superior cunning and ferocity. Using these men to guard a post was like using a tank to watch a dog-door — absolute overkill and potentially dangerous.

Kurniec grunted. They turned a blind eye on his creations when it suited their purposes.

A guard stationed beside the entrance left his security booth. He wore the black suit of a Treasury agent and the removable Tac-piece and R.F implant of the services. He was a child compared to the stationed marines.

“May I see your I.D, Sir?”

Kurniec sighed. Everyone on the planet knew who he was. He fumbled in his pocket for the government issued badge, then passed it to the guard.

“Thank you, Sir. This is current,” said the guard, handing the badge back after scanning it with his optics.

The blast door cranked open, exposing the foyer of America’s Capitol City, a multilevel bunker housing all branches of the executive office and military. Wooded pathways and floral gardens surrounded a central column which raised several stories above and below the current floor level. A wide concrete path stretched from the blast doors to its heart of steel and glass. It was perhaps one of the greatest feats of structural engineering ever performed. Part of him hated it. His rivals had won the contract, using tech his marines had stolen from the enemy no less. He wasn’t lost to the irony.

He strode forward, leaving the guard behind before he could raise an objection to his nephew. It was best to move fast and not draw attention when hiding the boy. Men and women enjoyed the artificial sunlight and scrubbed air of the gardens around him. He recognised some of them as senators and members of congress. He walked as fast as he dared, hoping to avoid meeting anyone of note. As he approached the glass doors of the Resolution Tower, he spotted some journalists waiting covertly to the side, perhaps hoping to catch him or one of the House members unaware. His meeting had been announced publicly but it was a closed session. He kept his head down, focusing on where he was going. At the automatic doors he risked a glance sideways. A female news anchor was staring straight at him, her face a mask of confusion. Kurniec sighed in relief. The boy was good.

There was another security station inside, staffed by men and women in black suits. The Pro-Humans were kept outside it seemed, as you would treat a dog. Kurniec signed in the registry.

“Through the scanner, Sir,” requested a battle scarred agent, the Tac-piece hiding severe burns to her head. They were likely due to Plasma, technology the A.R.C had experimented with on the battlefield.

Kurniec walked through the full body scanner, the agents watching him intently.

Eat it up, he thought as he smirked.

His nephew followed through the scanner, the agents looking anywhere but at him.

“If you would follow me, Sir,” spoke the female agent, extending a hand in the direction of the wide, tiled stairs. She escorted him up one level to the new House of Congress. They walked down a corridor that overlooked the Congressional Chambers and artificial gardens outside. At the end of the circular corridor was a series of private rooms. She stopped at one and knocked.

“Come in! We’ve been waiting,” came a surly reply.

The agent opened the door for Kurniec, her lips compressed in a thin line.

Kurniec and his nephew walked in. Hostile and friendly faces greeted him. Arrayed along a rectangular table sat five men and women from the Select Security Council. Several aides stood in the back holding files and yawning. Kurniec smiled at Congressman Holmes, the one man in the room that might be on his side. He had some skin in the game, as he had voted on the original bill. Whatever happened, it would be interesting to see how he acted. Kurniec sat at the waiting table and chair, set at a distance from the congress members. His nephew took his position in the corner, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Kurniec held up a hand to wait.

“David, thank you for joining us,” said Holmes.

The other congress members made a range of faces, expressing their own feelings.

“As you know, this is an informal meeting, and we thank you for taking time with us to get to the bottom of this… particular problem,” said Holmes, casting a wary look at the man sitting beside him.

“It is not a ‘problem’,” spat Congressman Reiner, “It’s a grade ‘A’ disaster! How did you not know about this David? You must have known this would happen?”

“Could you be more specific, please?” asked Kurniec politely.

“You fucking know what I’m talking about, you smug little shit!” shouted Reiner, jabbing a finger at Kurniec.

“Don is referring to the reports of… ‘super-powered’ children, David,” said Congresswoman Alvarez, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Which reports,” replied Kurniec spreading his hands. “I haven’t seen anything official.”

“Please, David… We’re getting it up to here in our own districts,” said Congresswoman Klein, raising a hand to her throat. “You must have seen footage of these teens. It’s been all over the news. Kemprex must know what’s going on?”

All five members stared at him intently. Kurniec looked at each one, scribing the details of their expressions to memory.

“We have been doing some research of our own, yes,” replied Kurniec.

Reiner leaned forward, his skin turning a brighter shade of red. “And? What did you find Mister Kurniec?”

Kurniec leaned back in his chair. “We have found that indeed some of the offspring of our Mark 1 and Mark 2 ‘Super Soldier’ programs have exhibited signs of inheriting altered genes from their parents. The test group has been too small, however, to pinpoint any specific conclusion.”

“Kids are fucking exploding into flames, Kurniec! How do you explain that?” shouted Reiner.

Klein put a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm him. “It is more than inheriting a little strength or resistance to cold weather, David. These kids… these teenagers can do some very strange and extraordinary things.”

“I’m aware.”

Reiner shuffled some papers on the desk before him, a gesture which seemed like the flexing of his muscles. “I have some numbers I’d like to go over with you, David. The Mark 1 series of the Pro-Human program had how many inductees?”

“Let me check my bank account and get back to you.”

“Thirty thousand and change. How many do you think survived the war?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me…” grinned Kurniec.

“Stop dicking around, David. This is serious,” warned Holmes.

Kurniec wiped the shit-eating grin from his face. “The stability of the Mark 1 soldiers had a seventy three percent success rate. The casualty rate of the Mark 1’s was around fifty two percent. That would leave approximately ten thousand survivors from the war.”

“And how many do you suppose had children?” asked Alvarez, her fingers knotted together.

“Does it look like I’d know that?” said Kurniec, rolling his eyes.

Alvarez shot him a steely gaze. “Homeland puts a figure of approximately sixteen thousand. And those are just the just those sired by Mark 1’s.”

“That is a lot of children, David,” said Klein. “A lot of dangerous children.”

Reiner leaned forward. “And what about the other generations?”

Kurniec shrugged.

Alvarez let out a long sigh. “Approximately sixty thousand children have been sired by Pro-Humans.”

“That may be true, but only those sired by the first two batches have unstable genes. The Mark 3’s are rock solid,” said Kurniec.

“And why is that?” replied Alvarez.

Kurniec leaned back in his chair. “When President Adams came to me, we had already been trialling a program. The results weren’t as impressive however. He wanted something that could destroy the enemy, not merely survive longer. Time was short, but we had the foundations. The Mark 1 soldiers were developed and shipped off to Europe and Asia. While stronger than the following generations, the artificial organs we implanted were not perfect. This was improved in the Mark 2’s with a sacrifice to their general strength and size. There was still a high failure rate, however. We hit the nail on the head with the third and final generation, removing a particular gland that was causing issues and fine-tuning the altered gene sequence.”

Reiner slapped the paper on the table. “Is there any risk that our current generation of Pro-Humans will spawn these monsters?”

“No, not according to our tests and research,” replied Kurniec.

“So, you have been conducting your own tests?” asked Klein.

“Of course.”

“And…” prompted Reiner.

“And we want answers,” replied Holmes, giving Kurniec a level stare. “It took someone five minutes to connect these kids to the Pro-Human program. The press and Justice are talking and the noises are not good, not to mention the vitriol coming out of the Senate and House.”

Holmes looked to his fellow members before carrying on. “There are going to be inquiries and hearings for months if not years on this.”

Holmes stretched back in his chair, his gaze falling away from Kurniec. “Everybody is looking for someone to blame, David. You and your company are the obvious choice.”

Kurniec looked to Holmes, one of the men who had championed him a decade or more earlier.

The others looked at him expectantly, perhaps waiting for him to break down and beg for a deal. He would never beg.

“The government of the day signed a contract. President Adams pleaded for me to do something,” said Kurniec, his voice rising. “We were losing. I delivered the Pro-Humans. My program turned the war around. Now that it’s over, that it is safe, you turn on me? You want to make me responsible?” Kurniec barked a bitter laugh. “I will drag each and every politician who comes after me down. I have the resources.”

“Don’t you threaten us, you arrogant shit!” yelled Reiner, thumping the desk with his hand.

“Don!” snapped Klein. “Keep it clean!” She turned to Kurniec. “Listen. Nobody is blaming you, David. But we need answers. The press demand answers. What can we expect from these ‘Super Kids’? Are our Pro-Human troops safe? Will they develop a third eye or tentacles?” she said laughing.

Nobody else shared her brevity.

Klein dropped her false smile. “We need to know what we are facing, David. Do we need to take every Pro-Human’s family into custody? Is there a cure?”

The House members looked at him, waiting for a reply.

“Is there a cure, Mr Kurniec?” asked Holmes.

Kurniec shook his head.

“God-damn it” snapped Reiner. “I knew you couldn’t help!”

Alvarez leaned forward. “This is not good, David. We will have to proceed with formal hearings… perhaps sooner than we hoped.”

“Kemprex’s share price will drop if you even hint at a hearing,” growled Kurniec, his hackles rising.

“That’s not our problem,” replied Reiner.

“I was granted immunity by President Adams…” said Kurniec, slamming the table.

Alvarez shook her head, turning to her aide and signalling her over. “Someone needs to pay. The people demand blood.”

Kurniec snapped his fingers once.

The aide stepped forward, folder in hand. She paused midway across the floor, her face going blank.

“Jessie, the papers, please?” asked Alvarez.

Jessie dropped the folder to the floor, scattering paper across the carpet.

“Jessie! What’s got into you?”

Alvarez looked to the other aides. They had all frozen in place, their eyes blank. “What is happening?”

Kurniec tapped his finger on the desk. “There won’t be any investigation into me or my company.”

“You are full of it if you believe you can simply buy off or control any member on this panel, Mr Kurniec,” said Klein.

Kurniec smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not buying…”

“We will bury you, you arrogant shit,” snapped Reiner. “We have…”

Kurniec snapped his fingers again.

The congress members slumped over one by one, Reiner garbling a strange cry as he was cut off. Kurniec stood and stretched his back. He looked at his nephew who stood hunched over in the corner, breathing heavily.

“Can I talk to them?”

“Yes,” panted the boy.

“Will it have any influence?”

“Yes.”

Kurniec smiled and approached the catatonic congress members, removing a letter from his pocket and placing it on the table. “I have here my company’s official response. You will take it as gospel. It outlines my proposal to capture and contain the children affected by the Pro-Human programme. It will be heard on the floor. This inquiry shall disappear. I will not be prosecuted or indicted in any court.”

He looked at his nephew.

The boy nodded. “I may need to... remind them in the future. They will obey for now, however.”

“Good. I’m proud of you,” said Kurniec.

His nephew rolled his eyes.

“Do you have the names of the others? I want this issue gone.”

The boy bowed his head. He swayed from side to side as he probed the minds of the congress members. “I have them.”

“Then you know who to see next.”

His nephew nodded, wiping at the sweat on his brow with his sleeve.

“I’m going home,” said Kurniec straightening his tie. He gave one last look at the stunned House members. “We must prepare for our new guests.”