Oakfield Academy of Gifted Youths

London, UK

2218

A gaggle of five pre-teens sprint through a faintly lit, gray marbled hallway. Bouncing and bumbling off the steel grilled lockers, they had been making their way towards the only place that had some form of protection. The Headmaster’s Office, the last sanctuary in the entire school, stood proudly as its wide oak door was the only place in the entire academy that hadn’t been touched by the renegade psions.

They round another corner, the skidding rubber of their shoes eliciting a harsh screech as they momentarily forget the laws of physics still holding command. Jumping out of the open hallway to stop at a nearby wall, they take a moment to catch their breath.

“Are they still coming?!” a girl panics.

“Fuckin’ bloody Boomers just had to come to this school! Fuck!” a delinquent says struggling to keep his cool.

Two other youths take the chance to vomit as they still remember their fellows being ripped in half only a short moment ago. While most them are panicking about their current predicament, a young boy stood silent with his ear to the wall. This wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his birthday.

Five… ten… eleven…

He counts in silence as he figures out the next step to staying alive. He knew that if any of them held any chance of surviving, he would need to know in advance everything that was coming towards him. Even when that advance came in the form of Boomers (international slang for renegade psions drugged out of their minds to the point where animalistic instincts override human morality) making a massed assault on the academy.

This was definitely not the way he wanted to spend his birthday.

“Hey Eli?” a youth asks wiping his mouth.

The boy with his ear to the wall twitches before turning to him. He motioned for him to continue as he could see the boy was nervous. The youth looked around, nodding at the others as they all seemed to be wondering the same thing.

“What are our chances of—”

Just at that moment, the wall explodes, scattering them across the hallway. Seemingly in slow motion, Elijiah feels a certain curious sense of calm overtake him. The colors of the booming flame twisted and twirled, the shockwave dispersing the flames quite quickly throughout the corridor. The laws of relational physics contorted as brick and stone quickly ran through a host of forms, from solid to gas and then back to liquid. The sound of everything around him was stilled into silent obedience.

From his position on the ground, he could see one of his fellow students was struggling to contain his viscous innards from seeping out while another had already ceased all movement. He could feel some sticky liquid matting the sides of his head.

So… this is what it’s like to die. He thought silently, his thoughts and words oddly out of sync with the current situation.

Elijiah tried to turn his head to get a look at the others but found that it was taking forever to turn his head at the right angle he wanted. His body didn’t seem to want to comprehend its master’s commands.

And then came the snap. Time’s focus resumed, light from everywhere became brighter and brighter, and the roar of the explosion came at him all at once.

His position on the ground allowed him an uninhibited view of the Boomers as they came from a couple dozen yards away. They seemed like dark blots, each one carrying a different sadness as each one was carried through the light of the sun. As if that wasn’t enough, he could hear them before he could see them. Each of them carrying a tune, and yet, oddly, everyone was in tune with the other. A tune that wasn’t a song in any kind of fashion yet makes anyone who has ever survived a Boomer attack end up drooling in a high maintenance psychiatric ward.

First came a toddler’s laughter. It was the kind that danced upon the wind that rushed into the rising room. And yet, it was a freeing and simple miscommunication between what the ears heard and what the brain interpreted.

Second came the whispers. Names and words and dates that all seemed to come out of focus… each one just slightly out of reach of comprehension. Each one known only to the person themselves as the beginnings of fear start to become localized in the central cortex of the brain.

Third came the limpness and random acts of body movement, as the Boomers got to work tearing the mind apart starting with muscle control. From where Elijiah lay, he could see the others spasming out of control almost to the point that their bodies were flailing about like a group of fish just dropped out of the net upon the deck of a fishing boat.

As this happens, a slow lump begins rising out of everyone’s gut as fear begins controlling everything they do. It starts at the back of the throat, rising second by second as figures out of sight control everything happening within their bodies. It rose and rose until fear gave way to panic.

The pupils began to dilate. Muscles tightened and constricted. Hysteria began to break upon their minds removing all influences of rationality.

And finally, fourth… the mind shatters.

It was at this moment that everything turned dark, his memory having come to an end.

Silence. Nothing but the cold void filled the room as Alistair woke. His eyes lazily opened at the seams, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He could feel drugs pumping into him at a trickle, and something… something heavy settled in his gut. Like a knot that had settled into a pulled muscle. He closed his eyes, sifting through the memories of what had happened. He tried to understand how he had been rushed into an operation such as this.

His response was scant whispers. Whispers that echoed within the dark recesses of Alistair’s mind. He could still see the faint faces of his classmates staring at him from beyond the grave. He opens his eyes once again, tugging on his psionic powers to ascertain the state of his body.

His prognosis? He felt like someone had used his body as an alchemical dispenser. His body had been purged of… something, he couldn’t tell what. But then, he figured it had to do with the chemicals surging through his veins. And yet, there was something… euphoric about them. Could it be that he was high?

Alistair lamented quietly. Yet another cage to bind him. It was one thing to be put under the needles of an over-enthused doctor with a penchant for drug cocktails. It is another to be trapped within the prison of his own mind, which was only spurred forward by the hallucinogens circling throughout his system.

He returns his attention to the room he was in. It seemed devoid of beauty. It’s walls a muted bleach white offset by the lack of furniture within the room while the floor was simply grey. It had a faded feeling to it, like the passage of time had done no favors for its hollowed interior. The room was an acute overture of blandness in its supreme moment. What little furniture was present, was clear of any well-wishing cards, flowers or even a boring magazine. If there were a word that would sum up the entirety of the room in its current condition, it would be sterile.

Other than the IV drip hanging over his head, there was a surprising lack of medical equipment within the room. The large glass door was shut with only the bustle of the nurses making any note of life within the hospital. The only other reprieve of the current situation was the moonlight casting a soft undertone within the room as its light reflected off the linoleum floor.

Alistair takes a moment to look at his hands before finding the big red button to call a nurse. Pressing it, he then reached over with a pale hand to open the first drawer of the bedside table, hoping against hope that there was something within that could sate his ever-increasing sense of boredom.

To his horror, there was nothing within. Sighing, Alistair rips the IV out before attempting to swing his legs over the bed.

Hm? He thinks as a he finally notices that there was a heavy weight pressing down on his lower half. Oddly, the blankets were also loose at the seams of his bed.

He lifts the covers slightly to see underneath. Shockingly the little Aamar girl from earlier was clinging to his legs. She was bound tightly by bandages yet was still firmly holding onto his lower half with the intent of not letting go.

He watched with a faint smile creasing his face as he could see the small rising and falling of her chest while her eyes were closed.

Sleeping, guess that means that I shouldn’t move for a while.

Putting the sheet back down, he noticed that there was a blinking icon in the corner of his vision. He signals for it to open and is greeted with a host of new messages.

Enhanced Human Conditioning Trait has been updated

due to new implant.

Hyperactive Lazarus Node:

Improves base ability cost

Improves Depletion rate

Improves genetic stability

Implant host rejection possibility: 32%

Trait Name:

Trait Type:

Trait Rarity:

Enhanced Human Conditioning

Innate

5

Your body has undergone a series of genetic and bionic changes that has accumulated into an enhanced physiology. With the cybernetic implants all over your body, with some supporting the bone structure, it would be difficult to defeat you without destroying the vital areas first. You require more energy than the average human in all situations.

(updated effects)

Strength, Agility, & Vitality have permanent +250 bonus Species peak Attribute potential has risen Stamina & Psion based abilities cost 10% more Stamina & Satiety depletion rate increased by 10%

Genetic stability:

43%

Hyperactive Lazarus Node

A gene sack that replaces the human appendix. Streamlines the body’s entire energy procession with factory-like precision. Extracts more nutrients and energy from any consumed materials and reduces the amount of raw energy in cells needed to function. A subsequent reaction of this is an increased base metabolic rate while storing excess energy, thereby refining a cell’s core functions to a superior state.

· Imparts Second Wind Skill

Skill Name:

Skill Rank:

Skill Level:

Skill Experience:

Second Wind

Beginner

1

0%

Overconsumption of nutrients or an overdose of energy can build a pocket of energy within the Hyperactive Lazarus Node that can instantly restore nearly all the user's stamina. These reserves can only hold a limited amount of energy. Repeated use of the Node using this Skill builds the maximum available energy.

Energy available: 0 / 100

· Stamina Regen stacks (1% per stack) increased per Energy point used

Max of 25 stacks = 25%

Lasts 10 sec and decreases as stack increases

· Once energy has begun to be used, energy must be purged completely before energy node can be refilled.

5-hour cooldown per full purge

Active, Buff

Interesting. Alistair thought as he flicked through them, thinking of all the tactical possibilities that could be utilized with the new skill he had gained.

Just as he was about to stare out the window for something to do, he catches an interesting pair of people rushing towards his room from the peripheral of his vision. He recognized Derek, the old man seemed to be a bit thinner than the last time he had seen him. Eyes held stress rings while the noticeable flair of fatigue veritably settled into his gait.

As for the other person, she seemed…doctorly. Like a researcher who only spends most, if not all, of her time within the labs experimenting on something. She still had the slight feminine grace to her, even though she seemed unhealthily pale under the bright lights of the hospital hallway. She had her ginger curls tied in a ponytail, allowing a clean look to grace her high cheekbones. Despite this, she seemed to look forward to meeting Alistair, seeing as her bright green eyes stared back at him halting his analysis of the doctor in question.

The pair reaches his glass door and promptly open it. Stepping inside, Derek begins to speak, but is halted as Alistair raises a hand. Both sides of the room remain quiet as Alistair sits up in the bed and watches the both of them.

The seconds’ pass by in relative awkwardness as all Alistair does is stare at them. No emotions leak out, not even a word of congratulatory praise seeing as he had somehow passed his surgery. The doctor glances between the two of them, wondering if there was some unspoken communication going on between them through psionic means.

A minute tics by as nothing happens within the room. Coming to the end of his rope as the tension had hit its peak for her, the doctor takes a step forward only to be met with an astonishingly cold question coming from Alistair.

“What in the nine hells did you do to me?”