"This must be what it feels like to be one of those creepy billionaire stalkers from a shitty romance novel," Abby remarked, throwing her feet up on the table and munching on a piece of popcorn. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear, and Dan found himself distracted by the curve of her neck. She noticed him out of the corner of her vision, turned, and rolled her eyes.

"Eyes on the prize, mister," she said, gesturing at the television screen. Dan grumbled under his breath, but obeyed. He returned his attention to the TV, where Senator Meriwether Madison was holding a meeting with his staff. He'd returned to Washington only hours before, and was outlining his campaign's new plan of action. There was no sound, but the old man's enthusiasm was very clear. He gesticulated, wildly, at the room, while everyone present took frantic notes.

Dan strummed a mental string. With creaky, wavering focus, noise crackled into being. The tinny, distant voice of Madison bellowed enthusiastically, "—will not let this incident impact our legislation plans for a single goddamn second! You've all been given copies of this morning's polling results. We can use this, but we have to move quickly, and carefully. Public opinion is a wild, dangerous thing—"

Dan tuned it out, completely uninterested in the man's political scheming. Everything said was being recorded, and he'd ship it off to Anastasia's people for analysis at the end of the day. Instead he focused on maintaining the connection, the splitting of focus, as his veil juggled two distinct actions at the same time. Dan was reminded of those multi-tasking challenges he used to see on the internet, where ambidextrous people simultaneously wrote different sentences with each hand. He tried to let the act fade into the background, to become an instinct that he could put on autopilot.

He lasted fifty seconds, before the sound fizzled, and cut out once more.

Abby patted Dan on the shoulder and exclaimed, "That was better! You just need to keep practicing." She wrinkled her nose. "It's too bad this setup isn't really mobile."

She was referring to the two portal junctions Dan had set up in his living room, from which he'd based his voyeur operation. It'd actually been really simple to execute, once he'd stumbled upon the idea. He'd taken a sound proof box, run his fiber optic camera cable into it, and connected the viewing device to his television. He used the inside of the box as a portal platform, shrinking the edges of the portal entrance so that it locked the camera into place. Then, Dan repeated the process with his laser microphone for audio.

The issue came when combining the two devices. Dan could probably widen the portal enough to accommodate both the microphone and the camera, but he didn't want to do that. He wanted two independent portals, so each could be moved from location to location as necessary. Unfortunately, the process of maintaining these two separate doorways was far from easy. Dan could do it in short bursts with some consistency, but the instant he started thinking about what he was doing, it tended to fail.

Practice, he reminded himself. Make it muscle memory, so far as his veil could be compared to a muscle.

He pushed his will out onto the world, and the sound came back on. Dan spent the next hour listening to a political strategy meeting, without having any of the prerequisite knowledge or context. Abby picked up a little more, but was just as blind as Dan to the greater political landscape. They both agreed, though, that Madison did not seem rattled by his recent misfortune, so much as he was invigorated.

There was a sort of bouncy enthusiasm to the man which completely defied both his age and bearing. It was even more obvious when comparing photos from the past few years. Meriwether Madison was— well, not to put too fine a point on it, but he was old as shit. Older than Anastasia, older that Marcus Mercury. The man was older than the trees surrounding his home, and twice as weathered.

He looked good... for his age. But nobody could ever look at the man and think he was anything less than seventy. It was in his posture, his expressions, his general way of being. An old man, in a slightly less old body. Not now, though. Now he looked flush, and alive. Conflict had invigorated him in a way that life never had. Needless to say, Dan did not see this as a positive sign.

Nevertheless, nothing particularly incriminating was said by the time the meeting finally concluded. Madison left the building, accompanied by a bodyguard and secretary. Dan dutifully swiped his hand, reorienting his portal to capture Madison's descent into a parking garage. The senator and his retinue piled into the vehicle and took off to their next meeting.

Dan hadn't quite managed the trick of attaching his doorways to a moving object, so sound was unfortunately out of the question. He was forced to tail the car, jumping viewpoints block by block, with no real idea of what was being discussed within. Dan had briefly entertained the idea of trying to track the laser mic onto the moving vehicle, but that seemed nearly impossible barring extreme traffic. Instead, he settled for opening a portal at every intersection, catching snippets of conversation here and there, if only to reassure himself that nothing obviously conspiratorial was being discussed.

Abby brought up Madison's public itinerary on her laptop and scanned its contents. She hummed to herself, and said, "I don't see anything scheduled for a couple of hours."

Dan leaned over to peek at the screen. She was right.

"Lunch break?" he suggested, checking the time. A little late in the day for it, but a politician's schedule was a hectic, ever-changing creature. They certainly weren't about to go anywhere too suspicious in their government-issued limousine. The damn thing's movements were probably tracked and saved in a database somewhere.

Dan kept juggling portals as the vehicle trundled along. He was unfamiliar with the streets of D.C., so Abby had brought up a map on her laptop, and was following the limo's route in real time. They currently puttered through a high-end suburb, one untouched by the fairly rampant crime of the capitol. There were sprawling mansions on either side of the street, each a football field away from their neighbor. The car drove past without slowing.

"Does he have a house around here?" Dan asked, and Abby consulted her laptop. She scrolled through the senator's public website, where it listed his personal information.

Her brow furrowed. "Nothing listed here. He could have a secret one, I guess, but the paparazzi would've found it by now. The man's been in office forever."

"A friend, then," Dan guessed. "A lunch meeting."

Abby's finger traced a path along the map she'd brought up. She grunted, "I don't think so." She swapped tabs, back to the campaign website. She tapped a list of sponsors. "Look here."

Dan squinted at the page. "The Church of Evolution Everlasting?" A laugh bubbled free from his chest. "The heck? Sounds like a cult."

"It is a cult," Abby replied, matter-of-factly. She flipped back to the map, and scrolled up the street. One of the church's locations sat at the top of a hill overlooking the homey suburb. "You see?"

"What's a senator doing visiting a cult?" Dan asked. "No. Wrong question. Why is it that a cult is openly donating to the man, and nobody cares?"

"Because, they donate to everyone," Abby explained, flipping her hand in a 'duh' gesture. "And I mean everyone. I assume that's how they've kept their tax-exempt status for so long, but you'd have to ask Mama Ana to be sure. In Madison's case, I'd guess it's because their interests are somewhat aligned. The Evo Church is a Natural-friendly organization. That's, like, the whole basis of their religion. They claim that cosmic radiation unlocks the next step in human evolution, and that we cannot reach our destined perfection until the whole world consists of Naturals." She paused, crinkled her nose, and added, "I think there's also something about aliens from the future arriving to mate with humanity to produce fourth-dimensional beings. I don't know."

"Isn't that in-line with what the People believe," Dan asked. "I mean, except for the last bit?"

"Not exactly," Abby hedged. "The People have always talked more about man's potential, and how upgrades artificially limit it, and other nonsense of that nature. The Evo Church claims to be pacifist, and they've stuck to that pretty hard. I don't think any member has ever been caught doing vigilante stuff... though I believe they sponsored a few independent teams back in the day. It's a big organization, but they're pretty insular. Common consensus is the higher-ups are just quietly milking that tax-exempt status for all its worth, draining their members dry with tithes. I doubt they'd risk making waves and disrupting the cushy gig they've got going on."

Dan eyed the television screen, watching as the limo cruised towards its destination. The megachurch at the top of the hill was the size of a football stadium and ten times as gaudy. It was built like a Roman cathedral with a modern twist. Marble palisade surrounded its edges and every arch was gilded and gleaming. The windows were stained glass, depicting religious scenes that Dan couldn't even begin to recognize. The entrance was a pair of gargantuan doors, thirty feet tall and ten wide apiece.

It kinda looked like Dan's house, but more new and bright.

The limousine pulled into the parking lot, and Madison stepped out, alone. He straightened his suit, adjusted his tie, and strolled confidently towards the entrance. Dan licked his lips, and started poking at the inside of the building with his veil. This was always the most dangerous part of his technique, exploring someplace new that might be filled with Naturals of unknown capabilities. But he trusted his own power, and his own precautions.

He found what seemed like a promising nook in the ceiling, and opened a doorway.

"Alright," Dan said, "Let's see what the cultists have to say."