Psychic Cassidy Jiménez had been reported missing by her family the night before.

According to Cassidy’s friends, she’d left before a late night streaming moviethon to get some snacks from the nearby 7-Eleven. Her sister and brother-in-law, whom she had been staying with rather than live alone at the mercy of Brain Scythe, had been asleep at the time she’d left.

While she had remained part of the group call, her friends said she went quiet and eventually left the call, and they did not suspect foul play until one of them got in contact with Cassidy’s sister to confirm she was gone.

As per usual, the evidence was scarce: Cassidy’s car was gone, any witnesses in the area hadn’t seen anything, but the only reason Zina suspected that Cassidy actually made it to the parking lot was because the store’s cameras had suffered a malfunction sometime between the times of Cassidy’s disappearance and the presumed time of her arrival.

Zina wanted to feel confident in thinking Brain Scythe’s consistent use of electrokinesis was going to be the lead they needed, but she had to silently admit to herself she wouldn’t bet on their odds.

“Watcha got for us, McCormick?” Zina asked.

The dirty-blonde man, looking well in his late 40’s, walked up to Zina with a short, self-pleased nod. “All the security equipment inside is still operable, it is only the outside cameras that shorted out in the time period described.”

“Good work,” Zina glanced up at the cameras looking down at the parking lot with a frown, “and now?”

“Working just fine. No evidence of physical tampering according to Agent Stermer.”

“As suspected. Check in with Keller, make sure he’s still safe.”

“Understood.” The ESP agent gave a quick salute, paused in embarrassment, then gave a nod before quickly walking away.

Zina let it slide; the ESP were still getting used to working in a more high-level, professional manner. She would have preferred to give them the time they needed to train, but she had limited time and limited clearance to get actual psychics involved.

But, getting back out in the field to keep these rookies on task? It felt damn good.

Director Rickard considered her too valuable to expose to danger, but what choice did they have when she was the most senior agent on staff with a working relationship with the psionic community?

But, of course, she was required by her seniors to take certain precautions. She would have rather had joined the telepathic web DaQuan was managing in the van alongside their equipment, but exposing her to Brain Scythe’s dominants would be an untenable mistake. It still felt weird to wear a privacy band while leading a group of psychics, regardless of reasoning.

She opened the back of the black van and climbed up inside, grumbling beneath her breath about the quality of her knees in her middle-age, and found DaQuan sitting at his monitoring station with his eyes closed, Ai Letterman hovering nearby, eyes also closed.

“See ‘em?” DaQuan asked.

“Leland has entered the building, and Marvin’s getting reads off of both the manager and register guy.” Ai said.

The two went quiet, but then Ai gave a little snicker, and DaQuan wore a smile like he’d told a pretty good joke. It reminded Zina of Maddy and Taz when they were both around; she still wasn’t used to being in on the joke…

“Everything’s one-hundred percent?” Zina asked, stirring the two from their telepathic trance and earning a half-awake nod from DaQuan.

“I’ve got a full three-sixty view of the van and the security tapes secured. Web’s up; give a word and the rest of the Fremen’ll hear it.”

Zina nodded, moving up next to Ai and gesturing to the door. “Letterman, go ahead and get divining.” Ai nodded and moved to obey, but Zina caught her shoulder and gave her a little grin. “Maddy said you're one helluva tutor, don’t prove her wrong.”

Ai looked surprised, but pleased, and hopped out of the narrow van, shutting the doors behind her.

The small server box the 7-Eleven’s security footage was stored on was already hooked up to a monitor for Zina to sit down and examine.

One finger on the fast-forward button, the other on pause, letting her see every patron who visited the store before the cameras outside stopped working. A dumpy, middle-aged white guy buying a pair of lottery tickets and some smokes, a woman looking like she was dressed for bed grabbing something from the medicine aisle, two teens grabbing chips, a bottle of soda, and a box of hot pockets…

Electrokinesis was a dangerous thing in the modern world, and known practitioners – ie, those that had at least two years of electrokinetic education from Phoenix Academy – gained a special note in their Psychic Citizen Profile and Identification on the off-chance a hospital somewhere suffered a power outage and psychic interference was suspected.

Of course, proving there was psychic interference over the much more common brownout, or a circuit malfunction, or a generator blowout, or—the list was endless, but the point was that when a hospital mysteriously blacked out and went on emergency power in the middle of a powered city block, psychic interference went on the list of suspects and names were pulled out of a database.

But, like arson, repeated cases became suspicious, especially when the methods were so similar…

Pair of old black dudes reading the magazines on the rack for forty minutes, a total harpy of a woman – clearly one of their wives – whapping both men with her bag to drive them both out, a guy in a fast food uniform buying dog food and a sandwich…

“Agent Cole?” DaQuan asked, looking back at the suited woman examining the screen with the utmost intensity. “I know we’ve never caught a suspect or anything, but… what do you think we should be looking for?”

Zina mulled the question around in her mind for a moment, watching a greasy looking Mexican guy walk in and argue with the desk clerk a little bit past 9:00 pm…

“Agent Cole?”

“Just a moment, Fox.” Zina worked her lips thoughtfully. “I suspect these terrorists work in groups of two or more, but less than four.”

DaQuan looked back at her curiously. “Yeah?”

“They likely didn’t walk to this gas station and wait for a psychic to arrive. They probably arrived by car, just like Jiménez. These folk might take the name, but they are not the Brain Scythe; it takes time or proximity to keep a person pliable and dominated, so one drove their car off, and the other is either a passenger or a driver in Jiménez’s car. That said, too many folk wandering around as a group tends to look a little shifty, and they’re less likely to spring a leak if they get busted by us.”

“That makes sense.” DaQuan said, pausing for a long while to close his eyes and keep the telepathy web stable. “How do you pick ‘em out, though?”

“Instinct.” Zina answered immediately, watching a pair of kids, black and white, get run out with candy stuffing their pockets. “You spend your life keeping an eye out for trouble, eventually trouble is easy to pick out. The way people act, the way they can look.”

“Is that how you picked out the Brain Scythe?” DaQuan asked curiously. The recording on Zina’s monitor paused so she could turn and shoot DaQuan an icy stare. The man winced, and held a hand up in surrender. “I’m just askin’! They didn’t leave a trail for years, but you up and capture ‘em?”

Zina frowned at DaQuan, and slowly turned back to face her monitor, to continue her watch, thinking to herself. “Pretty much. I followed up on a hunch from Reno, and from there, I followed my nose. Like I said, once you start looking for trouble… and, well, lemme tell you, they stood out.”

DaQuan shrugged his shoulders and nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to get more than that. “I believe ya. Ai’s in—err, Letterman’s in her trance, by the way; she found a good spot behind the store.”

“Good, keep checking in.”

For a moment, Zina was willing to leave it at that as she examined the video tapes further, but DaQuan’s question made her lips purse, and without breaking eye-contact with the video, she spoke up again.

“Fox, can I ask you something about the ESP?”

“What’s that, ma’am?” DaQuan answered, looking back over his shoulder.

With a deep breath, Zina looked back to meet his eye. “Why are you folk so curious about the details of how the Brain Scythe was captured?”

DaQuan blinked, and clapped his hands together. “Well, why wouldn’t we be? Nobody knew how or why ol’ Scythey disappeared, and alluva sudden we’re told that not only are they alive, but in FBI lockdown. I mean, I’d be acting the same way if you told me Tupac was alive and kept around for his rap game.”

“I wish that were true.” Zina shook her head and smirked. “But,” she quickly frowned again, giving DaQuan a piercing stare, “remember what I said about intuition? I get the feeling there’s more than just surface-level curiosity.”

DaQuan tilted his head a little bit at that, briefly closed his eyes, probably creating a private line of telepathic communication between two of the other agents before he answered.

“Well, uh, it may or may not be somethin’ you’d be happy to hear, but the Brain Scythe is a pretty common subject on the PA campus.” He said with an almost apologetic tone. “Who were they? Why’d they do it? What happened to ‘em? And, well…” His tone drifted off.

“Well what, Fox?” Zina pressed.

DaQuan made a fist, and with a putter of his lips, caught it in his other hand over his belly. “People, well… mainly the kids on campus—not all of ‘em, I mean, just a handful, uh…” He cleared his throat. “You know, they get pissy that they can’t use their powers back home like they can at PA. Once you give ‘em that taste of freedom, they go home and feel boxed in having to go everywhere with a privacy band, or getting looked at like they’re gum on the street.”

He winced. “And teaching psionic history, y’know, they learn about the oppression, and the counter-oppression, and you kinda root for your own side, y’know? So some of them get it in their heads that psychics don’t just deserve better, but normies deserve worse.”

Zina’s brow furrowed. “And they view the Brain Scythe as some sorta centralized figure? The character who spent the last year he was active murdering psychic leaders?”

“Yeah, y’know, mainly humanist ones with the exception of the Fullbrights.” DaQuan squirmed uncomfortably. “Some of them admire the Brain Scythe’s power, think they were an example to live up to, y’know? Being so high and mighty and feared that the rest of the world changes around you.”

Zina wanted to argue semantics for a moment, because of course the very idea left her with an astonishingly bad taste in her mouth, but she stopped. “And what does the faculty do to stop this belief?”

“Well, I mean, you know Professor Burke always hosts one-race events, and the Dean will drag anyone he hears talking kindly about the Brain Scythe into his office to dress ‘em down real harsh-like.” DaQuan gave a little laugh at that. “Boy, he nearly ripped apart a Scion Society gathering when a kid talked about using his powers to make his friends and family more ‘comfortable’ with his powers, and I ain’t talkin’ about the little helpful stuff, but reading their minds and such. He was a real conspiracy nutcase…”

Zina’s fingers drummed the desk she was at in slowly growing anxiety. “And do these beliefs usually get curtailed before they graduate and leave?”

DaQuan inhaled thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Hard to say. We don’t have any more control over the kids once they leave the school.”

Zina turned to fully face the computer monitor, her brow furrowing deeper, a frown crossing her face. Superiority was a feeling a lot of human beings enjoyed, whether or not it was deserved, but having powers was an easy slope down to becoming an oppressive person…

This didn’t answer the ‘why’, but suddenly, Zina wondered if she had a ‘who…’

She hardly noticed DaQuan's sudden feeling of disquiet, until he spoke up in a lowered voice. “Uh, Agent Cole?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “We have a situation.”

Zina straightened up in an instant, agitation running through her body from head to toe. “Lord have mercy, Fox, don’t just say we have a situation, what is it?!” She demanded.

“The van cameras are out, ma’am!” DaQuan said in a panic, typing frantically into his computer.

Zina whirled on him to check the cameras only to see static. Her blood ran cold in an instant, and she quickly tapped DaQuan’s arm. “Fox, contact the team on the web.”

“Right right, yes ma’am!” DaQuan stopped fiddling with his keyboard and sat back.

Zina watched anxiously, withdrawing her pistol with sweat forming on the back of her neck beneath her hair. Maybe it wasn’t them, maybe it was just a malfunction—

“M-my web’s blocked.”

“What?!” Zina hissed, giving DaQuan a quick, scathing glance.

“I’m trying to send messages out but there’s some kind of psionic interference!” He said in a low voice, and Zina could see the man starting to breathe more raggedly. “I-it must be some sort of telepathic block play; they detect the bridge and fill it with emptiness, it’s like screaming into a wall!”

Zina settled a hand on DaQuan’s shoulder. “Fox, calm down. Deep breaths.” Zina ordered, before reaching up to touch the communicator at her ear. “Stermer, we have a situation here, return with the full team.”

Silence followed.

“Stermer, report.”

Then a burst of painful static noise, and Zina ripped the device out of her ear with a wince, tossing it onto a nearby surface and massaging her ear hole as the whine faded away.

“Agent Cole?” DaQuan asked, but it wasn’t in a calm and curious tone, Zina could hear the fear in his voice, and the trepidation in his posture. They weren’t expecting this right away, and DaQuan hadn’t been through enough training to handle this shit…

“We’re blind and deaf right now, Fox.” Zina spoke honestly, keeping her pistol in hand, and one eye on the locked van doors. “We can’t get the team from in here, but lord knows what’s waiting for us outside, so sit tight and grab your piece.”

DaQuan shakily pulled his FBI-issued pistol from his holster and held it up, not sure where to point. Zina tried to give him a reassuring look, like they would be okay.

And then the lights in the van went out, the equipment buzzing and sparking for a moment before the electricity cut out completely.

All Zina could hear was her own heartbeat, and DaQuan’s anxious breathing. “Fox, I am ordering you to keep calm.” She said with a sternness in her voice that she hoped he understood was for his own sake.

“M-maybe I can make a little light. Mimicry ain’t my forte but—”

There was a click, and the doors to the back of the van opened up slowly, letting them stare out into the dark, empty parking lot, a cool wind blowing in and tickling their faces.

The both of them trained their firearms on the open doors, and Zina felt a nervousness surge within her. “Fox, close the doors.” Zina ordered.

“Y-ya sure?” He asked with a gulp.

“They’re out there, we’re in here. If they wanted us dead, they coulda done more than spook us.” Zina hissed.

He swallowed nervously and concentrated, but the doors didn’t so much as twitch. He squinted, pulling harder, the doors audibly shuddering under the strain, but they remained wide open.

“Ma’am?” He asked.

Zina kept her gun trained on the doors, and took a step forward. “Fox, cover my six.”

DaQuan’s eyes widened, as if he’d never expected to be given that order off of a Hollywood set. “O-oh shit, okay.” He answered, his excitement throttled by his nervousness as Zina slowly moved to the edge of the van.

Eyes open, ears alert, Zina kept in tune for anything strange, and briefly moved her off-hand from her gun to grab the van door’s indoor handle.

Something brushed against the back of her head, both above and below the latch of her privacy band.

She whirled in a sudden burst of motion, releasing a growl of exertion as her elbow caught something in the air, and she slammed the bulk of the unseen thing against the side of the van.

It felt like a hand was pressing against her face, and she felt another twist her wrist until she dropped her gun, but she lunged forward with a headbutt, stopping just short of slamming into the wall, but now she felt flesh against her cheek, and heard their breathing.

Her arm still keeping the figure pinned to the wall, she wrenched her hand loose from the invisible person’s grasp and quickly withdrew a knife from her belt, and plunged the six inch stiletto into something soft.

A loud gasp filled the van, and a young asian woman suddenly appeared against the wall, her eyes unfocused from pain as she stared down at the blade nestled in her belly. She was wearing a yellow, turning red tank top, and pink jogging pants, with a pair of tennis shoes. She looked like a jogger, but as Zina withdrew her knife, she saw a piece on the girl’s hip.

She quickly flipped the girl around and grabbed her wrist, the girl smearing blood on the wall as she growled and wailed as she fought Zina’s strong grasp.

“Fox, cuffs, quick!” Zina shouted.

DaQuan took a step forward, before a sharp ‘pop’ caused a spray of blood to burst from the right of his chest, then shoulder, a pained howl coming out of him as he fell to the floor on his elbows and knees.

Zina stared in shock, then twisted her head to stare outside, and three quick flashes lit up the night.

It felt like three sharp punches up her right hip, ribs, and forearm, and a piercing burn filled her body where she had been shot, making her stumble away from the woman. Zina slammed against the wall behind her and crumbled against the equipment nearby, barely on her feet from adrenaline alone as the pain spread across her arm, torso, and thigh, the knife falling from her hand.

The asian woman wheezed and held her hand against the stab wound in her belly, turning to glare at Zina with a wicked smile.

Then, a second figure appeared. A man, blacker than anybody Zina had ever seen, wearing nothing fancier than a sleeveless grey hoodie, Zina’s pistol in his hand and a smile similar to the woman’s.

“Agent Zina Cole.” The man said in a deep, American voice, looking satisfied with himself as Zina panted and tried to keep consciousness so the shock wouldn’t take her. “We’d wanted to take you alive, but they’ll accept dead, too. On behalf of the Brain Scythe, go to Hell.”

Zina closed her eyes and grit her teeth, her mind quickly racing through faces in her life: Randal’s, Jebediah’s, Madeline’s, Teddy’s, Anna’s, Taz and Melodica’s… she didn’t have time to mourn her own loss in that moment, she just hoped to God somebody killed these assholes for her.

Then, the man ahead of her gave a yelp of pain, or frustration, it was hard to tell, and when Zina looked, his dark hands were covered in a layer of shining frost, the gun’s hammer refusing to move as he weakly pulled the trigger. A shot from the back of the truck preceded a sudden shower of blood from the man’s throat, his expression staring past Zina in shock as DaQuan, leaning on his unwounded shoulder, put another bullet in the man’s chest, knocking him flat on his back.

The asian girl from the other side of the van stared in silent shock, and Zina’s knife flew to her hand, leaving streaks of blood where the blade grazed her fingers before she could grab the handle.

She lunged, but Zina threw her body to the side, the knife scraping harmlessly against the van’s metal wall, and Zina swung her shoulder into the smaller woman, sending her stumbling back against the opposite wall, dazed, bloodied, and a moment later, her dying shriek cut short by a bullet straight to the heart.

The woman fell unceremoniously out of the van onto the parking lot next to to the man, both still and silent

Zina stared, breathing heavily, the danger suddenly overtaken by a sense of relief, the adrenaline draining away to pain.

“Agent Cole?!” DaQuan called out, breathing hard as Zina slowly slid down the wall into a sitting position, holding her arm and feeling herself beginning to disassociate with the world at large, only feeling the pulsing, swelling pains in her side.

“Good work… Fox…” Zina managed to grunt.

“Agent Cole! Agent Cole!” She heard from the parking lot, the other ESP racing over with alarmed looks, but they were all fuzzy to Zina as their shouting fell to muffled ears.

She could feel them moving around her, Stermer wrapping her wounds up, their eyes filling her vision as they stared in worry.

Stermer aside, they were a bunch of fresh fish who, on their first mission out, were now swimming in a pond full of blood. They were ESP, they knew how to handle field wounds since anything could happen on PA, lord knew how many gunshots they had to handle…

But this? It was out of their hands.

It didn’t take long for the parking lot to fill up with flashing red and blue lights.