The usual disclaimers apply: don't read if you are prohibited by location, are under legal age, or if you are likely to be offended by explicit descriptions of gay sex. The story is pure fiction and is not based on any actual events.
Author's note: This story is a sequel to my earlier story "The Corps" and features the same characters, including the same celebrities. Though I have tried to write "Task Force" as a stand-alone story, but you might find it easier going if you have read "The Corps" first. It is assumed that you have at least read the prologue and ealier chapters of "Task Force"
Gymnopedies January 2003 gym@softhome.net
The Corps - Task Force Chapter 3: Florian -------------------------------------------
Breakfast was nearly over by the time Zac entered the main dining room, just a few knots of boys remained at various tables around the room, finishing off their morning meal. Nathan, who was talking with Tristan, glanced up and Zac gave him a quick wave before hurrying across to the serving table in the hopes that there would be something to eat still available.
Luckily for Zac there was still ample choice on the table. He selected his food, poured himself a large glass of fresh orange juice and made his way over to Nathan and Tristan.
"You're never going to eat all that!" Tristan's eyes widened in amazement as he took in the contents of Zac's plate, piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages.
Nathan shook his head. "That lot won't last him five minutes. Zac can eat more than anyone I've ever met."
"I need to build my energy up," Zac grinned. "You really wore me out in bed this morning. I thought you were going to suck me inside out."
Tristan looked uncomfortable and suddenly seemed to find his empty plate extremely interesting.
"Zac!" Nathan scowled at his boyfriend before giving Tristan a sympathetic glance.
Even though at fourteen Tristan was the oldest of the three boys, he was always strangely shy when it came to anything to do with sex. As far as Zac was aware, the older boy had never had any sexual contact with anyone since his dramatic arrival at the Corps base three months earlier. In fact, Zac wasn't even sure whether Tristan preferred boys or girls. Normally, it appeared that every boy with any powers at all was one hundred and ten percent gay, but Tristan's case was far from normal. He had originally been an ordinary, powerless fourteen year old. But as he lay in a coma as a result of a car accident in which both of his parents had been killed, he had accidentally been given incredible powers by Zac's brother Taylor and Taylor's boyfriend William. The sheer magnitude of these powers was unbelievable, even by Corps standards, enabling him to go face to face in an earth shaking battle with the Sentinel Circe. As a result of that battle, Tristan lost his powers and Circe lost her life. Zac knew that Tristan was still trying to come to terms both with the sudden loss of his parents and the fact that he was directly responsible for Circe's death. He also suspected that Tristan himself was not entirely sure in which direction his sexual desires lay. Loss, guilt and confused sexuality; quite a package for a lonely fourteen year old to have to sort through.
"Sorry Tris." Reaching across the table, Zac took Tristan's hand in his own and gave it a friendly squeeze. "I guess sometimes my mouth is even bigger than my stomach."
"It's ok, Zac," Tristan replied, forcing a smile.
"So, are you going to tell me the real reason you went to see Mark this morning?" Nathan asked, quickly changing the subject.
Zac couldn't help giving Nathan a guilty look as he swallowed a mouthful of eggs. "Have you been reading my mind?"
"You know me better than that!"
"Yeah, sorry." Nathan was right, Zac did know better. Nathan would never dream of entering Zac's mind or anyone else's without a good reason, no Corps telepath would. It was one of the first things they learned; a person's thoughts were private.
"And I know you, Zac." Nathan smiled across the table at his boyfriend. "I don't need to read your mind to know exactly why you wanted to talk to Mark. I've seen the worried looks you keep giving me. I've seen you staring at me when you think I'm asleep. It's the dreams isn't it?"
"Don't be angry with me. I really am worried about you."
"I know. But they're just dreams, Zac. They can't really hurt me. Besides, I know that you're with me, to keep me safe."
Zac felt himself blushing. Nathan was the only person in the world who could affect him in this way. He forced himself to look up, into Nathan's steady, trusting eyes and he was reminded of why he loved this boy with all his heart.
"Haven't seen him before, he must be a new boy."
Tristan's words pulled Zac back to reality and he turned his head to follow the other boy's gaze. Across the room a good looking brown haired boy was clearing tables, obviously on kitchen duty. He looked to be a little older than Tristan, perhaps fifteen or so. "Yeah, can't say I've seen him around either."
"His name's Jason, he was a street kid, came in a couple of days ago." said Nathan.
"You know him?" Zac asked his boyfriend.
"No, I just over heard Jerry talking to one of the other boys about him as I came in." Jerry was the man who ran the kitchens.
"He's quite cute," Zac observed. "Pity he's probably straight."
Jason must have felt their eyes on him as at that moment he turned and looked in their direction. His look was not exactly friendly. "Something funny?" he asked, seeing the grin on Zac's face.
"Not especially." Zac shrugged and turned away. He'd already lost interest in the boy. Life was too short to spend it worrying about someone who had an obvious attitude problem. "So, what's everyone doing today?" he asked.
"I've got lessons this morning, then I'm supposed to be helping Jake with the new computer system this afternoon," said Tristan. It was a rule that all the "rescued boys" attend at least a minimum of schooling to give them some sort of chance went they left the base and had to find their own way in the outside world. Though most would eventually be offered paid positions within the Corps organisation. Actual Corps members, boys with powers, were generally exempt from this rule; the younger ones still received schooling of a sort, but it was much more tailored to their individual needs. Whilst Tristan was an honorary Task Force member, with all of the privileges that this entailed, he didn't actually have any powers and had agreed with Mark that perhaps school would be a good idea. He had also turned out to be a bit of a wiz with computers, an ability he was often able to put to good use within the base.
"Rather you than me," said Zac. "I don't like Jake. I'm sure they could have found a better base leader."
"He's not so bad," Nathan smiled. "You're used to Mark having the job, and compared to him no one is going to seem very good. At least he's better than Brian!" The smile on Nathan's face vanished as he said this last sentence. Brian had only been base leader for a very short period, his time in the job coming to an abrupt end when he had drugged and kidnapped Nathan, intending to force himself on the boy sexually. He had paid the price for his crimes when Nathan had accidentally wiped away the man's powers. He was now performing some menial function in another Corps base.
Zac saw the effect this memory had on Nathan and wished that there wasn't a table between them so that he could give the boy a hug. "Let's go see Mark and see if he's got anything in mind for us today," he said, getting up from his seat.
"Hey! Watchit!"
"Oops, sorry!" His attention on Nathan, Zac had stood up and stepped back, straight into Jason, who was passing carrying a tray of leftover food and dirty dishes.
"You WILL be sorry," the new boy scowled. "Look what you've gone and done." A dark, wet coffee stain marred the front of his otherwise pristine shirt.
"Ah. Yeah. Bit of a mess," Zac observed. Then he grinned in what he hoped was an appealing way. "Look on the bright side. When it dries I'll autograph it for you and you can tell people that it was done by Zac Hanson. The girls will be green with envy."
Jason didn't appear to be impressed. "Real little joker, aren't you?" he snarled. "Well joke about this!" He turned the loaded tray towards Zac and tipped the entire contents; plates, cups, dirty knives and forks, coffee, orange juice and bits of food, down the youngster's front.
It took a second for what had happened to sink in. Zac looked down at himself. He was a total mess. He could already feel the wetness soaking through his clothing onto his skin. Slowly he raised his eyes to look directly at his assailant. "That was not a very good idea," he heard himself say, very softly.
"Zac!" Nathan's warning came from behind him. "ZAC, DON'T DO IT! IF YOU USE YOUR POWERS AND YOU HURT HIM YOU'LL BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE. HE'S NOT WORTH IT. LET IT GO." This sounded straight into Zac's mind via Nathan's telepathic talent.
With great concentration, Zac focussed he telekinetic abilities. Slowly and deliberately he used his power to lift Jason from the floor, holding him suspended just inches from the ground. The look on the boy's face was a sight to see, but the eleven year old didn't let his concentration waver for a second. He manoeuvred his burden to the side a couple of feet so that he was no longer blocking the path to the door, then very gently set him down on the ground again. "Just keep out of my way," he said, coolly and walked casually past the startled teenager towards the exit.
"Zac, I'm proud of you," laughed Nathan, catching up with the boy and putting an arm about his shoulders.
"Yeah, you sure took the wind out of his sails," said Tristan.
"All in a days work for your average super hero," said Zac, happily.
It was still a good thirty minutes before the morning lessons were due to begin. Tristan decided to tag along with Zac and Nathan as the two youngsters headed back to their room so that Zac could get changed into some clean, dry clothes. Of all the Task Force members, he felt most comfortable in the company of these two boys. Mark and the others had gone out of their way to try and help him to fit in, but there was a certain intensity about the older boys that made him feel a little uneasy and out of place. The competent way they used their powers to deal with everything and anything that came their way made them seem somehow above ordinary people. Zac and Nathan were different. Zac's natural ability to turn any situation into a potential disaster made him seem only too human. Whilst Nathan's quiet, calm personality perfectly balanced his boyfriend's natural exuberance. True, Zac had a tendency to speak first and think later, and he appeared to have no inhibitions when it came matters sexual, but Tristan knew that underneath that happy-go-lucky exterior was a caring and loyal friend.
As they reached Zac and Nathan's room, Tristan followed the boys inside. Zac immediately began pulling off his soiled clothing, tossing it carelessly aside and was soon down to just a pair of what Tristan considered to be very 'brief' briefs.
"Just look at this," Zac complained pointing out a damp patch on his one remaining garment. "It's soaked right through. I should have turned that jerk upside down and stuck his head into a pan of that gruel stuff that Jerry makes at breakfast." Off came the briefs, with not even a moments thought that he had an audience.
Tristan tried to remain nonchalant about Zac's complete nudity, but for reasons he could not understand, or rather that he could understand but could not come to terms with, the sight of the naked eleven year old caused his heart to start to beat faster and his mouth to go dry. "M...maybe I should go," he stuttered.
"Why? You've ages yet before school starts," Zac shrugged, totally oblivious to the effect his exposed body was having on the older boy. "I'm gonna grab a quick shower. I stink of garbage." He disappeared into the bathroom.
"You ok?" Nathan asked Tristan, pausing in the act of collecting Zac's discarded clothing.
"Yeah, why shouldn't I be?"
Nathan gave Tristan a long considering stare before finishing picking up the clothes and stuffing them into a laundry bag. He put the bag outside of the room door where it would be collected later, then taking Tristan lightly by the arm he led him across to a sofa. "Sit down. Zac will be at least a few minutes in there, it'll give us time to talk."
Tristan sat, all too aware of the tension in his own body. He saw the serious expression on Nathan's face and wondered what the boy wanted to talk about.
Sitting down next to Tristan, Nathan left his hand resting on his friend's arm. "You should follow your feelings, you know." He looked up into Tristan's face, his expression calm but at the same time showing concern.
"I don't know what you mean." Tristan's response had been automatic. He knew exactly what Nathan was talking about but he couldn't admit his feelings even to himself so there was no way he could bring himself to admit them to someone else. He cursed Nathan's uncanny knack or knowing what was going on in someone's head even without reading their mind.
"It's tearing you apart, and there's no need for it."
"Look, Nathan, there's nothing wrong with me. Just leave it!" The words came out sharper than Tristan intended.
"Alright, maybe I just got it wrong. I'm sorry." Nathan gave a sad smile and looked away. There followed a long silence that rapidly became uncomfortable. Eventually Nathan began to speak, his voice soft, his eyes focussed on some undetermined spot on the wall. "I'm glad you're ok, Tris. It probably sounds silly, but I'd got it into my head that you weren't coping very well with something. I feel better now that I know I was wrong. But I hope if ever one of my best friends does have something worrying him, he'll realise that he can talk to me about it. Sometimes people get confused about things and talking it through with a friend can help. Sometimes they even need to try things out, to help them decide whether it's right for them or not." He turned his head until his eyes once again met Tristan's. "You understand what I'm saying, Tris?"
"Um, yeah. I understand." Tristan quickly broke eye contact. His heart was pounding and he clasped his sweaty palms together to stop his hands shaking. Nathan and Zac might both be a couple of years younger than him, but they were the best friends he'd ever had, and they were so much more experienced than he was in almost everything he could think of. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to confide in them. If he forced himself to say out loud what he felt, just once, maybe he would then be able to get things straight in his head. Maybe Nathan was right about having to try it. At least then he'd know, one way or the other, if he were really gay! No sooner had this thought entered his head than it was replaced by a familiar image of his dead parents. An image that had plagued him many times over the past three months. He heard his father ranting about same sex unions being unnatural and his mother saying that all gays would burn forever in the fiery pits of hell! He started to shake.
"Tris?" Nathan's concerned voice broke into Tristan's unwelcome memory and he felt the boy's hand on his own.
"Don't touch me!" he snatched his hand away and stood up. Hot tears running down his face. "I don't know what to do. I'm so scared and mixed up."
Instantly, Nathan was up there next to him, his arms around him. "You don't have to do anything. Just talk. Say what you're feeling. Stop trying to sort everything out on your own."
It felt a little strange being comforted by a boy two years younger and several inches shorter, but at the same time Tristan had to admit that it felt good. He put his own arms around Nathan and hugged him back. "Perhaps you're right, it would help to talk. But can we leave it until later?"
"Whenever you like," Nathan smiled. "Just don't leave it too long."
Tristan nodded. "I promise." He wiped his face on his sleeve and forced a smile.
A sudden knock on the door caused both boys to jump in surprise.
"Come in," Nathan called.
The door opened and Dayle entered. "Is Zac around?"
"Yeah, he's just in the shower. He had a little accident at breakfast," Nathan explained.
Dayle just nodded, obviously not especially concerned; 'little accidents' tended to follow Zac wherever he went. "Hi Tris, how's things?" Then he noticed Tristan's eyes. "You ok?" he asked.
"Yeah, fine, thanks," Tristan replied. "We were just... you know... talking things over."
"Sounds like a good idea to me," Dayle agreed, giving the teenager an understanding smile.
Nathan put his head inside the bathroom door. "Zac, hurry up. Dayle's here to see you."
Seconds later Zac appeared, casually towelling himself dry. "Hiya Dayle. Got bored with Mark and decided you want to try out a real love machine?"
"I don't think so," said Dayle, laughing. "Though I promise you, Zac, that if I ever do get bored with Mark you'll be top of my list as a replacement. I've got a job I want your help with. There's been a bit of trouble up in the main base and Mark wants me to interview all of the boys. I don't expect any problems but I thought you could tag along just in case I needed a little muscle."
The grin on Zac's face spread all the way to his ears. "You've come to just the right person. I've got the most perfect little muscle in the world. Just ask Nathan." He dropped his towel to the ground and wriggled his hips, causing his small, hairless dick to flop from side to side.
"Erm, that's not quite the muscle I had in mind," laughed Dayle, "Though if anyone gives us any trouble it would be fun watching you trying to beat them into submission with that! I was referring to your telekinetic abilities."
"Oh!" Zac feigned disappointment. "You mean you want me for my brain and not for my body."
"He's onto a loser, either way," quipped Nathan, earning himself a hard stare from Zac.
"I'll see you up in the main base in a few minutes then," said Dayle to Zac. "I'll wait for you in Jake's office." He headed for the door, but just before leaving he turned back. "By the way, Tristan, you know Ralph, the base messenger? Well he's just been made Mark's personal assistant and will be moving down to our floor. I've put him in the room next to yours. He's had a bit of a hard time recently so could you keep an eye on him and make sure he's ok?"
"Yeah, no problem," said Tristan. He knew Ralph quite well, they shared some school classes together. He was a shy, quiet boy, easy to get along with. Besides, thought Tristan, it would be nice to have someone ordinary around, someone like himself who didn't have super powers. He glanced down at his watch. "Argh! Look at the time," he said "I'd better get a move on or I'll be later for lessons. I'll see you guys later."
"About time, I was wondering were you'd got to." Mark got up from his desk as Paul entered the office.
"Sorry, I got kind of held up." Paul gave a guilty half smile and quickly looked away. "So, are you ready then?"
Mark shook his head. "You really are hopeless, you know that? Adam is on an assignment; he's supposed to be working. You shouldn't be distracting him by teleporting over to him all the time."
Paul looked even more guilty. "How did you know?"
"Easy," said Mark, trying not to laugh. "Because that's exactly what I would do if I were able to teleport and I was separated from Dayle for any length of time. It looks like it's getting pretty serious between you two."
"We just... well... we just like being together, sort of."
This time Mark did laugh. "It must be serious, otherwise you'd be busy telling about how good the sex is between you. It's nice to see that you've found someone you really care about at last."
"I still care about you."
"I know you do. And I feel the same way about you, I always will. But that's not the same, is it?"
Paul shook his head. "I guess not." He looked up into Mark's eyes. "Adam makes me feel so special, like I'm the most important person in the world. You know what I mean, don't you?"
"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean." Mark stepped forwards and gave Paul a hug. The Task Force leader shared a lot of history with the fourteen year old teleporter. They'd been through some difficult times together. In those dark days when Mark had believed Dayle to be dead, it was Paul who had been there for him and had helped him keep his sanity. "I'm happy for you Paul, for both you and Adam. But now, I suppose we'd better get to work. You ready?"
"Yeah, hold tight."
Mark gripped hold of Paul's hand and closed his eyes, in preparation for the jump right across the Atlantic to the London base. His stomach gave a sickening lurch, he staggered slightly and when he reopened his eyes their surroundings had changed.
They were now in an office similar to Mark's, but everything in a different place. Behind the desk sat a harassed looking young man in his mid twenties.
"Adrian, sorry we're a little late." Mark greeted the London base leader.
"Mark! Thank God you've got here. I was just about to contact you. We have a major problem."
"What is it?"
Adrian pushed a folder across his desk towards the newcomers. Mark stepped closer so that he could see it. Written clearly across the top of the cover were the words "Candidate for Corps Membership". And underneath, "Florian Reynolds. Age 16. Assessment of Power Potential: Telekinesis - moderate. Healing - moderate. Energy Manipulation - very strong." The folder had a blue sticker at the corner indicating that this candidate was potentially powerful enough to be of interest to the Task Force.
Mark looked up from the folder. "This is the boy you contacted me about. What's the problem?"
Adrian sighed. "A couple of hours ago, he was kidnapped from his school. Half a dozen men burst into his classroom. They were dressed in black and wearing masks, a bit like something out of a bad movie. They dragged him out, threw him into a van and drove off."
"Why wasn't I contacted earlier?" Mark demanded.
"Because I only found out about it a short time ago myself. It was picked up by accident in our routine monitoring of police radio calls. But it gets worse. About twenty minutes ago the same van drove back into the school, dumped the boy in front of the main doors and drove away again."
"They took him, then brought him back? What's going on?"
Adrian shook his head. "I wish I knew. Over the past fifteen minutes the police radio's have been going mad with messages backwards and forwards. At first the boy appeared a bit confused; he wouldn't let anyone near him. A teacher tried to approach him and was almost electrocuted, though from the reports she wasn't too badly hurt. But it seems he's becoming gradually more and more unstable. He refuses to move or respond to any attempts to communicate with him. The latest reports mention fires breaking out around him and windows exploding. Mark, this is serious. This boy is potentially almost as strong as Prince William, and it looks like he's running out of control. I've despatched a squad of Corps members; a kinetic and a couple of telepaths, but they'll be way out of their depth, they don't have a hope of tackling someone that powerful."
Mark fought to clear his mind and come up with a plan of action. Apart from William, who wasn't available, there was no one who stood a chance of matching this boy in terms of sheer power. If Florian had really gone 'rogue' then all they could hope for was a miracle! There was only one real course available to them. "We've got to go there." At least if they were actually on the scene they would have chance to assess the situation properly. "Paul?"
Paul nodded. "Have you got a map showing the area around the school?" he asked Adrian.
"Sure. Give me a second." Adrian went through into an outer office and returned moments later with a couple of maps, spreading them out on the desk in front of the younger boy.
Whilst Paul studied the maps, Adrian spoke quietly to Mark. "There's something else you should know," he said, his tone matching his worried expression. "The police have ordered in an armed response unit."
Mark groaned. "I hope that your British police are not as trigger happy as ours over in the States. How long before your people are due to arrive on the scene?"
"Could be a half hour or more yet," said Adrian. "The way things are going it will probably be all over by the time they get there. I wish we had a halfway decent teleporter over here." He glanced across to the desk where Paul was still staring intently at the maps. "Are you sure Paul can get you to a place he's never visited before just from looking at its location on a map?"
"Paul's the best there is," said Mark, confidently. "He'll manage ok." He paused to think for a moment. "I can't believe it's a coincidence that this has suddenly happened to a boy we were considering for Task Force status. How many people knew about Florian's potential?"
"Not many," Adrian replied. "Are you saying that someone here in the base gave away information about him?"
"You have to admit it's a possibility, "said Mark. "One that certainly needs further investigation. Don't say anything to anyone about it at the moment. As soon as we get this crisis sorted I'll send Dayle over to check out everyone who might have known anything about Florian. The other thing that concerns me is how he became able to tap into his full abilities so quickly. You told me his powers were still dormant."
"When I last saw him, yesterday, they were."
"Well they're sure not dormant now." Mark shook his head worriedly. "I only know of one way in which dormant powers can be opened up to their full potential in a very short space of time, and if I discover that these kidnappers used this method on Florian I promise that when I get hold of them they'll suffer ten times the agony they would have had to put the boy through."
An uneasy silence descended, adding weight to Mark's words.
"Right, I'm ready." Paul looked up from the maps.
"Ok, let's get going," said Mark.
"Good luck," said Adrian. "I'll do what I can for you from here. I've got a contact high up in the police. I've been trying to reach him, but he's unavailable. I'll keep trying. He won't be able to do anything to help with Florian, but at least he'll be able to get the cops off your backs."
"Thanks. That would be a help. Let's go Paul."
Once more taking hold of Paul's hand with his own, Mark closed his eyes to minimise the disorientation that was an unavoidable side effect of any teleportation. He felt the world around him give a small lurch then there was hard concrete under his feet and a cool wind on his face.
It was instantly apparent that things were not going well. They were now standing on the edge of what appeared to be a car parking area in front of the main school building. Several of the cars were burning fiercely. Even though they weren't particularly close to the blazes, Mark could still feel the intense heat and taste the acrid black smoke that was billowing upwards into the grey, overcast sky.
Beyond the burning cars, perhaps fifty yards from Mark and Paul, standing in the entrance to the school building, was Florian. He face was grimy with sweat and dirt from the smoke and his hair was plastered down on his head. His movements were erratic and unsteady, almost as if he were drunk, as he lurched around, putting out his hand against the wall to support himself.
As Mark watched, the out of control teenager stared intently at one of the still intact cars. He shouted something unintelligible and the car exploded with a deafening roar. Both Mark and Paul threw themselves to the ground to escape the blast as broken glass and shards of hot metal rained down about them. As the roar subsided, Florian's voice could be heard shouting loudly over the harsh crackle of the flames.
"I'll show you! I'll teach you to keep away from me! You're not gonna hurt me again!"
"What the hell do you two think you're doing? Get out of there!" A new voice cut through the din, coming from behind the two Corps members.
Mark glanced around. A uniformed policeman was gesticulating wildly at them from the his position of relative safety behind a police vehicle. Mark could see about a dozen other police officers taking similar refuge and guessed that there were many others that he could not see. He made a quick assessment based upon what he knew about William's capabilities and decided that the police were probably our of Florian's range, though he wished he could be more confident of this fact. If the boy somehow managed to detonate one of the police cars, an already serious situation would become devastating.
"Are you bloody fools deaf as well as stupid. Get your arses out of there, now!" The shouting policeman was becoming more frantic and showed signs of starting to edge towards the two teens.
Mark nudged Paul. "We'd better move." He gave a wave of his hand indicating a direction away from the excited officer. "We need to get out of sight of these cops. Let's get down between those cars." Hiding between the cars would mean moving closer to Florian and putting themselves within range of the boy's formidable powers, but Mark felt this was a risk he had to take he if he were going to come up with a solution to this situation. He had no intentions of wasting time arguing with intransigent policemen. In spite of the situation he was unable to keep a smile from his face as he listened to the frustrated curses of the irate cop.
Now hidden in their little haven of relative calm, Mark made up his mind as to what they should do. "We're going to need some help," he said to Paul. "I want you to teleport back to our base and fetch Dayle and Zac."
"I'm not leaving you here on your own," Paul hissed, stubbornly.
"Just do it, Paul," Mark ordered. "I'll be fine here. But that could change if we don't get reinforcements soon."
Reluctantly, Paul nodded and a split second later he was gone.
The next few minutes seemed to drag by interminably. Florian had gone strangely quiet and the police appeared content to wait things out and see what happened. Mark was about to look over the cars and check on Florian when a sudden terrific explosion close by changed his mind and left his ears ringing. That one had been too close for comfort. "Come on Paul," he muttered.
There was the sound of a large vehicle drawing up, somewhere behind the police cars. Mark risked a quick glance and groaned inwardly. Things had just become a lot more dangerous; the armed response unit had arrived. Police in body armour and carrying rifles poured out of the van and quickly dispersed around the surrounding area.
Moments later, to Mark's great relief, Paul reappeared, accompanied by Dayle and Zac. The three boys immediately threw themselves down next to Mark. However, they hadn't been quick enough to escape notice.
"Armed police! You people hiding amongst the cars, stand up slowly with you arms above your head."
"Just ignore them," said Mark, trying to appear calm and confident in order to reassure the others. Quickly he gave the two new arrivals a short appraisal of the situation, watching their faces carefully. Dayle looked serious, but not unduly perturbed; the young telepath had been in many dangerous situations before and Mark knew he could rely on him totally. Zac had the look of someone who was scared to death but was determined that he wouldn't let his friends down, no matter what. Paul just looked pale and exhausted. This last observation worried Mark greatly. Paul was by far the most powerful teleporter in the Corps, no on else even came close, but even he had his limits. He'd just made three long distance jumps, almost half way around the world, within the space of a few minutes. For two of those jumps he had been carrying passengers. It was obvious to anyone looking at him that his limits had been reached and probably even crossed. Mark had never seen the boy look so completely drained. What made matters worse was that the nineteen year old knew that if he were going to put his plan into effect he was going to have to ask his friend to make one final jump. Admittedly it would be a very short one, but he couldn't be certain if the youngster would even be able to manage that if his present appearance was anything to go by. Unfortunately there was no choice, they had to try and salvage something out of this mess.
"Dayle, what's going on in Florian's head?"
The telepath concentrated for a moment and then looked suddenly sick. "Believe me Mark when I tell you that you really do not want to know," he said, with a grimace. "He's completely out of it. The only time I've seen anything like this before is when I've tried to read people who have taken some sort of hallucinogenic drugs. But I've never seen anything as bad as this."
"Drugs? That could explain the way he's behaving. Any chance of you putting him out cold?" This was crucial to Mark's plan. They had no chance of beating Florian in a face to face confrontation, but if he could be knocked out that would mean they would only be left with a dozen heavily armed police to deal with; piece of cake!
Dayle shook his head. "Sorry Mark. It's as if every connection in his brain is firing at the same time. It would be like trying to stop a nuclear explosion. But I don't think that will be necessary anyway. His mind is so overloaded its going to shut down all on its own any time now." Dayle looked more serious than ever. "If I'm right and he is pumped full of drugs then we're talking massive overdose. It won't only be his brain that shuts down, all his other major organs will be close behind. If he doesn't get some help soon it will be too late to do anything for him."
Mark looked towards Paul. The teleporter still looked like he were fighting to stay conscious. "Paul, I know you're tired," he said, aware that he were ridiculously understating the boy's condition. "But I need you to just make one more small jump. When I give you the signal I want you to teleport the four of us into the school entrance, right next to Florian. Do you think you can manage it?"
With a grim smile that stabbed Mark right to the heart, Paul nodded. "Yeah, I can do it. Just tell me when."
Mark felt a surge of pride for the younger boy. He knew that if he'd asked Paul to teleport them to the moon the answer would have been the same. "Zac, as soon as we're in position I want you to set up a telekinetic barrier around us. Whatever happens, don't let anyone or anything through."
Zac looked more frightened than ever. Using telekinesis in this way required immense concentration and control, and control was something Zac had always had a problem with. He'd had a lot of practice creating this sort of barrier, but had never before had to do it in a real life situation when any slip up could have serious consequences.
"You can do it, Zac," Mark said, confidently, in an effort to reassure the eleven year old. Mark's biggest worry, something he was careful to keep to himself, was actually not Zac's ability to maintain the shield, but much more for the reaction of the police marksmen. The sight of the four of them materialising out of thin air in plain view was bound to come as a shock to anyone watching and he desperately hoped that none of the riflemen had an itchy trigger finger. Strong though he was, not even Zac could create a shield that would stop a rifle bullet.
"He's nearly gone," warned Dayle, who had been maintaining a light telepathic contact with Florian.
Mark briefly lifted his head just high enough to see over the cars. Through the smoke and haze he could see that Florian had fallen to his knees and was swaying weakly. A quick look behind confirmed that there was increased activity amongst the police lines; they too had noticed the boy's condition and were preparing to make a rush.
"Everyone hold hands," Mark order. Taking hold of Zac and Paul, he waited tensely, his eyes on Dayle's face.
"He's out," Dayle said, suddenly.
"Go, Paul," snapped Mark.
The world around them flickered, lurched, then steadied. They hadn't moved! The sound of shouting, charging policemen could be heard over the crackle and pop of burning automobiles.
"No!" Paul's strangled cry came through gritted teeth, a mixture of frustration and despair. He screwed up his face in an expression of agonised concentration. "Arghhhh!"
Everything shook and went dark. For a split second Mark felt like he was on a rack, being stretched in every direction at once.
Then, they were in the school entrance, the prone, unmoving figure of Florian just inches away from Mark's feet. With a barely audible groan, little more than a sigh, Paul wobbled and sank to the ground, where he too lay still.
Trying to ignore the dizziness in his head and the sick, queasy feeling in his stomach, Mark reached out to his friend. A wave of relief swept through him as he ascertained that there was nothing wrong with Paul other than complete and utter exhaustion. "Zac, we need that barrier now."
Shouting police officers were charging in from almost every direction as Zac struggled to overcome the disorientation resulting from their rather uncomfortable teleportation.
"Come on Zac, get it together." Mark made his tone deliberately harsh. He knew that the youngster was doing his best, but he could tell from the boy's eyes that Zac was just one millimetre away from complete panic and to show him any sign of softness was likely to cause him to lose it completely.
Mark's words must have some effect. Zac's expression hardened and his brow furrowed in concentration. A hazy barrier formed around them, like a large transparent bubble several yards in diameter.
And not a moment too soon. Little more than a second later the nearest of the policemen charged straight into the barrier, grunted, looked startled, and sat down hard. The barrier wasn't solid, not in the sense that a brick wall was solid. It would be something like running into a huge, invisible pillow. Not a painful experience, but something likely to come as one hell of a surprise for someone who wasn't expecting it.
Several more officers were approaching, though Mark noted that they were moving much more cautiously having seen what had happened to their unfortunate colleague. Within seconds a small crowd had gathered around the barrier, some of them nervously putting out their hands, testing this strange resistance.
Trying to ignore the shouting of the police just yards away, Mark knelt and for the first time made physical contact with the cause of all this turmoil. Florian's face was slick with sweat and smeared with dirt from all the smoke that hung heavily in the air. Mark's hopes sank, things didn't look good. "Help me get him onto his back," he said to Dayle who was watching worriedly. With Dayle's help he turned the boy over and quickly pulled off his school tie and ripped open his shirt, causing the buttons to pop off and fly in every direction.
Florian's smooth, pale chest was as sweat covered as his face. It rose and fell heavily with each unsteady, rasping breath. Mark placed his palm flat on the boy's exposed torso, trying to get an accurate idea of his condition. It only took a few seconds for his worst fears to be confirmed.
"You were right about the drugs," said Mark, looking across at Dayle who was knelt on the other side of the boy. "I would guess at some sort of opiate. There's enough of the stuff swimming around in his body to kill a horse." He sighed. "He's right at the limit of my ability. I wish Taylor were here."
"He's not. And you don't have his power," said Dayle, his eyes flashing a warning.
"I know that," said Mark, more sharply than he intended. "But I'm not about to sit here and watch this boy die."
Both of the teens were only too aware of the possible dangers a healer could face if he committed himself to something that was beyond his abilities. Unlike the other powers, which simply stopped working when the user was completely drained, healing would continue to draw off the practitioner's life energy. A healer who overextended himself was likely to lapse into a coma, which would quickly be followed by death. Mark was an extremely powerful healer, but he couldn't come close to matching Zac's older brother Taylor, and there was a certain point beyond which even Taylor couldn't go.
Dayle gave a resigned sigh. "You're right. If we're gonna to do this then we'd better get on with it. The longer we wait the worse he's going to get, and Zac can't hold those cops back forever."
"We?"
"Yeah, 'We', I'm going to maintain a full telepathic contact with you all the way through."
"Dayle, No!" What the telepath was suggesting could be extremely dangerous. A full contact meant that he would be right there in Mark's head. If the worst happened and Mark didn't have the strength to pull this off, Dayle would feel the full emotional force of everything that happened to his lover. The mental shock would be dreadful and could even be fatal."
"Yes! I lost you once before, Mark, I'm not about to lose you again. Besides, maybe I can be of some help, even if it's only to offer you support."
Shaking his head, but knowing Dayle wouldn't be talked around, Mark reluctantly agreed. "Let's do this, then." He once more placed his hand flat on the centre of Florian's panting chest and closed his eyes. Just before he committed himself he felt the gentle caress of Dayle's hand on his cheek, and then Dayle was inside his head.
"READY?"
"READY."
Dayle's mental voice was as calm and controlled as his physical one had been. In spite of his reservations, Mark was glad Dayle was there. There was no hiding the fact that what he was about to do scared him, and having Dayle to mentally hold his hand was a huge comfort. Taking a deep breath, he opened himself up to the huge gaping void that was Florian; a void that had to be filled with Mark's own energies if the boy was to survive. It was like opening the door of a spacecraft in the vacuum of space. Mark felt his energy being literally sucked out of him. He'd never before tried anything this close to his limit and he fought desperately to control the energy flows. It was a losing battle and uncharacteristically he felt himself start to panic, like a drowning man about to go under for the very last time.
"EASY, MARK. STAY WITH ME."
The voice in his head provided an anchor for Mark to grasp onto. Regaining some of his inner calm, he fought his way back upstream against the turbulent flow of the healing energies.
"HOLD ON, MARK."
It was the most terrifying of all white knuckle rides. He fought to keep his head above water, knowing that if he slipped under again he'd never make it back to the surface.
"LISTEN TO MY VOICE, MARK. YOU'VE ALMOST MADE IT."
Dayle was right. The flow of power was easing. He no longer had to battle quite so hard. Exhausted he clawed his way back towards the surface of his own consciousness.
Then, it was over. He opened his eyes to the blinding brilliance of a dreary grey afternoon. For a moment all he could see was Dayle's face, the telepath was smiling in spite of the tears running down his cheeks. He'd done it; they had done it, both of them. Florian was alive and to a large extent he was healed. Just to be sure, Mark sent a final mental probe into the boy. There were still traces of drugs in his body, but that was something they would find a way to take care of later. The important thing now was that the damage, caused by the overdose of drugs, had been repaired.
"Mark..."
Zac's half gasp, half sob caused Mark to turn around quickly. The youngster was down on his hands and knees as he fought to keep up the barrier. The police were already inching forwards. "Let it go, Zac. We've done here." Mark put a weary hand on Zac's shoulder.
As soon as Zac released the barrier the police swarmed in. Mark tried to get to his feet but was picked up by two officers and slammed hard into a wall, knocking all the wind out of his lungs before his arms were pulled roughly behind his back and his wrists cuffed tightly. He heard a scuffle behind him and managed to turn his head enough to witness a burly officer trying to subdue Zac. The boy may be mentally exhausted, but he was still determined to give a good account of himself. Grasped from behind, he managed to land a good couple of blows with his heels on the policeman's shins. "Zac, don't fight them," Mark called.
Zac went limp, allowing the policeman to almost throw him roughly against the wall and secure his hands behind him, the same as Mark's. However, the angry cop wasn't satisfied with this, his hand balled into a tight fist, he sent it with pile driver force into Zac's lower back. The boy gave a scream of pain and collapsed onto the ground, alternately retching and fighting to breathe.
"You bastard!" Mark heard himself scream. He fought to get to Zac but was easily restrained.
"Better relax, kid," said a voice in his ear. "Unless you want the same as your friend down there."
As Mark watched, Zac was pulled to his feet, though he appeared unable to straighten up and tears of pain spilled down across his face. With Zac's normally happy go lucky attitude and natural self-confidence, coupled with his immense power, it was sometimes easy to forget that he was only eleven years old. Now, however, he looked every bit the young boy he really was.
Within seconds all of the boys were securely cuffed, including a semiconscious Paul and a completely unconscious Florian. The cops had seen some of the things that these boys could do and were obviously taking no chances. Though in other circumstances, Mark might have actually laughed. Merely being restrained hardly prevented the use of mental powers.
A large van manoeuvred its way between the blazing cars and pulled up a few yards away. As the backdoors were pulled open the boys were partly carried, partly dragged towards it. Florian was lifted inside and Paul quickly followed.
"Hold it!" A large man, slightly balding, with the overhanging stomach that indicated a few liquid lunches too many had pushed through the surrounding police. A couple of officers moved to intercept him but he quickly put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a warrant card. "Chief Superintendent Alan Slone." The officers backed off. "Get the cuffs off these lads," he said, mildly.
"But sir,..." this was from the man who had punched Zac.
"I said, get those cuffs off." This time there was nothing mild about the man's tone. He gave the command in a way that left no room for argument. With obvious reluctance the officers released all the boys.
As soon as Mark's hands were free he headed straight for the burly policeman who had punched Zac. "That how you get your kicks?" he snarled. "He's only eleven years old for chrisake!"
The officer sneered curled his lip in a mixture of a grin and a sneer and beckoned Mark forwards. "Come on prettyboy, if you want to try your luck." Suddenly he doubled over, holding his head, then dropped to his knees whimpering in pain.
Mark glanced around to see Dayle giving him a tight-lipped smile. "HE'D HAVE MADE MINCEMEAT OF YOU. BESIDES, THEY'D JUST LOVE ANOTHER EXCUSE TO CUFF YOU AGAIN. MUCH BETTER THIS WAY, HE'LL HAVE A HEADACHE THAT WILL LAST FOR DAYS!"
"What's the matter with him?" The chief superintendent asked, speaking to everyone in general as he looked towards downed policeman. With no obvious answer forthcoming he appeared to dismiss the matter. He turned to the Corps members. "Which of you is Mark?"
"I am." Mark stepped forwards and the senior policeman took his hand, shaking it firmly.
"Alan Slone, I'm liaison officer between the Corps and the Met."
"Could have done you here half an hour ago," said Mark.
"So I gather. I came as soon as I could. I was off duty, but luckily I was in the area when they managed to track me down. It looks like you managed to get the problem under control. Is there anything you need that I can help you with?"
Mark nodded. "We could do with some transport." Somehow they had to get back to the London base. Paul had come round and was now standing on his own, though leaning a little on Dayle for support, but the teleporter was not yet in a fit state to think about making jumps. Besides, Paul wouldn't be able to take more than three passengers anyway and they now had Florian to consider. Zac could teleport and could probably even take someone along with him, but besides being extremely tired from keeping up the shield, he was also inexperienced and had never visited the London base, so he wouldn't be able to make a jump there. Come to think of it, where was Zac? Looking around, Mark spotted him standing over on his own. He was leaning against the wall of the school building and holding his side, crying softly. Mark cursed himself for not thinking of the boy sooner. "Chief Superintendent, I'm sorry but there's something I must take of. If you speak to Dayle he'll tell you what we need."
Hurrying across to Zac, Mark pulled the boy to him and hugged him gently. Immediately, what had been a few tears became a flood. Zac gripped tightly onto the thick sweatshirt Mark was wearing, repeatedly saying the words "I'm sorry," over and over. Mark just held the boy, stroking his hair until the worst of the crying was done. "You've nothing to be sorry about, Zac," he said, gently. "You were brilliant, the whole time. No one could have held a shield like that as long as you did. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been able to heal Florian. He would have died. It's thanks to you as much as anyone that he's still alive. I'm really proud of you Zac."
Zac wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up, trying to force a smile but only half succeeding.
"Does your side hurt?" Mark asked. "Can I take a look?"
Nodding, Zac turned away so that Mark could lift the back of the boy's coat and shirt. The left side of Zac's lower back was already turning a dark blue colour. Mark gently stroked the area with his fingers, even this light contact causing the boy to wince. There was a good deal of bruising around the area of his lower ribs but there didn't seem to be anything seriously wrong. He allowed the youngster's clothing to fall back into place.
"That must really hurt. I wish I could heal it for you, but I just don't have the strength left at the moment. When we get back to the London base I'll see if they have a healer available who'll take care of it." Mark put his arm around Zac's shoulders and led him across to the others.
"Chief Superintendent Slone has commandeered a police transport," said Dayle. "Looks like we're all finished up here."
"Yeah," said Mark. "It was touch and go there for a while, but we made it through. I suppose things could have turned out much worse. Come on, let's get back to the London base and then we can worry about how we're going to get home from there."
The journey to the London base took the best part of two and a half hours. The distance they had to travel was not particularly great, but it was, as their driver informed them, early evening and the London rush hour.
Paul pointed out that the term 'rush hour' was especially stupid as it was wrong on two counts. Firstly, no one was able to rush anywhere and secondly it lasted much longer than an hour.
Mark took Paul's complaining as an indication that the young teleporter was starting to recover from his earlier exertions. Further confirmation of this came a little later in their journey, when Paul's growing impatience at the time it was taking led him to announce that he would teleport ahead and wait for them at the base. Mark put a stop to this idea straight away, though he was pleased at Paul's apparently rapid recovery. If the fourteen year old continued to regain his strength at this rate they might just be in with a chance of getting home that day instead of having to spend the night in London. He only wished his own powers would recharge so quickly; he was concerned about Zac. The boy was cuddled up next to him in the police minibus. For most of the time he gave the appearance that he was asleep, but every time the bus hit a bump in the road, Zac would tense up in obvious pain. It was agonising for Mark, watching the boy like this and not being able to help. The healer's only small consolation came from the fact that he knew the thug who had inflicted Zac's injury would at this moment be suffering total misery with the mother of all headaches.
At last they pulled into the base. After watching the bus depart, they took the lift down to the Corps levels, Mark and Dayle carrying Florian between them. Adrian was there to meet them as they stepped out of the lift.
"I can't believe you pulled that off." There was open admiration on the London base leader's face.
"We wouldn't have if not for these guys," said Mark, indicating the other three Task Force members. "They gave everything they had and more besides. First thing though, do you have a decent healer available?"
"Yeah, I think Sam McKenzie is around at the moment. He's got moderate strength healing so as long as it's nothing too serious..."
"No. It doesn't matter," Zac interrupted.
"Zac...?" Mark was puzzled as to why the boy didn't want healing when he was in such obvious discomfort.
"I want you to do it," said Zac, his eyes locked on Mark's.
"I told you, I can't, Zac," said Mark, gently. "It'll be ages yet before I have the strength to heal even a scratch."
"I'll wait," said Zac, stubbornly.
Mark was about to tell Zac not to be so silly and give the boy and outright order to allow himself to be healed when Dayle's mental voice entered his head.
"LEAVE IT, MARK. LET HIM WAIT UNTIL YOU CAN DO IT. THIS IS IMPORTANT TO HIM."
"HAVE YOU BEEN SNOOPING IN HIS MIND?"
Dayle gave the mental equivalent of a smile. "NO, I HAVEN'T BEEN A BAD BOY. HE'S BROADCASTING SUCH STRONG MENTAL IMAGES THAT THERE'S NO NEED FOR ME TO GO INTO HIS HEAD TO KNOW WHAT HE WANTS."
"I guess we can forget about the healer," said Mark to Adrian. "All we need is somewhere to rest up for a couple of hours to give Paul time to get enough strength back to take us home.
"I think I could manage that now," said Paul. "But I can only take three."
"We'll wait a couple more hours anyway, just to be sure," said Mark. "And you don't need to worry about the extra person, I think Zac will be fine teleporting himself, in fact I think I'll even let him carry me along with him, if he feels up to it, that way you'll only have to take Dayle and Florian."
Zac's eyes lit up. "You trust me enough to let me take you on such a long jump?"
"Yeah, I do Zac. But you needn't pretend you haven't had plenty of practice. I know all about how you've been carrying Taylor across to visit William."
"Someone's been telling tales," Zac pouted.
"'Fraid not, Zac," laughed Mark. "You let that one out all on your own. If you want to keep a secret, it's not a good idea to go around the base telling everyone about it."
End of chapter 3
Next: Chapter 4 - "Trouble at home..."
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