Eldrath

*signed* See (hear) it here as well.

I'm not going down that road again. Fitz didn't read right, let's just leave it at that. The issue is that WITHOUT focus CoX is performing better than with focus, no matter the graphical setting.

Ok, second week's patch and still "Test" works while "Release" continues to show the problem.

I don't have another computer capable of running CoX, no.

As to different setups, both the Test and the Retail have trusted access through my firewall (Comodo). NVIDIA settings seem to only track by EXE not location of the file, so there's only one setting for both. The only things that are changed from the driver defaults are "Single Display Performance" (I use multiple monitors) from the mixed GPU/Multi-mon menu item and Triple Buffering which goes along with VSync. I've attempted to run single monitor and with these settings disabled, all at defaults with no improvement. Disabling Single Display Performance degraded the Test to the same as Release.

So for the moment, to the best of my ability both Test and Release have identical configuration. Also, I didn't mention it, but moving the Release to the background, i.e. stealing its focus, still gives it the performance boost back up to the level of the Test.

So today is patch day and... no joy. That's right, Test still works for me, Release still doesn't. *sigh* Maybe customer service will give me my money back for the month or something. Doubt it, but it's worth contacting them to make them say no. Very disappointing in any event.

Ok, several hours of re-download later and nope, i17 is borked. Test server is fine, but the release is non-functional (well, functional but not at a playable level). So I guess that's kind of good news. I mean there's a solution out there and as soon as they release it, I'm good. As soon as they release it... *sigh*.

Ok, so I decided to download the Test and see if the Training Room has the same problems. Guess what... it DOESN'T. No driver changes, no setting changes, no arcane rubbing my belly and while standing on my head with a mouthful of marbles and a cockatrice perched on my foot. It just freaking works. And to answer the priority question, it runs the same way as the retail release, above normal with focus, below normal without it. But the frame rates are identical with the test build. So I think I have my answer. i17 is borked and it's been fixed, at least my problem has been. Now if they'll just release the current build of the test, maybe I can actually play a little.

What I might do is do a completely fresh install of CoX. Perhaps something's been borked in my original install and when I downloaded the Test to a new location that problem was removed from the equation. Worth a shot.

I can confirm this as well. Running in windowed mode, better performance when focus is shifted out and the sound off. Return the focus and the sound comes back and the performance drops. It's dramatic as well, halves my FPS. Unfortunately, it's not something I can resolve with drivers. I've the most recent already. And to be honest, this doesn't seem like a driver issue to me. This is a bug, plain and simple.

I signed up for CoX again when I heard about i17, because I wanted to see what was up and what had changed. I was very surprised though to see a large performance drop (I used to get 25-30 now I get 10-15) even with the lowest settings. In investigating the problem, I discovered that if I switch to windowed mode and move focus from CoX to say this browser window, all of a sudden FRAPS reports that I'm back to my old FPS. Give CoX focus again and right back down it goes. So my question to the community is this, "What would cause an application given focus to have worse performance than when it was set to the background?" Ideas? And please, don't bother with the driver update solution. I've been at this a while, I've upgraded drivers to the most recent available for my hardware. Thanks in advance for any thoughts you might have on this issue.

Briefly: Dell M90, Quadro FX 1500M (yes, I know it's unsupported. I use this machine for more than play and it's always worked with CoX just fine., 2GB RAM, XP Pro SP3.

The fluorescent bulbs flickered from the ceiling and cast a sickly radiance over the lobby. A nondescript office on the whole, the GIFT co-ordination department betrayed nothing of its purpose. A collection of faux wood, padded chairs lined the walls, upholstered in a dirty burgundy-like felt. A few coffee tables with discarded magazines sprawled upon them sat in front of these. End tables with more periodicals and a few plastic plants flanked the uncomfortable chairs. A window for the receptionist opened on one wall, with a broad counter for filling out forms. Pamphlets sat up there in a small rack, each emblazoned in bright colors proclaiming help for anything from mutant normalization to home financial assistance for settling in Paragon City.

Rathi looked up at the wall clock and then down at her watch. Her mouth drew into an angry line. Four times in as many weeks she'd come downtown to this damn office and each time the story had been the same, a [censored] run around. It had been two months since she'd heard from her brother, Reny. Since the death of their parents the two of them had fought to keep hold of one another. To the institution's credit, GIFT officials had facilitated keeping the siblings close. They'd kept Reny in foster homes near the academy, allowing her to visit him regularly. However since her graduation and relocation to Paragon, her contact with the organization had become less obliging.

She'd understood, if she had not agreed with the determination of GIFT officials, that the agency needed to keep Reny in custody. She would have preferred that they turn him over to her own guardianship. Until recently though, she'd barely been able to support herself let alone a minor brother. Also, the officials still hadn't been convinced that Reny wouldn't manifest some sort of mutant ability. So her brother had remained in foster care, while Rathi had started trying to build a nest for him to land in once GIFT deemed him normal. His letters said he looked forward to when they would declare him an adult legally and no longer a ward of the state. For Rathi, dancing and studying had taken up a lot of her time, and if she was to be honest with herself, not a little bit of partying as she discovered her new found freedom. Still, she had kept in close touch with her little brother, writing him often, e-mailing every day from her terminal, and vid-phoning him whenever she could arrange to get through.

That had all stopped. No warning, no fight between siblings, nothing out of the ordinary. At first she'd just assumed Reny had been busy with school work. GIFT schools could be intensive, she knew, even for the normal kids. She'd gone about her business, not thinking much of it. A week went by and no call or message arrived. Annoyed, Rathi had contacted her GIFT liason, Michael Kendall. Mr. Kendall acted as if nothing was amiss. He smiled at her through the vid, his face an idyllic fatherly image with a trim graying beard and those smile lines around his eyes that make older men more handsome and older women insane as they try to cover them up. He assured her that Reny was well, just busy with a new series of tests and that she would be in contact with him again soon. Soon turned into another week though... and then another, with still no contact from Reny and no new information. When Rathi attempted to call Mr. Kendall back, she got shunted to voice mail or disconnected.

As worry began to bloom into paranoia, Rathi had escalated her efforts. She'd showed up at the downtown GIFT offices to speak with a representative in person. The agent was personable, sympathetic... and totally unhelpful. She had also been a trained ESPer. Not that Rathi suspected she knew a damn thing about what had happened to her brother. She wouldn't be able to pop her top though and rifle her mental records in any event. The agent simply apologized and turned Rathi around, pointing her at another branch of bureaucracy or another dead end voice mail. She contacted an attorney, but the fees for even sitting in an office with one would have flattened her bank account and she knew it. The lawyer knew it too, and soon he wasn't returning her calls either.

She almost couldn't believe this could be happening. GIFT couldn't just make her brother disappear could they? Apparently, if it was in the name of the public good, they could. The mutant regulation laws that allowed for incarceration of unsocialized or dangerous mutants left the determination of the status of a mutant up to the GIFT agency. Rathi used her contacts with other university students to pry into the statutes and the more she learned the more her heart sank. What if Reny had manifested something, a late bloomer? What if his psych-profiling had pegged him for trouble? He couldn't be in the Zig so quickly, she knew he couldn't. Did she really know that though? Rathi wondered and worried to herself. She had to admit the fact that she knew nothing, absolutely nothing. Any assumption about what GIFT could or would do had been blown to [censored] by the stone wall she found herself facing.

Rathi jumped at the feeling of a phone-vibration at her hip. Swearing to herself she pulled her cell from her belt and flipped it open. It chimed and displayed a number she didn't recognize. Rathi did recognize the face that smiled out at her from the small display, however. Karen Winger grinned back at her. Karen had been Rathi's best friend in Mutie School, a phaser and now if word was to be believed, an accomplished thief. Her friend had passed her psych evals with flying colors, which just went to show how worthless they were. She'd disappeared as soon as they'd gotten out of the academy and Rathi hadn't heard a word from her. It had hurt. Rathi had thought of Karen as a sister; they'd been inseparable. Now seeing her face on the small vid-phone she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

“Hey, babe,” Karen said, her voice sound warm and mischievous even through the audio compression garble of the phone, “you look like hammered dogshit.”

“Thanks a [censored] lot, Karen,” Rathi said, her expression souring as her brows lowered. She knew how she looked. Rathi had not slept well in days, the stress of the whole ordeal had been effecting everything. Her school work had been going into the toilet, her dancing wasn't pulling tips. She had huge bags under her eyes and her face was broken out worse than it ever had in school. Karen's face on the tiny screen frowned, looking remorseful and more serious by the moment. “Oh and thanks a lot for not giving me a word or a call the last several months too,” Rathi said and glared at Karen, her voice going acidic and venomous.

“I know! I know, Rathi! And you're right to be mad-” Karen began but Rathi cut her off.

“Damn right I am, you [censored]!” she hissed into the phone. A couple of the other patrons gave her a dirty look but Rathi ignored them. “Just ditch me and take off! Great friend you are.”

“Honey, please, let me explain-” Karen tried again, but Rathi continued on, tears starting at her burning eyes.

“And now they've taken Remy, and they won't tell me anything,” she half growled half sobbed. “How can they do this?” Rathi asked, not really speaking to Karen but the world around her and not expecting an answer.

“Taken Remy? Who's taken Remy, Rathi?” Karen's voice sounded concerned, but Rathi could feel herself boiling.

“Oh what the [censored]? Like you care, Karen? I mean you call me up on a lark and now you want to be all involved?! Right!” Rathi said with disgust. She thumbed the red button, hanging up the phone and put her head in her hands, openingly crying now. She ignored the buzzing of the phone in her lap. Karen could [censored] herself, for all she cared. Rathi felt and hand on her shoulder and her anger flared. Her head snapped up, white eyes locking on the agent's face was he stood over her.

“Miss Jonasen, is there something I can-” he began.

“You can get the [censored] out of my face!” Rathi roared. The agent felt the pulse before it hit him. The air seemed to harden in an arc in front him. He could feel it become dense and viscous, like taffy or rubber. Then it exploded at him. He tumbled end over end, rolling through the air and slammed into the wall with a crash. The couple of other people in the room gave a little screech of surprise and backed off from her. Rathi was on her feet, fists clenched. Horror and anger raged in her head. She'd struck him, a GIFT agent. They could throw her in the Zig for that. She knew now better than ever. She'd screwed up badly. As the agent staggered to his feet, glaring angrily at her, Rathi could hear the door to the main office open. She could feel the minds of the three agents slip out of it, flanking her.

“Ms. Jonasen,” said a female voice. It was out loud and in her head at the same time. She felt the push, lulling her, soothing, draining away her fury. She had to fight back the impulse to strike back, to push that voice from her head. “Ms. Jonasen... Rathi isn't it? We understand. You're upset. Let's just calm down. Come on back and we'll talk this over.” Fear clutched at Rathi's gut. A cold sweat broke out on her back and neck. She could feel the panic just below the surface and so could the agent. “Nothing going to happen, Ms. Jonasen. Just a talk. Just a sit down and a talk. You'll see.” Rathi looked at the woman's face. She was oriental, shorter than Rathi herself, a thin little thing with a boy's body and big brown eyes.

“No...” Rathi said, gritting her teeth. The woman frowned. Rathi felt the presure then. The soft touch in her head turned slowly into a fist. She felt her blood begin to pulse in her temples and a warm trickle ran down over her lips. Rathi's hand went up and she touched it, looking down at the red blood on her fingertips. Rathi hadn't even realized she was resisting. The two agents at either side of the woman stepped forward... and stopped. The air seemed to solidify around them and lifted them from their feet, slowly gliding them back till the bumped with a soft thud against the wall. “I don't want this,” Rathi said in a strained voice. The woman's brown eyes met Rathi's white ones.

“Neither... do... I... please, Eldrath. Submit.” Rathi could feel the woman's concern, her fear, not just for herself and her companions but for the woman before her, for Rathi herself. She was just another ESPer, just like Rathi, trying to do a job. She wasn't part of some conspiracy, she was just a person. Rathi let go and fell as the woman tripped her mind inside her head, dropping her into unconsciousness.

**

Rathi woke to a throbbing head in a detention cell. The room had the antiseptic smell of a hospital. Bright white tile gleamed on the walls under the harsh fluorescent ceiling lights. One of the two doors was open leading into a bath. Rathi blinked and looked about from where she lay on a thin foam mattress. She'd been dressed in a powder blue hospital gown and leggings. Her feet were bare. A coarse linen blanket thrown across her that did little to keep her warm. Her glasses sat on a small table along side her bed, along with a cup for water. Rathi looked down at her arm and wasn't surprised to see a small bandage taped there where she suspected they'd had an IV. Straps hung from the sides of the bed, but these hadn't been employed, for which she was thankful. Her bladder screamed at her as Rathi sat up and stumbled across the cold floor to the bathroom.

Quickly making her way to the komode, Rathi shimmied out of her thin pants and squatted to relieve herself. She sighed, elbows resting on her thighs, her head resting in her hands as she pissed. Her head still throbbed but it had receded to a dull ache now. Rathi finished and stood up to examine her face in the mirror. She looked wan, dark hollows showing beneath her prominent cheekbones. The white on white of her stare had long ago become commonplace to her, and no change was apparent there. Looking down, Rathi saw a few bars of soap wrapped as if she was staying at the Holiday Inn. A new toothbrush sat along side as well with a unopened travel sized tube of Crest. Despite herself, she chuckled at the absurdity of it. She was a “guest.” Of course.

Rathi kicked her hospital pants away and pulled the gown over her head, tossing it in the pile as well. Turning the taps on the shower, she tested the water with her wrist until it was hot enough to boil lobster. Then she hopped in. The steaming flood scoured her skin, washing away the last dregs of fog that clung about her mind at the same time. She turned slowly, luxuriating in it, feeling it as it flooded over her back and then down her chest. Stooping, she plucked one of the soaps from the dish inset into the wall, stripped off its wrapper and lathered up, covering herself in thick suds. Soon the water sluiced these down the drain as well. Rathi used two of the small shampoo bottles on her hair, taking her time and trying not to think about what was going to happen next. Crème rinse as well? She looked through the steam and plucked another small bottle up. They'd thought of everything. Rathi cut off the taps and pulled a thick towel from the rack next to the shower, blotting herself dry as best she could before reluctantly stepping back out of the bath.

Returning to the main room, she searched the cabinets for her clothes, but found nothing but fresh hospital attire. She pulled these on. Rathi had not finished for more than a minute when a knock came at the door. Someone had been paying attention apparently, Rathi thought and frowned eyes scanning the room for hidden cameras. The doorknob turned and a doctor, or at least a man who looked like a doctor, entered, followed by the little asian ESPer woman from the GIFT office. The woman met Rathi's eyes and their minds touched briefly.

Be calm, Rathi felt the woman's thoughts counseling her, whispering over her mind like a cool breeze.

Well [censored] her, Rathi thought back at her, she wasn't the one in the cage, Rathi was. She could feel the woman's sympathy, but it didn't help. Rathi knew she was a prisoner. It was just how badly she had [censored] herself she didn't know.

“Ms. Jonasen,” the doctor said in a friendly practiced voice. “How are we feeling today? Well I hope?” Rathi met the man's eyes. She'd become accustomed to getting a taste of the revulsion that people always felt when they got a good look at her eyes. The doctor though didn't resonate an iota of it. He'd likely seen thousands of stranger manifestations she supposed. Her milky orbs wouldn't be worthy of remark.

“I'm fine,” Rathi replied automatically, “better if I'm going to be allowed to go.” The doctor met her gaze for a moment then looked back down at his clipboard, making a few notes.

“I'm not sure that wise, Ms. Jonasen,” he said, sounding infuriatingly reasonable. “Your outburst in the GIFT office points to some psych-factors in your self control. I think releasing you on your own recognizance might be a bit premature , don't you?”

“I'm sorry,” Rathi said lamely, “I was upset, I-” she began, but she could see he wasn't really paying attention. He was here to inform her, not to be reasoned with. Rathi's eyes turned to the ESPer woman, but the agent's mind had been shut, revealing nothing for the moment. “Of course. You're right,” Rathi said finally, sounding defeated. The doctor nodded, holding his chart under his arm as her studied her face.

“I know this doesn't seem fair to you, Ms. Jonasen, but it really is for your own good. We need to help you control your emotions and thereby your powers, or you might hurt someone or do something that could land you in the Ziggurat. Neither of use wants that, do we?” It wasn't really a question, Rathi knew and nodded. “Good. I'm going to prescribe Aldantrin and Visox. Aldantrin is an neural re-uptake inhibitor. It will help even your moods, keep you stabilized. Visox is a mutagenic suppressant. It will keep your abilities dampened until you have a good working level of Aldantrin in your bloodstream. Then you can come off it, alright? We've used these two drugs together many times with very positive results.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Well then, Ms. Jonasen, I'd have no choice but to refer your case to the authorities. Your assault on GIFT personnel is a serious crime, as you well know. The law makes no distinction between assault with mutant abilities and assault with a deadly weapon. As that there were multiple witnesses to the event, I'm sure you would at least be looking at short term incarceration. But really, Eldrath,” he said in a very reassuring tone that came off entirely flat, “there's no need for that to happen. We want to help you. It would be a horrible waste to have a young lady with your talents locked away in a box. Bad for you, bad for us. Think about it.”

Rathi shook her head and smiled bitterly, “I don't need to think about it, Doctor. I'll do it.” He looked mildly surprised, but pleased that she was being so reasonable. Rathi met eyes with the asian woman again. The agent's face showed the briefest expression of suspicion and then relief.

“Good, the nurse will be in then in a few minutes with your medication. We'll keep you here for a week, to monitor your blood-work and make sure you are at a suitable dosage. Then we'll release you, provided you check in with us weekly for the time being. We'll need to verify that you're continuing to take the medication. You'll also need to speak with a counselor as part of your treatment.” He smiled at her again, that fake damn doctor's smile. She suspected he had two expressions, that happy friendly idiot one Rathi was being treated to now, and the grave “you have cancer” face that he used on her when he talked about referring her to corrections. The doctor and the agent took their leave, making their way to the door. Just before she'd made her way out, the ESPer woman stopped and turned back to Rathi, her expression thoughtful.

“I'm sorry we had to meet this way, Ms. Jonasen,” she said. It sounded genuine, and Rathi felt her guard let down so that she could see that it was. “As soon as I'm able, I'll arrange to bring you your things, if you would like. My name is Yan, Yutsuko Yan.” Rathi stared back at her for a moment, mistrust gnawing at her. Then she gave a little nod, garnering a smile from Agent Yan. The woman nodded back to her and slipped out, letting the door close behind her.

**

Rathi pushed the door to her apartment open, spilling light from the hallway into the flat. She flicked the switch on the wall in the entry way and the ceiling lamps flashed into life. Closing the door behind her, Rathi slumped against it, letting out a long low sigh. Through the shadows of her living room, she could make out the picture window and the city beyond. Small squares of light, broken up here and there by a passing silhouette, or a blue flash from a television.

“I'm home,” she whispered to the empty flat.

Her footfalls echoed down the hallway as she passed the kitchen. SHE's cleaning people had been in and the room was spotless, not a dish in sight. Two weeks, what would she tell Chas if she asked? “Locked up in the loony bin, boss,” she said out loud to herself and laughed. Her voice sounded brittle in her ears. Rathi crossed to the fridge and opened it. She took a tall bottle of wine cooler from the rack and popped the top, dropping the cap into the garbage under the sink. After a couple long swallows, savoring the fruity taste she put the chill bottle to her forehead. It still ached. Visox acted as a narcotic. The doctors had warned her to expect some minor symptoms of withdrawal as she came off it, hot flashes and headaches, maybe some nausea. They'd been on the money. Going on twenty four hours now and she felt like a large man had worked her over with a small hammer. Every muscle ached, every joint complained. Even her teeth hurt. All Rathi wanted to do was curl up under the covers of her bed and wait it out.

She swayed through the dark living room, passing the small end table where her phone sat. The red voicemail light winked at her conspiratorially from the handset's cradle. Rathi looked at it and then down the hall to her waiting bed. She hesitated then picked the handset up. Rathi thumbed the call button and entered her code.

“You have one message,” said the electronic voice in monotone. “November 15, 11:45 PM, from an unlisted number.” Another voice cut in, Karen's voice.

“Rathi, I can't talk on this line, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right, I shouldn't have just disappeared like that on you. I want to make it right between us. Can you meet me? Maybe at the “D”? I think I can help with your problem. Just show up there, alright, any night? I've friends who will be looking out for you. I'll get there when you are. I'm sorry about the cloak and dagger, hon. I'll explain soon. Love you.” The computerized voice broke in again, offering to save or delete the message. Rathi punched the delete button and hung up the receiver.

Her head throbbed again and Rathi swayed on her feet, leaning her shoulder against the wall. Her stomach churned. What could Karen want? Rathi's drug fuzzed mind could barely piece together the argument they'd had. She'd yelled at Karen, she knew that much. She'd have to apologize. She'd been so whacked out. That could happen tomorrow though, Rathi thought. For now, she would go to bed. Rathi stumbled down the hall way and then she poured herself onto the mattress. She fell asleep before her head hit the pillow and sprawled on the coverlet.

Rathi pulled the packing tape over the seam of the cardboard box with a tearing sound as the glue protested being unrolled from the spool. She flicked her wrist and the serrated teeth of the tape gun bit through the ribbon and freed it, then she smoothed it down flush with the side of the box. Just a few more things to pack, then she'd be ready to go, Rathi thought to herself and reached behind her to give her ponytail a tug, tightening it back down. Stray hairs hung in her face and she looked a little bedraggled, but happy. Along the wall near the door a half dozen cardboard U-Haul moving boxes had been stacked. They mostly contained clothes, street casual stuff and her costumes for her dancing work at Mani's, flashy sequins and silks stacked on top of the more alternative attire with its vinyl and latex. One box held a growing collection of school books: psychology, sociology mostly. Her stereo sat unpacked, belting out deep base dance rhythms while she danced about the small apartment in a pair of jeans, a half tee and sandals.

Rathi had been very surprised when Chastity as offered her a flat above SHE's facilities. She had not expected that type of generosity and had been taken aback by it. She also had been flabbergasted by how big the SHE headquarters were as Chastity had led her about the immense complex. Huge libraries, tech labs, occult facilities, transporters, fabrication stations, the sum total was daunting. She'd tried to not look like what she felt she was, a clueless young woman out of her league. Chas had spoken in her clipped British accent, one that Rathi had only heard in reruns of Monty Phython's Flying Circus and never heard spoken aloud by a real person. It made the whole thing all the more surreal, like she'd stepped onto some gigantic James Bond movie set.

Standing up, Rathi casually reached down and hefted the box with grunt. She knew she could have just moved it with her powers, but telekinesis still gave her massive headaches. Besides, never use powers for what you can do with muscle. she'd long ago decided. She'd seen people at GIFT's academy who used their abilities for every mundane little thing and while she supposed there wasn't anything wrong with teleporting a diet Coke from the fridge or floating up three stories to avoid the stairway, something about it irked her. Rathi noticed how people watched her and the other mutants like her. Their awe always mixed with a portion of fear and dash or two of envy. Of course on the other side of the equation, she'd seen more than her share of arrogance at GIFT academy. ESPers felt often felt the were better than their mundane fellows and the whole hero thing was just a nice face on that whole mind set. “Don't worry, we're here to keep you safe,” she thought with a mirthless smile on her lips. Only they wouldn't be, and Rathi knew it. For each crime the heroes stopped, ten succeeded. For every flashy save that made the news, there were a lot of sad brutal stories that would never even get a sound byte or a flash of hero-white teeth for the cameras.

The thought made her stop in the middle of what she was doing. She looked across the flat to the kitchenette. There on the counter sat Mrs. Madivoch casserole dish. Ever since she'd cleared out Rosewood of the Skulls, her neighbors had done all sorts of little things to show their appreciation. You wouldn't see a common stripper getting that type of warm reception, Rathi mused. Still, it touched her. She'd done it because this was her home. And now she was leaving. What would happen? They'd try to move back in of course. Bastards like that always crept in, they were like roaches. The thought of Mrs. Madivoch having to make her way through a drug paraphernalia strewn hallway again made Rathi sick to her stomach. She might have escaped King's Row, but Mrs. Madivoch and all her other neighbors hadn't. Rathi crossed to the bowl and picked the Pyrex dish up in her hands, running her fingers over the smooth glass. Then she turned to the door, opened it and stepped out into the hall, making for Mrs. Madivoch's apartment.

The change that had undergone Rosewood had been extraordinary, wrought mostly by the tenants themselves. Absentee didn't really cover the level of neglect that its owners had shown the complex. While the Skulls had reigned here, no self respecting tradesman would go near the place anyway. Wiring had been exposed, plaster cracked, pipes leaking and heat non-existent. In contrast, the hallway Rathi stepped into was clean and bright. Fresh orange paint covered the walls in warmth. The floor had been stripped down the stained baseboards and the old vomit soaked carpets torn up and discarded. A pair of youths from room 705, down the hall from her place, looked up from their sanding and smiled at Rathi as she passed. They watched her walk appreciatively, eyes fixed on the round curves of her backside, but didn't cat call or make lewd remarks. And when she turned to smile at them, they blushed happily and returned to working the floor. It was like this on every level of the building. The tenants freed of the fear had begun to change Rosewood into what it should have been in the first place, a home. Rathi skipped down the steps to the sixth floor and turned down the hall to 619, Mrs. Madivoch's room. She rapped on the door, the dish dangling in her free hand's fingers.

The face that opened the door looked like a wizened old apple, but had undergone a change similar to what had been working on the whole building. The old woman's visage split in a snaggled-tooth grin at the sight of Rathi and she opened to door wide. Several cats curled around her ankles, but the smell of cat urine had gone, replaced with a fresh clean scent of cleanser and potpourri. Mrs. Madivoch beckoned her in, hobbling in to her kitchen unit which had been repainted canary yellow. The worn taps had been serviced, stopping all the leaks. The stove scrubbed till it gleamed like it had when it had been first installed twenty years previous. The old woman bustled about the room, setting a kettle on and smiling through the black stubble that poked out around her wrinkled mouth. She waved a gnarled hand to the table and Rathi pulled out one of the rickety stools and sat down.

“So you'll be leaving soon,” Mrs. Madivoch said more than asked as she took a pair of tea cups from one of the cupboards, along with a pair of saucers. She laid these on the table and then looked around, squinting through a her thick spectacles for the sugar bowl, which looked like a fat tabby cat and was perched next to a battered old microwave. She carried it to the table and set it down as well and then slumped into a high backed chair slowly, her spine paining her. Rathi nodded, answering her remark. “Good, good. Place like this is no place for a smart girl like you, Rathi. You're right to get out of here.” Mrs. Madivoch reached across the table and took Rathi's smooth bronze fingers in her own pale hoary ones. Rathi looked at the crone's hand, a feeling of guilt twisting in her gut. “So,” Mrs. Madivoch continued, “did you like the casserole?” The old woman nodded toward the empty dish.

“It was delicious, Mrs. Madivoch-” Rathi began, but the old woman cackled cutting her off.

“You call me Rose, dear, no need to be all proper,” the old woman said and winked. On the stove the kettle began to whistle shrilly. Rathi rose and crossed to it, turning the dial to kill the flame and then grabbed an old tattered oven mit from the wall and carried the hot kettle over to the table. The water steamed, sending wafts of vapor up to the ceiling as she poured each glass almost full. Mrs. Madivoch reached across the table and taking a large jar that sat in the center by the lid, she turned it and popped it open. “Lemon Zinger?” She asked holding the jar with it's assorted teabags out to the young woman. Rathi reached in and plucked a teabag out.

“What this one?” she asked and held it out to the old woman to sniff. Mrs. Madivoch took a long drought of air and then sighed with a smile, looking like a blissful dwarf.

“Bengal Spice,” she croaked happily, “one of my favorites. Try it, try it.” The old woman waved her hand motioning for Rathi to drop her teabag into the cup before her. Then she fished out a bag for herself and dropped it into her own steaming cup.

“Rose?” Rathi said, with a perplexed look as the old woman screwed the lid of the jar back on tight and returned it to the centerpiece, “Why do you mix them all together like that? Wouldn't be easier to pick the one you want if you kept them separate?” The old woman grinned, showing her black and yellow teeth and laughed.

“Where would be the surprise in that, girl?” she asked, chuckling with a thick phlegmy sound. The old woman coughed thickly and then sat back still grinning. Rathi nodded, watching her with concern, but Mrs. Madivoch just waved her away. “Drink your tea, dear. It should have steeped up by now.” The old woman lifted her own cup to her lips and sipped at it with a soft slurping sound. Rathi couldn't suppress a smile as she watched her. Finally, Mrs. Madivoch lowered her glass and gave a little sigh of pleasure. “Mint Magic.” she said contentedly.

Rathi nodded, looking into her own cup distractedly as the scent of cloves and ginger spirals out of it, and the old woman clucked her tongue. “Now, what's that look for,” she said with an accusatory tone, “You look like you're going off to the salt mines.” Mrs. Madivoch chuckled. “Out with it, girl!”

“What's going to happen to you... to this place, when I'm gone, Rose?” Rathi asked, lifting her eyes to to old woman's rheumy ones. Mrs. Madivoch looked back for a long moment and then sighed. She rubbed her bulbous nose and then looked Rathi in the face again.

“Eldrath Jonasen, that's not your problem,” she said sternly. “You done enough here already, more than anyone's done for this place in years. You don't owe none of us nothin'. I know you're different, you got them powers and you can do a lot of good, but you remember, Rathi, you're just one person, honey. You ain't got to save the world. You be happy. We'll get by, you'll see. An I expect you to be back here on weekends for pie.” Rathi laughed, and wiped her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks and Mrs. Madivoch pushed herself out of her chair and crossed over to her enveloping her in a squishy armed hug. Her bristlely lips kissed Rathi's cheek. “You're a good girl, Rathi. Now finish your tea and maybe we can have a few cookies before you have to go.” Rathi sniffed and nodded her head.

“I'd like that,” she said.

The smell always struck Eldrath when she walked into Mani's Gentleman's Club. The cigarette smoke got into everything, your hair, your clothes, even your skin. Sometimes after a show, Eldrath would go back to her apartment and just stand under the shower for a half an hour trying to get rid of the stink. She'd quit smoking about six months ago, when she'd come to Paragon. It amazed her how she'd been able to handle the smell of it back then as opposed to now. She couldn't believe how much she hated it and the sick feeling of longing it gave her when she walked into the place. A lot of bars had gone smoke free over the past few years she knew, but no one was going to get the ordinances changed here in King's Row. The suburb bordered on being a demilitarized zone, a cluster of the poor and poverty stricken mixed in with the lower working class families just trying to get by.

The smoke hung in the poorly lit room, cut into brightly colored beams and streamers by the flood lights near the three runways that Mani's girls used for their shows. A long “U” shape counter surrounded each stage, with a collection of stools for the patrons who liked to be close to the action. Behind those, a series of small four seater circular tables sat where the girls who weren't dancing waited on customers. The bar sat near the door, a long, track lit affair with tall shelves behind it displaying every brand of cheap liquor and quite a few of the more pricey ones: Patron, Thor's Hammer, and some more obscure ones in languages Eldrath didn't know and couldn't pronounce. The counter looked to made of stained cherry but wasn't. You could see were the laminate had lifted and bubbled under one too many spills, revealing the cheap press board underneath. Not that it mattered to Mani's clientèle. The folks who came into the club weren't there for the decor after all.

Following the line of the bar back into the club, a patron would come to restrooms. The public ones were a fairly ghastly affair. They got cleaned every night religiously by some poor migrant kid that couldn't have been older than fifteen and should have been at home sleeping in preparation for school. Instead, here he was cleaning up some looser's spunk from the tiles in the stall. What a waste, Eldrath thought to herself when she'd see him coming out of there after close. Still you had to have money to live. It didn't make it any less depressing. Hector, that was the kid's name, had a good head on his shoulders, he was quick. Eldrath had decided that he needed to go to college, even if it was just the local community variety. She made it a point to rib him about it every chance she got, turning on the charm and accenting it with the T&A to make the message stick in his subconscious. She hoped she'd gotten through to him. It made her feel better about working there to think she had.

School actually had been, and was still, her reason for taking the job at Mani's... or money for school to be more precise. GIFT paid a housing stipend to ESPers, so long as they maintain their registration and make themselves available for consulting. They offered to most potent psychics positions in the agency, that or rooms at the Zig for the rebellious powerful ones. There were too many minor ESPers to keep on government payroll though, by far. So upon graduation, Eldrath had found herself with a shiny new mutant registration card and high school diploma and no clue on what she wanted to do with her life or how she was going to make a living. She'd moved into the GIFT maintained a transition dormormitory (they keep them in all the cities that GIFT maintains offices in) into a shared suite with five other women and started looking for a job and an apartment. Correction, an apartment she could afford, which in Paragon pretty much amounted to King's Row.

Eldrath had found a flat that was on the seventh floor of Rosewood Condominiums. The name would fool a casual observer reading the classifieds into thinking they'd found one of those living units for the rich and single, but Rosewood actually was a failed housing project. The lower floors housed a stunning variety of the working poor, addicts and not a few squatters. The upper stories had been claimed by a ring of Skulls, one of the local street gangs. The gang bangers cooked Supradine up on the seventh and top floors, a kind of mix of PCP and crack, highly addictive, brain destroying poison that they sold on the street corners around Rosewood for ten bucks a hit. The sad thing was that this was one of the better places she'd found in her housing search. Eldrath had moved in quietly, not looking for trouble and for the most part finding none, at least initially. Drug dealers didn't care about you if your weren't competition or customer after all. They did however have a taste for attractive young women.

It had happened fast, when it did finally happen. Eldrath had been climbing the steps up to her flat, carrying a bag of groceries up the many staircases. One thing that was good about the building, it kept her in same, she thought. The holes dotted the walls of the stairwell punctuated with gang tags and symbols in big psychedelic lettering that covered what remained of the wall. As she turned the corner on the third floor Eldrath had passed Mrs. Madivoch, a little old Russian woman with a thick black mustache that looked like caterpillar hiding under her nose. She'd had greeted Mrs. M as she always did. Mrs. M for her part had replied with her signature grunt, which wasn't friendly or unfriendly, more a simple acknowledgment of one's presence. Then Eldrath had had the stairwell to herself again until she reached the sixth floor.

Two Skulls stepped into view on the stairs above Eldrath, casually as if they'd just been on there way down to the corner. Their faces had been painted in that white stage makeup all the Skulls wore. It made their visages into a death's head, rictus-like mask. One of the gang bangers had short, buzzed-cut blond hair and the other oily black, slicked back over a round skull. They wore tattered black band tee's, faded blue jeans and combat boots. They didn't say a word, but remained quiet as stones, just standing blocking her way. Eldrath's hackles rose up, goose flesh prickling the hair at the nape of her neck and making her bowels go watery. If this had been a coincidence, she knew, she would have heard them before she saw them, joking and laughing on the steps above her. They had been laying in wait... waiting for her. The sound of a boot scuffing clumsily on the steps behind her made Eldrath turn. Two more Skulls had appeared on the stairs below her, both looking up at her with lewd smiles that made their painted faces appear even more horrific. Then slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, they closed with her from above and below.

She'd reacted on instinct, terror spurring her mind as she lashed out with her power to push the nearest one back. The gangbanger's eyes went wide as his unconscious erupted like a volcano, suffocating his mind with a deluge of memories and nightmares. He clutched his head trying to blot it out but the surge wouldn't let him do anything but shake as his bowels let loose and he soiled himself. His partner looked at him with surprise and then he turned back to Eldrath, his eyes blazing with fear and a Superadine induced fury. She felt the other two Skulls rush up from behind her, more than she saw them. Their minds blazed with anger, lust and madness. She spun as hands grabbed her arms, slamming her to the wall and pinning her in place.

The two Skulls laughed and ripped her short tee, exposing her dark latin skin and the white bra underneath. One slapped her hard and she saw stars while she felt the other grope her pulling the undergarment down and exposing her. Eldrath's head swam, her head pounding from the use of her gift and the slap that was already raising a mouse like a goose egg on her cheek. She looked into the face of the man who was fondling her locking his gaze with her white within eye eyes. His own were baby blue, like chips of slate streaked with broken blood vessels from the drugs that had overloaded his flesh and fried his mind. She slipped behind them, using his lust as a conduit, like an elevator down into his psyche. Tendrils of her will sparked synapses and she felt his grip relax as his emotions shifted. Desire, jealousy, lust... just a little push and he was letting her go, staring with hatred at the other man holding her. A knife flashed into his hand and he stabbed. Blood sprayed out over the floor, over her over everything as he stabbed and stabbed. He took the man other man down to the ground where he continued she slash and cut in jealous rage.

The last gang banger looked on in horror, his pistol now in his hand. He pointed the gun at Eldrath's head and pulled the trigger. The sound shattered the air in the hallway, sounding more like a cannon than a pistol. Eldrath flinched away from the muzzle flash, but felt the bullet pass harmlessly to her left and embed itself in the wall. He fired again and again, each time the field of scintillating air about her turning the bullet aside easily. Eldrath raised her hand and she felt the power flow her like an eruption. It yanked the gunman from his feet and tossed him like rag doll over the edge of the banister and down the stairwell, spinning end over end. He shrieked as he fell and then his voice was cut short as his skull struck one of the landings three stories down and shattered like an egg. Still croched beside her, the incensed murderer looked up at Eldrath with face full of insane adoration. He held out his blood covered arms in supplication for her to take him. Eldrath's stomach lurched at the sight of the gore that covered his arms and she lashed out again, the shockwave of her thought knocking him unconscious.

Eldrath had stood in the stairwell for about fifteen minutes, shaking, adrenaline withdrawal making her weak. Her head had felt like it would split in two from the effort of defending herself. She'd touched her hand to her nose and come away with red blood, lots of it. She'd staggered in a daze to her room, leaving her groceries on the blood soaked steps. The police had found her there about three hours later when they finally arrived, standing in her shower under the hot water with her eyes closed. They'd let her dress and then taken her in for questioning, putting her into the back of the police cruiser while she'd watched them take the bodies of the two dead Skulls out to the coroner's wagon.

She been charged with double homicide, charges which had been summarily dropped when a GIFT PK had supplied the evidence from the remaining Skulls' minds about their attempt to [censored] her. She'd been released on her own recognizance, pending formal dismissal or the charges but it was a formality. Eldrath had returned to Rosewood and the gang had not bothered her again... yet. The Skulls gave her a wide berth as the stories had circulated over the next few weeks and soon the rest of the seventh floor of the Rosewood Project was empty, save for their abandoned drug kitchens and the refuse they'd left. Tenants saw it as a reprieve from the blight that terrorized their building. Eldrath had been surprised to find small gifts, mostly baked goods from some of the old tenants, left surreptitiously outside her door.

The terror of the incident had pushed the necessities of life back for a short bit, but they presented themselves in the form of her bills over the next couple weeks. Eldrath had thought a lot, sitting along in her apartment. She'd thought mostly about those young men's minds she'd touched, two of which now were dead, two who still sat in the King Row's Clinic for the mentally disturbed. They'd been not so much older than her. She sat awake at night, looking out her window at the alleyway and the vagrants who picked the dumpsters clean.

It was then she decided that she had to get out of that place, as soon as she could, by any means she could. She contacted the University in Steel Canyon, but the tuition could have paid her rent three times over and far exceeded the stipend GIFT supplied. Eldrath didn't have the grades for scholarship and the government had stripped the loans programs to the bones years ago. Work study could have been an option, but the competition for the few programs there were was fierce. In high schoo, Eldrath had never even thought to apply. Now deadlines had passed and she was adrift.

That had been where she was when she stumbled on Mani's. At first Eldrath had balked at the idea, but her rational mind quickly picked apart her feeble moral arguments against dancing at the club. The fact was she could make enough money to pay her tuition, maybe to move into a better neighborhood, and do it all in a few nights of a couple hours work, with plenty of time for study. It just made too much sense, and so she enrolled in what she jokingly came to call the Mani's Scholarship Program for Sensually Gifted. She danced, three nights a week, pulling in about five hundred dollars a night on good nights. School was paid for with a little left over for savings. And for the first time in her young adult life, she felt independent. She was standing on her own. Not exactly as she might have imagined it, and she doubted her parents would have been particularly pleased, but that didn't matter. She'd done it, herself and that was enough.

The overhead lights flickered, their fluorescent bulbs giving off a sickly blue green light that made the sunlight streaming through the blinds all the more distracting for their lack of warm. Eldrath looked at the wall clock, it was third period right before lunch break, mathematics with Dr. Penrose. Like all of the teachers at GIFT Academy, Denise Penrose shared something in common with her students, she was a mutant. Denise's mental faculties had been enhanced by her genetic aberration, giving her the equivalent of a quantum supercomputer inside her skull. She'd been identified as a prodigy at the age of five, done her first doctoral dissertation by age nine and obtained advanced degrees in quantum physics, mathematics, and genetics by the ripe old age of fifteen.

One might very well wonder why such a wunderkind would be teaching basic mathematics to a group of unruly teenagers, even a group as unusual as those that attended GIFT Academy. The answer though would not have satisfied, because it was so simple. She liked it. Working with the kids, trying to engage them pulled her out of the whirlwind that normally twisted in Denise's head, forcing her to slow down and be in the moment. Before her parents had discovered her gift, she had been isolated from them and everything else, a diagnosed autistic. There had been simply too much going on behind the young Denise's eyes for her to pay much attention to what was happening outside herself. Denise remembered how alone she had felt because of her difference and she worked hard to reach these kids in their own personally made mental prison cells.

Not that they were all a joy to teach. Far from it. Mutant teenagers were teenagers like any others, they just could make thing blow up when they had outbursts as opposed to simply storming about metaphorically. Especially when they first came to the school, young mutants had little control over their abilities. They usually had to be tutored one on one, or for the more dangerous youths a whole team on one, until some basic controls could be established. GIFT staffed several PK5's, highly skilled telepaths, specifically for the management and control of difficult students. These psychics could slip behind mental barriers and trigger defense mechanisms that shut down the students mutant powers based on the student's own self preservation instincts. Then gradually, a student could be trained to engage those processes consciously. Once they had become proficient enough to pass what GIFT administration termed as “competency,” the student would then be transfered into to the general population.

Getting them back into the population and socialized was GIFT's second priority after control. Studies had shown that by the time a mutant had reached the age of eighteen, the foundational patterns of psyche had been laid down. If a connection to the social group of their peers and by extension their fellow man had not been established, the subject would likely go rogue, seeing humanity as beneath their concern. Once that had occurred, the best that could be hoped for was containment. Sociopathic behavior among mutants was all too common on the streets of Paragon City. In some extreme instances, GIFT would never allow a young mutant back into society, transferring them directly to the Ziggurat, Brickstown Penitentiary for Supernormal Threats. Such occurrences remained regrettable, but necessary in some cases.

Eldrath lay with her head on her desk, staring at where the sunbeam came through the glass and pooled atop the radiator. She wanted to be out in it, sun bathing. Daydreams flowed through her head, images of lounging by the pool, the sun warm on her bare back while she read her latest dime store drama. She liked those little fluff books, going through one series after another with the voracious appetite of a kid eating twinkles. They offered an escape from the compound, if only into her imagination. She could be out there in some glamorous city, having tawdry love affairs with handsome but nefarious and sexy men, solving crimes... or committing them depending on the book, as opposed to hanging out in this warehouse for mutant misfits, where there were poked and prodded and measured and managed every second of the day.

Eldrath lifted her head and returned her attention to the screen as Dr. Penrose went over the trigonometry homework from last night for the third time... for the slow students. You couldn't get away with much in Penrose's class. Hypermind, as they called her behind her back, had an uncanny knack for knowing when your attention had wavered and she would unerringly pick you out and embarrass you. She would call you up to the board to stumble over the problem you'd missed the solution to moments before. Despite this however, Eldrath liked Dr. Penrose's class. At least the mathematics professor didn't treat them like kids. She challenged them, often leaving them feeling frustrated and defeated. Dr. Penrose didn't pull any punches. She didn't give them the illusion that their problems could be solved quickly or easily. That suited Eldrath, more than she knew.

She'd been at the school for four years now, since her parents had died in the car accident in Western Falls. In six months Eldrath would turn eighteen, legally an adult and technically free, assuming she could pass her psych evaluations, which at the moment didn't seem all that unlikely. GIFT would keep Remy in custody for the time being, though he'd not manifested so much as a flicker of mutant ability since she and her brother had been taken. Grandma Huish had tried to gain custody of her two grandchildren after the accident but the government had stepped in, in the best interests of the community and the children. It had enraged Eldrath. As soon as she'd realized what the outcome was going to be, she'd gathered her brother and they'd made a break for it. They'd gotten about a quarter of a mile before the PK's found them. The GIFT agents had been kind about it, but kind or not a prison was prison as far as Eldrath was concerned. To add insult to injury, GIFT had split her and her brother up, sending Remy to a normals school at the local military base while Eldrath had been sent to board at GIFT Academy with the other freaks.

Eldrath had acted out. All of the students did in one way or another. GIFT Academy had its collection of cutters, druggies, sluts and burnouts, like any high school. Eldrath had grown into a striking young woman in her time at the school and quickly gained a reputation for being a fun study partner when it came to matters of reproductive biology. The troublemakers couldn't keep their exploits from the PK's of course. They were all subject to regular telepathic screening, but it became a point of pride to see if you could surprise a PK with your transgression. Such occurrences remained rare, PK's being fairly jaded, but you could get the occasional brow raise or maybe even a small smile. You had to be careful however, because if you went too over the top, the interviewing PK would refer you to intervention. So the miscreants of GIFT Academy played a balancing game, testing the boundaries and learning from previous students mistakes.

Something hit Eldrath in the back of the head in a rapid fire percussion of tiny smacks and she turned around to glare behind her. Martin Peterson, or Mad Marty as they called him, was sitting three rows behind her looking innocent, which immediately identified him as the culprit of the spit wad volley. Mad Marty's power lay in body kinetics. He could increase the speed his motion and reaction time, moving faster than the eye could see. Eldrath met his eyes and Marty smiled a Cheshire cat grin. Beside him, Danny Bleoch chuckled watching the exchange. Danny's hair hung long over the left side of his face, his limp mohawk laying across his head like the world's most gigantic comb over. The two were bosom buddies, part of Eldrath's clique, but often her nemesis in class just the same. Eldrath rolled her eyes in disgust at them and brushed the wads of paper from her hair with her fingers while they snickered back and forth.

“Ms. Jonasen,” Dr. Penrose said sounding annoyed. Eldrath cringed turning back to face front and the teacher, who now stood looking up from her tablet glaring at the young woman over her square rimmed spectacles. “If you've quite finished have your little exchange with Mr. Peterson and Mr. Bleoch, perhaps you could come up here and solve this trigonometric identity for us.” Snickering sounded behind her as Eldrath rose, smoothing her short plaid skirt down over her hips and trying to summon some sense of dignity and poise as she took her place at the front of the room. Dr. Penrose glanced with a knife slash look at the two boys and they went silent. Eldrath picked up the marker and started writing out the equation with tiny squeaks of the felt pen. Though she had indeed not been paying attention, Eldrath didn't have much problem manipulating the formula. Dr. Penrose smiled and Eldrath took her seat again, making sure to give Marty and Daniel the finger discreetly as she did so. “Paybacks are a [censored],” she mouthed. The pair of hooligans just made faces at her of mock terror.

Period bell rang and it was off to lunch. The students jostled in the halls with a roar of laughing voices as they made their way into the cafeteria. Eldrath funneled into one of the two lines and pulled a tray from the rack, placing it on the rails to slide along with her. She eyed the meatloaf dubiously, choosing instead to assemble a hero sandwich out of cold cuts, with some lettuce that didn't appear too terribly wilted and some of the institutional bland swiss without the holes in it. She plucked a bag of spicy potato chips from the rack, a can of diet soda and a gooey chocolate granola bar that she could pretend was not candy due to the presence of oats within it.

Eldrath sat with the troublemakers clique, consisting of Mad Marty, Danny, Cheryl Futterman, Michael Dolhov, and Karen Winger. Marty generally styled himself the leader of their little group. His with his short crop of red hair and his puckish grin, Marty's speed matched his impish joviality. Marty always came up with the craziest schemes to alleviate the boredom of living at Mutant High, as the students called the GIFT Academy. Danny on the other hand, with his punk rock good looks and his bad boy image, was the school rebel without a clue. Why god had graced Danny with so much sex appeal and so little brains, Eldrath could not figure out for the life of her. His power, Exothermy, allowed him to release and direct energy from the air around his body. The display of pyrotechnics was impressive and he used it to great effect, showing off for girls making explosions to punctuate his bands performances. Cheryl, a petite little mousy girl with blond hair that she kept forever in the most Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island style braids, acted as the group's lookout for their clandestine activities, being a Clairvoyant. Michael Dolhov, and ogre of a young man some seven foot tall and at least 400 pounds of pure muscle (a genetic gift from his father a pro-wrestler) took the role of master planner. Where Marty might come up with the crazy scheme, he always turned to Michael for the plan of how to pull it off. For his part, Michael generally played up the dumb oaf image, but his test scores told the truth. Michael Dolhov could give Dr. Penrose a run for her money. Finally Karen Winder, Eldrath's best friend and confidant since she'd come to Mutant High, took the role of thief. Karen was a phaser by slang lingo. The official name for her gift was Quantum Transport or some such. What it amounted to was that Karen could pass her body through solid objects as if they weren't there. Finally, Eldrath herself rounded out the misfits as their PK-lite. Through subtle mental pushes, Rathi could misdirect and obfuscate their activities. Need the guards to take a nap on duty? No problem. Need a professor to forget your homework was late? Easy as pie.

It was generally assumed by the other cliques, the Young Paragons and the ESPers and such, that they would be facing the troublemakers at sometime in the future on opposite sides of the law. There was definitely an “us” against “them” mentality among some of the more traditional groups, like the Yips. Eldrath and her friends called the Young Paragons the Yips as a way to taunt them, comparing them to the sound that terrified little ineffectual guard dogs make. The Paragons for their part, simply referred to the troublemakers as “The Psychos” or “The Misfits.” It was a label they wore with pride. Tension between the groups rarely escalated beyond pranks, but when it did the results could be spectacular. Danny had been placed under psych probation recently, when a group of Paragons had taken it into their heads to have a game of monkey in the middle with Cheryl's textbooks a few months before. The idiot had damn near destroyed the west wing locker corridor and GIFT PK's had had to knock him out and put him into intervention. Intervention in this case had meant intensive telepathy conditioning sessions and isolation, AKA solitary. A lot of good it had done with Danny's thick skull, Eldrath thought. He would be very lucky to pass psych eval and not be shipped directly to the Zig for containment come graduation.

Eldrath sat down in her group's regular corner of the café. Their table had a view of the main courtyard of the school, a very collegiate vista. Students between classes or on off periods strolled through large lush green lawns, reclined on blankets (or floated above them), and took in the air. Eldrath sighed wanting to be out there among them, but her first off period didn't start until fifth. She still had “Field Manipulation, Theory and Applications” after lunch, which meant another good hour and a half of lost sun. Karen patted her knee comfortingly as she caught the direction of Eldrath's gaze, and Eldrath smiled at her.

Karen had been the life line fate had thrown Eldrath when Rathi had landed in the school. The two had been pretty much inseparable, sharing everything, even a few boyfriends in their time. Karen had a boyish look, not quite butch, she was too waifish for that, but she kept her hair short, in a spiky thatch of brown, blond and black, gelling it up to maximum “sea urchin” as Eldrath called it. Slender in the hips with little or no breasts to speak of, Karen was about as opposite from Eldrath's va-va-voom physique as two girls could be. She had a fair complexion with a smattering of freckles in contrast to Eldrath's dark rusty latin skin tone, inherited from her father's Irish descent as well as her large bright blue eyes. Karen always seemed to pull in the boys that Eldrath would have preferred to date, where as Eldrath herself always attracted guys looking for a booty call. Some days, she didn't mind that. To be honest most days, she didn't. It made her feel good to turn heads in the halls, but she was jealous of Karen none the less. Guys wanted to get into Eldrath's pants, but they fell in love with Karen seemingly at the drop of a hat. Karen always got the devoted ones, the guys that bought flowers, the boys that remembered special days, who bought you cards and held your hand in the hallway.

“Just a couple more hours, hon,” Karen said reassuringly, “then we're free for the weekend. You going to the flix tonight?” She picked up a plum and bit into it with obvious relish. Eldrath nodded taking a sip of her soft drink to wash down mouthful of her sandwich. The school ran movies for the upperclassmen on Friday and Saturday evenings. Besides dances and sporting events, the closed campus offered little else in the way of entertainment and so the films were always well attended.

“I'm going with Carlo, you?” Across the table, Marty and Daniel made retching noises at the mention of Carlo's name and Karen and Eldrath gave them dirty looks. Carlo Montega ran with the ESPers, a group of young PKs that tried to maintain some semblance of neutrality between the waring cliques. He and Eldrath had begun dating about a month ago, after Carlo had begun tutoring Eldrath in her psionic techniques. Their combined make out/study sessions had become grist for the abuse mill once Marty and Danny had found out about them. Now Carlo couldn't be mentioned without a whole collection of vulgar and perverse comments being made, in or out of his presence, which made Eldrath want to crawl in a hole and die... or perhaps seal the two idiots in the hole till they suffocated. The later seemed preferable at the moment.

“Nah,” Karen shook her head, “me an Allen broke up.” Eldrath winced and reached out to squeeze her friend's hand.

“You should come with us then,” Eldrath said, trying to sound chipper. Karen grimaced and smiled at the same time.

“I don't know, Rathi, I mean that's your date night-” The two idiots started up with more gagging sounds and hand miming of fellatio, from the peanut gallery. Eldrath glared and Marty and Danny fell silent again, snickering,

“Oh, Carlo can just deal,” Eldrath continued, ignoring Marty and Danny pointedly. “You shouldn't have to spend the night alone in your dorm room-”

“We'll keep you company, Karen,” said Danny and grinned at Marty, winking lewdly. Karen and Eldrath met eyes and each raised an eyebrow almost in sync. Eldrath pushed with her mind, just a gentle tap, and there was a soft crash as lunch utensils went flying and food spilled from Marty and Danny's trays as they keeled over asleep. Karen giggled and Eldrath gave her a wicked grin putting her finger to her lips.

“Hush, it's nap time,” she said and pushing herself to her feet carried her tray arm in arm with Karen, leaving Marty and Danny with their lunches cooling wetly in the laps while they slept.

((A couple more scenes, later in Eldrath's life.))

**

“I don't know why we always have to go to your folks' house for the Fourth,” Bill said continuing the argument. It had started before they had left the house and been picked up about every twenty miles or so as they continued down the highway. It had been a poor week for Eldrath. The general tension that always hung in the air between her parents had thickened in the July heat to a miasma of open contempt and insults, punctuated by long moments of angry silence. Why don't they just get divorced, she wondered to herself. Posts whipped by as she watched out of the window, eager for any distraction. Beside her in the other side of the back seat Remy, her brother, played with his Game Boy. The beeps and clicks of the toy punctuated her father's cursing and her mother's sniping. Eldrath let her fore head lay on the window. It felt warm despite the air conditioning in the car.

They were goin to Grandma Huish's house, her mother's mother. Grandma Huish was a fat old toad of a woman, morbidly obese and almost an invalid. As it was she got around her house on a power assisted sled, her legs unable to carry her immense bulk for more distance than the sofa to the cart or vice versa. Grandma Huish at least though was always happy to see Eldrath. Her fat face always beamed with joy and she always had a hug and kiss for her. Despite being thirteen and wholly above such demonstrations of vulgar affection, Eldrath secretly loved those hugs. Grandma Huish always smelled of cinnamon cookies and hugging her felt like being enveloped in warm marshmallow.

Grandma Huish had never approved of Eldrath's father. Too much like her own husband, not imaginative enough nor entrepreneurial enough for her daughter. Grandma Huish always hoped her daughter would have made a better life for herself than she herself had, but Gloria had made similar mistakes. At least Bill had stayed with her, unlike Gloria's father. Not that Eldrath was convinced that was such a blessing. Eldrath's relationship with her father existed on two sides of a coin. The first, resentment, stemmed from how trapped Bill felt because of her and her sister. Though the tradition had fallen out of fashion well before Bill himself was born, Eldrath's father took responsibility seriously, even if he did resent it. He'd brought those kids into the world, and he would see them grown and healthy. The second, the love her felt for his children, always seemed tempered by the first. The affection was genuine, but Eldrath couldn't help but feel that often, when they'd be at one of her dance recitals or perhaps at a school function, that her father didn't want to be there. She'd catch his eye, and he'd be staring far away.

Gloria was similarly distant, but for different reasons all together. Eldrath's mother was a pill junkie. Oh not reds, or uppers, or ludes, nor anything of the like. Gloria's drug usage wasn't recreational, it was medical. She took a cocktail of anti-depressants daily to fight back the reality of her bleak marriage. Consequently, Gloria often seemed just a bit out of focus to Eldrath, like she was only 90% awake at any given moment. She couldn't be trusted to remember things, wasn't employed, and spent most of her time watching game shows and soaps sitting on the couch while her back brain circled on itself like a shark, tearing bits from her self esteem and gulping it down.

Grandma Huish knew all this well enough. She'd watched for the fourteen years her daughter had been wed to Bill. She'd seen the two of them deteriorate into calloused shadows of the bright young people they'd been and it had horrified her. So Grandma had become damage control. Eldrath didn't know it, but the old woman planned every visit to maximum effect, bolstering the kids with attention and love and trying to draw her parents into every encounter to get them out of their shells of self-absorption and self pity. Grandma Huish might be a weak woman when it came to sweets and exercise, but she was a wise one as well. Eldrath often wished she could just go live with her grandmother instead of returning home with her parents.

“And another thing,” Bill was going on, “why the hell do we need new towels again. You just replaced them six months ago! We're not made of money, Gloria!” He pounded his hands on the wheel for emphasis, his face an ugly blotchy red. Eldrath could see the vein in his temple pulsing under the skin like a fat worm. Whenever Bill worked himself into one of these tantrums, that happened. Some days, Eldrath pictured that vein bursting in a massive embolism that would kill Bill off. It made her feel sick to think it, but sometimes it didn't seem like that bad a thing. At least he wouldn't be miserable anymore. Her mother mumbled something through her cotton ball haze of pharmacological good cheer. Bill's tirade continued, not noticing the apology. Eldrath just wished he would stop, but she knew he wouldn't. Bill was a slow burn. He'd smolder for days, crackling and spitting. He'd never hit Gloria that Eldrath knew about at least. Not with his hands at least. She'd heard some of the fights though. Late at night, her head under her covers in her room, her hands pressed over her ears while the yelling went back and forth. The drugs made Gloria frigid, pushing Bill away farther and farther with each passing month. The disconnect sublimated into a hundred squabbles over nothings. And if he managed somehow to break through that thick blanket of numbness Gloria wove about herself, and spark her anger then she would say things to cut him and make him not want to try.

There had been an affair, Eldrath knew. She'd not known at the time of course. Her mother had had the good sense to be that discrete at least. The man had been a old boyfriend of her mother's from college. Eldrath had been five or six at the time, only met him once or twice when her mother would take them to McDonalds for a rendezvous. While she and her brother would play in the jungle gym, buried in a field of bright colored plastic balls and laughing, Gloria and her man would sneak off to kiss and hold hands. Then the man would buy them a molten apple pie that would blister your lips and they would go back home. Bill had found out about it eventually, but that old-school sense of duty hadn't allowed him to do what both he and Gloria had wanted and divorce her. They'd stayed together.

Bill laid on the horn, swearing at another driver as he pulled around to pass. Eldrath met the eyes of another girl in the car as it went by her parent's vehicle. The girl waved and Eldrath raised her hand and waved back with a smile. Her father's swearing continued, as it called into question the other girl's parents' intelligence and breeding, idiot bastards he called them. She just wished he would shut up. Wished he would be quiet and just drive. If he would just calm down everything would be all right. If he would just relax if he-

She felt it then. Felt the push. She hadn't really meant to do it consciously. Eldrath knew she wasn't like other young girls, she knew she was very different in fact. Mostly her difference manifested itself as an uncanny knack for getting out of trouble. Teachers believed her story over other peoples, even when there was evidence to the contrary. Sometimes her parents forgot she'd been grounded. Sometimes they never noticed she should be grounded at all. Eldrath could push people, you see. Just little nudges really. She couldn't make them do anything they really didn't want to do, but she could suggest. Give a little nudge. People were like marbles, really when she thought about it. Once you got them rolling along in a direction, they would tend that way on their own. She could even nudge objects, though they were much harder to move having only their will to set them in motion. They felt heavy and solid to her mind. Even a feather was like stone. She could lift it, yes, with a lot of effort. This time though something in her had pushed... hard. All that anger at her parents for making her and her brother's lives miserable because they couldn't stay in love, couldn't be a real family, it had boiled out through a crack in her mind and splashed over Bill in a torrent.

Their car swerved. Bill's head slumped forward on his chest, stunned. His eyes swam and he began to pull on the wheel, holding onto it like a life preserver. Then it all happened in a few infinitely long seconds. Eldrath saw her mother's drugged haze evaporate as adrenaline poured into her mother's body. Gloria screamed Bill's name, reaching out to shake his arm, trying to wake him. The back wheels of the car broke loose and the vehicle side slipped into the median with a horrendous crash. The windows and windshield exploded. A hail storm of crystal shards had erupted into being in the car. Eldrath heard herself scream, but it was like watching a movie, distant... remote. The Accord flipped, flying, rolling through the air and over the median. It dropped into the oncoming traffic on the other side of the highway. Eldrath could see the semi truck, its huge chrome grill looming up fast as the car slammed to the asphalt in front of it. She clutched Remy to her, eyes squeezing tight. Then the truck hit them. Something flashed white behind Eldrath's eyes. The crack in her mind burst open like a volcano and the air about her seemed solidify. Twisted metal and fire whipped all around the two children as the car disintegrated about them, but not a blade touched them. The rolled through the air, wreckage all around them until finally with a grating of metal on pavement the shattered husk of the Honda came to rest in the ditch beside the road. Then the brilliance behind her eyes faded in blackness, and Eldrath knew no more.

**
When she woke, Eldrath didn't know if she was dreaming or not. It took her eyes a few minutes to make sense of the room. When they finally did, she could tell it she lay in a hospital bed. An IV sat next to her bed with a big bag of saline suspended from it and a long tube running down to her arm. She pushed herself up, looking around trying to remember what had happened. Her memory felt fuzzy and she wondered where her parents were. She felt a wave of panic, though if you asked her she couldn't have said why. Only a sense of horror that rose the short hairs on the back of her neck. She was about to reach out for the call button on the small remote next to the bed when the door to the room opened.

Three people came in, two wearing medical staff uniforms, green smocks and caps with little green booties over their shoes, one a nurse and one obviously a doctor by the stethoscope hanging about his neck. The third man wore a trim cut suit and looked like Eldrath thought a fed might look, based on how the TV shows she'd seen portrayed them at least. He was a giant of a man, intimidating save for the eyes. His eyes looked tired.

The doctor crossed to her bedside. He looked to be about in his forties, the lines around his eyes had begun to show in earnest and his cheeks had that hollow look that becomes gaunt in some men as they age. He smiled at her, but the look didn't touch his eyes. Somehow Eldrath knew he didn't want to be there. A fleeting image run across her mind, like someone had turned on a projector inside her head. Eldrath blinked and felt the doctor's hands grab her shoulders as she swayed. Green grass floated across the movie screen in her head... and she looked down at... golf shoes? She blinked, shaking her head and trying to clear the image. It worked, the room came back into focus.

“There we are,” the doctor was saying. “Don't try to get up to fast, Ms. Joansen. You've been under for about a week.”

“Where am I?” Eldrath asked, her voice croaking strangely in her own ears. He throat felt incredibly parched. “Can I get some water?” The doctor nodded to the nurse and the young woman disappeared to return a moment later with a small Dixie cup. Eldrath drained it and thanked her.

“The where isn't quite so important yet, I think,” the doctor said watching Eldrath closely. “First let's see about HOW you are.” He proceed to quiz her then, holding up his fingers making her count them, snapping his digits behind her ears, and doing a whole battery of other things. Finally he nodded, apparently satisfied with her responses. “You seem little worse for what you've been through,” he said glancing at the man Eldrath had decided to think of as “the agent.” The doctor motioned to the agent to step forward. “Eldrath, this Colonel Waelin, he's going to answer any questions you have, alright? Good.” It wasn't really a question. The doctor picked up his clipboard, making some notes on it then he and the nurse stepped outside, the door closing with a swish behind them.

“Ms. Jonasen,” the colonel said, holding out his hand. Eldrath took it, shaking it without really thinking. Again, a projector sprang to life in her head. Images flooded into her mind, vying with each other for her attention. Eldrath closed her eyes, but the flood was there with her. Reflexively she broke contact. The tide slowed and ceased, leaving only a few flickering after images, like you get when you stare at a light bulb. “Ms. Jonasen?” he asked, his voice sounding genuinely concerned. “Do you need the doctor?”

“No.” Eldrath shook her head and then opened her eyes again and looked up at him. He had a block shaped head a strong pugnacious jaw. He was too brutish to be called handsome, his body was thick and broad like a Slavic weight lifter. He stood regarding her with a look of concern. Eldrath saw a flash then, of herself through his eyes surrounded by doctors while the treated her unconscious body. At least she thought it was her. It looked like her, but the girl on the table had hair that was stark white, not her own dark locks. She reached up and touched her head, then pulled a clump of hair into view. Eldrath couldn't help the gasp of shock. “What he hell?” She looked at the snow color lock in her hand confused.

“It happens,” he said, nodding. “Fairly often when a mutation comes into full manifestation there's some physical changes. You should actually be happy. Sometimes it's a lot worse. Careful now!” he said but she'd already struggled to her feet. “Let me help you.” He led her across the room to the small bath. Eldrath looked into the mirror, trying to take her reflection in... the change. Her eyes... they were the same color as her hair. The irises had been bleached out, like an over exposed photo, leaving just the tiny inky black pit of her pupil sitting in the center of the pale cloudy spirals that had once been wheat brown. Panic rolled itself into coils in her belly.

“Where's my parents?!” she said but didn't turn from the mirror, transfixed. Her voice sounded brittle in her ears. Her fingers clutched the counter, knuckles showing white. “I don't want to talk anymore, I want my Mom. I want my Dad!” She could feel herself starting to lose it. In a moment she would be sobbing. Colonel Waelin frowned, his face grim and sad.

“Ms. Joansen,” he said quietly, “Eldrath... they were killed in the crash.” The words hit Eldrath like a sledge hammer to the chest as the memories came flooding back. She screamed then, screamed and howled. Sobs wracked her and the guilt twisted her up. She felt arms encircle her and lift her like she weighed nothing. The huge man rocked her as he carried her to the bed. Finally he laid her down and sat her on her side. Eventually she cried herself to sleep and he kept a vigil. All of it could wait for now, the colonel thought. What was to become of the girl and her brother was a matter for another time. He pushed the snow colored hair out of her tear streaked face. Then he sat, and read.

((I'm taking a trial on Virtue server, but whether I stay or not, I don't enjoy these games unless I'm writing something for my characters. So this is a scene for Eldrath's childhood, showing one of the first manifestations of her abilities. Hope you enjoy reading it, comments are always welcome.))

**

Gloria finished filling the stainless sink, hot water making the suds foam up high like clouds. The dropped the stack of breakfast dishes in with a clunk and a muffled crash of cutlery, then she began to scrub the grime from them, sloshing the water about. She could hear her children, Eldrath and Renald, talking in the front room of the flat as she worked. They were watching Sesame Street, she knew from the sound of Elmo's voice guiding them along. Gloria had been surprised to discover that many of her favorites from when she was a child had left Sesame Street. She wondered where they'd gone? Gotten better jobs out of town? Her lip curled in a smile at the thought of muppets moving up the corporate ladder... or maybe a crime syndicate. Maybe that was what out of work muppets did, turned to a desperate life of drug addiction or prostitution.

Dark, Gloria, she thought to herself, nice and dark. Chuckling, she began to rinse and stack the cleaned plates in the dish drain. She made a face at the orange scale that crusted the rubberized base of it. She would replace it that afternoon, she decided. After Bill woke up, she would make him watch the kids and go out to get that and the groceries. He should have been awake hours ago. All he seemed to want to do was sleep anymore. He'd put on about twenty pounds in the five years they'd been married, all in a tire around his middle. Gloria thought it was very likely depression, but Bill wouldn't hear of talking to a shrink. He was such a typical male sometimes, unwilling to admit he needed help. It had gotten bad enough to cause big fights of late. Gloria frowned, scrutinizing the tines of a fork and picking bits of egg from them with her fingernail.

Reny's angry wail derailed her unpleasant train of thoughts. Gloria dropped the fork back into the water, swearing under her breath. Her daughter, Eldrath's, joy at having a little brother had lasted just about as long as it had taken Reny to begin walking and laying claim to the whole of the apartment. Elde's toys were now Renald's toys, and his toys were his toys as well... not Elde's. Elde had responded in kind and territorial dominance battles had begun to punctuate Gloria's daily life. Her daughter being the eldest, Elde could enforce her decisions through sheer strength. Reny had learned early on, however, that being noisy enough would generally bring allies to his cause. He used this tactic with the single minded unconscious selfishness that only a young child can muster.

When Gloria arrived in the living room she discovered Elde sitting as farthest from she could get from Reny in his walker. The boy was screaming his head off, hands outstretched ,furious tears streaking his face as he clawed the air trying to get at Elde on her perch. In her arms, hugged protectively to her chest was a ragged doll, Reny's latest annexed piece of property from the queendom of his elder sister. Elde met her mother's scowling gaze with a look that was half defiance and half fear. She squeezed the doll tighter.

“He took it from my bed!” Eldrath whined as Gloria approached her.

“Elde,” Gloria spoke sternly but not unkindly. “I thought you gave that to him last week, remember?”

“But he's ruining it, Mom! Look he tore it!” The little girl held up the torn doll for her mother's inspection. White stuffing peeked from under the little raggedy man's shoulders and leaked out in white entrails of cotton from his torn groin. Gloria held out her hand for the doll and, reluctantly, Eldrath reached up and handed the toy over. Remy had stopped his screaming but he still held out his hands for the doll, dancing from side to side in the walker threatening to let loose with another conniption. Gloria sighed, feeling much older than her 25 years and very alone. Bitterness crept up in her throat like bile as she looked down into the doll's button eyes. She dropped out of her junior year of college for this? Gloria wondered to herself, incredulous. She'd given up a carrerr to be married to a man who was barely here, playing referee between a pair of children who seemed to vacillate between bosom buddies and mortal enemies several times a day. She'd been in the honors college for god's sake! So why had she screwed things up so badly.

“No, Remy,” she said her voice hard, “it's broken, Mommy has to fix it.” Remy bawled and just for a moment, Gloria considered tossing him from the fourth floor window. She had a crystal clear image of him tumbling end over end, wailing as he fell until he smashed like a melon on the parking lot asphalt. Gloria shuddered with horror at herself. The boy's cries pulsed in her head like an ice pick. He just went on and on. She covered her ears, trying to blot it out. “Remy, shut up!” Gloria growled, but the lack of compassion in her tone just pushed her son to new heights of complaint.

“Can't you shut that kid up!” Bill's voice boomed from the bedroom. Gloria spun, biting back a harsh retort. On the couch, Elde watched, her eyes wide. She looked at her brother for a long moment and as if someone had thrown a switch... he stopped crying and fell asleep. “Thank god!” said Bill's angry voice from the bedroom. No doubt he would doze right back off. Gloria covered her mouth, stifling a sob. She didn't hear Eldrath get up, wasn't aware of her until she felt her daughter's tiny fingers take hold of her own. Gloria looked down with eyes streaked by running mascara.

“I'm sorry, Mommy,” Eldrath said, petting her mother's hand. “He can have it, don't cry. I'm sorry.” Gloria wiped her face with the back of her hand, ashamed of herself. She squeezed Eldrath's hand in a reassuring way she didn't feel and then she walked back into the kitchen to finish the dishes.