Discovered * Admonished * Revealed

Rikky slowly walked through the wide, pristine halls of the French G.U.A.R.D. headquarters, shoulders squared, but eyes lowered. Though it'd been announced earlier that the main headquarters in America would soon be ready again for habitation, the young man felt no excitement over it; he had only been there once and it had resulted in his first blood... Rikky had killed. He still felt mixed emotions over the incident. It needed to be done, true.... Travesty had been completely beyond help, even that of the strongest telepaths. Added to that, she'd brutally torn apart the laborers, machinery and landscape of the base. Plus, Rikky reminded himself, she had tried to kill him, certain he was that Other, Aerik. The youth pulled his delicate black brows together in the knit of a frown at the memory. Aerik. While that was Rikky's true name, he abhorred it with a passion for reasons he could both name and reasons nameless.

PsiClone, Rikky's offical File Name, was exactly what his monicker marked as: a psionic clone, genetically identical to his twin brother, this Aerik Winters everyone seemed to hate. Everyone but the female telepath, Jesse Raymond, File Named: Ei-Que. Oh, she was marvelous, possessed of an incredible mind, intellect, power, and a singular loveliness Rikky had yet to see rivalled. And she loved Aerik. How this was possible, Rikky didn't know. But then, Sai Canaan had loved Aerik too, whether the syntant wanted to admit it or not, and Sai did not want to admit it. Instead, the mutant youth had built up a wall of anger, hurt and hatred to protect himself. The clone knew though, was very aware, that Sai still loved. And while Rikky had been able to dampen the pain Sai felt the truth, which was also false, still remained. Sai Canaan and Ei-Que... both ex-GUARD, both priority bring-backs, both Rikky could have secured, as he had Venin, but did not.

Now, Venin had escaped with the help of Jesse, Sai's own clone Zakai and several other R.UN.ners. This was not only an embarrassment, but completely unsatisfactory. ANd where had Rikky been? He'd been with Sai... now he was in trouble. Long pale fingers pulled through a glorious mane of shimmering onyx as the ESPer raked his digits through his shortened hair, frown deepening. They knew, he was sure of it, why else would the Highlord himself command an audience? Rikky didn't enjoy being in trouble, no one did, and this was sure to be an admonishment indeed. Perhaps, he thought as he slowed his walk even further into a procrastinating stroll, he could draw upon what he knew of his brother's modus operendi and use this against the Highlord. But while Rikky knew Aerik could easily be catagorized as a bastard, he was as yet unaware of the insanity which plagued the more powerful of the two; most seemed unaware of this fact, which made sense, for Aerik was not one to broadcast it. Shields so tight one could bounce the proverbial quarter off them, let down for no one, an illusive creature as much as elusive, Aerik widely remained an enigma. As did Rikky himself.... no one, not in the GUARD or perhaps anywhere else, knew what Rikky was beyond utterly inhuman. Yet Aerik had several natural cousins and one unnatural cousin, a well-known Rogue Unnatural File Named: Whitefyre, who was human as one of their kind could be. Still, Aerik and Rikky remained painfully something else.

His lack of easy catagorization had been the catalyst of many a GUARD scientists' argument of speculation. Rikky heard there was even a pool going among them, bets taken on what he was truly. So far, no winners and fewer answers. Shadowgold orbs flickedpward, a natural reaction as he felt the psionic shielding stretch into place. While he couldn't see anything, he certainly could feel it; the very air seeming to weigh heavier, smothering, constricting as layer after layer of of carefully applied psi-netting tightened the further he approached the Highlord's office. Soon it would become like plates of lead, impenetrable, solid, stifling... already the telepath experienced trouble breathing, all his mental abilities shutting down.

It was also so and would always be so, the Highlord was very well protected against psionic assaults, and this trap followed him wherever he went... a field so thick Rikky's head began to pound under the sheer magnitude of it. Moaning softly, he realized this would not be pleasant. Indeed, even unnatural powers were dampened to the point of non-existance in this man's presence, not just psionics; a safeguard, to be sure. Always strong, it was made many times more so by the late telelpath Razorshred. Rikky doubted even the legendary Eclipse could pierce such shielding. As he was so contemplating, he paused before the office door, straightening his tall frame best he could considering the extreme discomfort, and raised his hand to knock. A soft masculine voice stopped him before knuckles connected with... whatever it was of which the door was made... and bade him enter.

Rikky smiled wryly to himself, thinking he should not be surprised, though to think was a difficulty. He'd passed so many security checks and cameras along the way, his arrival was hardly unexpected. A gentle turn of the metal latch, soft push, and the young psionic's eyes were greeted by that which lay beyond the portculus; a vast and sprawling chamber, quite modern in appearance and boasting an enviable view of the French countryside (or what appeared to be a view of the lanscape beyond the building, at any rate). ONe wall was wholly windows, though Rikky seriously doubted the panes were glass at all but some substance far more resiliant. The door closed noislessly behind him as he edged inside, feet equally soundless on the obviously expensice Japanese-style rugs layed tastefully over the short-pile carpet. Slightly startled by the other occupants in the room, Rikky scooted to the side, awaiting his turn.

The Highlord was a powerful looking man, impossible to pinpoint his age save to guess he appeared roughly 45 years old and easily full-blooded Japanese. His hair was still a thick and shining black, course but receeding. Still, he held a dignified air and presented himself as well groomed with his mane pulled tightly back into a fetlock high on his head. He wasn't overly tall, but displayed a massive presence as if he filled the entire room.

At present the Highlord sat behind a gorgeous dark cherrywood desk and on the edge of a plush, armed chair, leaning forward to speak to another in his soft, calming voice only slightly touched by an identifying accent. "You've done well, Agent Foxglove," he praised. "Your work both inside and outside the Bureau is commendable. You and your partner have exceeded our expectations, and I always look forward to your reports. " The Highlord smiled softly, then leaned back against the seat. Agent Foxglove grinned in return of the compliments and bowed his head respectfully. An attractive man in his early thirties or so, well-enough built and enthusiastic, Rikky knew Foxglove to be what was termed a "mole", a hidden plant either among naturals or unnaturals, under GUARD employ and surveillance. While Agent Foxglove was unnatural with a specific kind of psionic ability; that of suggestion, almost an infectious, mind-clinging voice, presence, passion and fervor that could often win-over the weaker minded and invade even those of vastly strong will; his partner, Dana, was simply a brilliant natural with a penchant for disbelieving anything science was not able to easily and firmly explain away. She was yin to his yang, logic to fancy, a grounding force set inside the Federal Bureau of Investigation to debunk Foxglove's claims and therefore create confusion… which worked quite well. Things rarely ever just happened in Rikky's world, few events simply unfolded…. The Highlord had his hands in almost every aspect of everything worldwide. And while he'd set up Foxglove's infiltration of the Bureau, he'd accomplished it so subtly that others believed it was themselves, not the Highlord of whom they knew nothing anyway, who'd planted the Agent for their own motives. This suited the GUARD just fine, as those motives were ones given these others by the GUARD decades ago. It helped keep the public eye gazing upward or inward or into the ether of both rather than focusing on the truth of what lay right before them. And these other men, with their goal and fantasies and beliefs were simply all pawns employed to keep the fabrication viable. Rikky smiled wryly to himself. It was all so intricate, so complicated, and yet so simple it had to be admired. Even the ones wh thought they were running the show, who knew the truth, who knew all and controlled all, were just pieces of a much bigger game. Truth was subjective and they would never know it fully, but go about their lives believing in strange black-oil afflictions, extra-terrestrial threats, interstellar bargains, and cosmic slavery. Rikky let his vision dance over to another in the room and knew immediately why he was there…Psi-Warp, the clone's teacher, mentor and the closest thing Rikky had to a friend. The other telepath broke visual contact with the discussors at the desk to meet Rikky's gaze briefly, punctuating it with a small nod of greeting. Psi-Warp was a young psionic with a very special gift of illusion, in a sense. In magical terms it might be called Glamouries, and he was a master with them, often re-inventing another's memories by replaying a scene over and over again, a scene so real it becomes reality, and the old memory is falsified, often dropping away or pushed so far back it becomes less than dream. Psi-Warp was so adept at his craft that he could submerge the 'true' memories until an event or a word caused them to surface… not unlike a hypnotist planting a keyword which would trigger a hidden act or recalling. His unnatural talents were unlike any others' and even Rikky didn't fully comprehend them, only that they were so potent it would take a telepath of his own personal caliber or higher to unravel successfully. Psi-Warp was possessed of other abilities as well, but there was something special, solid, about his mind-warps. A great deal of power was needed to re-write a mind, to totally remove, not just submerge thoughts beliefs, ideals… so few telepaths had enough skill to accomplish the tasks much less hide their tracks and tampering. Psi-Warp's brand of brainwashing never touched an individual's mind directly and allowed for the victim to do it all on his own instead. No tracks to cover, nothing to hide. Psi-Warp turned his attention back to the couple and sat quietly against the backrest of his chair, head tilted to rest his pale blonde mane on the window pane that touched his shoulders. A lovely man, really, with very pretty, sharp features, and large blue eyes. Like Rikky, like most GUARD ESPers, he wore snug clothing of all black.

Rikky took the time to nod greetings towards the others present… Old Scratch himself rested in a chair near the corner, legs crossed and appearing miserable in the extreme. The Eshva child didn't doubt why… the room choked off psionics and unnatural talents. A man like Ian Christopher, the first and oldest unnatural, was surely taking a small jaunt down insanity lane with his inherent talents severed. How would it be, Rikky wondered, to live that long, always have certain abilities to count on, then lose them in so oppressive a manner? It looked like hell, he decided, Scratch's eyes darting everywhere to cover the loss of his other senses among other things. The telepath thought Scratch nodded back but couldn't be sure. Warpole, however, visibly returned the greeting. He leaned casually against the wall near the door, arms folded over his barrel-like chest and probably waiting to escort Psi-Warp and Foxglove from the office. Both were precious commodities though Warpole seemed to fidget a bit. Blackgold eyes narrowed slightly and Rikky nodded to himself. Most likely Pole, too, had been chastised since his power lay in cybernetics and no where else. Rikky suddenly remembered that, according to the hallway gossip-chain, Pole had been absent during the break-out as well.

The only one in the chamber Rikky did not greet was the figure standing protectively behind the Highlord; tall and slender was the female, with long black hair falling in soft waves down her back, large brown eyes and cinnamon skin. Her features, too, held just the hint of Asian background making her both beautiful and exotic. Jayde, the highly competent personal bodyguard of the 'Lord himself. It was whispered nothing could harm her, certainly no natural and even unnaturals would find a terrible challenge in it. She, herself, was neither, but kept the secret of what, exactly, she was or from whence she hailed. Jayde wore little, outfitted in tight clothing; a black bolero jacket and black thigh-high boots boasting an impressive and chunky heel, and a jade-colored strapless, thonged bodysuit with fancy pipe-work cording throughout it in an elegant manner. Whether she wore this for ease of movement, though Rikky doubted the jacket would not be, in some way, restrictive or for simple physical appeal was unknown. Perhaps both. Then again, one so powerful as she may not have to mind the cumbersome layers of apparel as others might.

What none of them realized was that it only suited Jayde's fancy to appear as a woman… she was an it and could easily slip sexes to display herself as a male as well. Jayde was a Darkeling, of the clan labeled -Wyckyd-; the product of a Darke Lord and a human. Of all six Darkeling clans, only the Wyckyd gestated within a female Darke Lord though form, for these Lords, proved arbitrary. The other five Darke Lords who could reproduce, six in all out of many, chose to wear the bodies of men, impregnating women who would bear the crossbreed child to term; the Lords could not be bothered with such mundane functions, nor had the desire. Bhavani, mother of the Wyckyd, had her reasons for what she did, of course… the duration of her pregnancies were quite short, lasting all of three months and the offspring squeezed out full grown. This naturally caused problems, for the humanity of the Wyckyd suffered greatly, warped, twisted, and all but lost. The results were spectacular; a Darkeling possessed of all the powers this rare breed of demon naturally obtained through the mixing of bloods and of malicious spirit meeting flesh, a blood gift of sex-shifting (all clans held their own bloodgift and this particular one made it all but impossible to keep track of Wyckyd numbers), a demon both immune to magic and unwilling to cast them, all under the dubious slip-shop control of the most wretched, sadistic, violent, blood-lusting, depraved, and evil of any Darkeling. The other five clans despised the revolting creatures, creating aeons worth of enmity between them all, though few good relations stood among any Darkelings save perhaps direct siblings. It was a whole other world Jayde represented, a completely different set of rules, trusts, battles, hatreds, and creeds that touched upon the fringes of the Unnaturals simply by standing in her presence, and the Unnatural world already touched fringes with the Natural. Natural to Unnatural to Supernatural, the latter more powerful and explosive. And while the Highlord had his questions, even often pressing Jayde with them, she rarely answered but with a cryptic smile or enigmatic word.

Despite this, for even Jayde desired to keep her personal life out of her work life, the two worlds had scraped against each other more than once in the past with devastating results to either party. And as Rikky kept his eyes averted, feeling or hearing something even the shields could not keep at bay, her own narrowed at him suspiciously, holding on him. She was magic-blind, yet something seemed horribly familiar about this one. Neither had laid sight on the other before, Rikky had never spoken directly to the Highlord, few did, but Jayde felt the oddest kind of familiarity, a sense of deja-vu… Rikky did as well, frowning as the air, no the shadows, little pieces of night, seemed to whisper into his ears, things unintelligible for now but pertaining to the terrible, twisted creature who was paid to protect the Highlord at all costs.

The young clone decided to focus all his attention on the scene before him, at the desk; Foxglove and the Highlord, though Jayde's brown eyes continued to bore into his profile.

"---- Of course you will be compensated," the Highlord was saying. "And more, I've decided to give you a raise. Naturally, you'll remember nothing of this discussion once you leave the compound, Psi-Warp will attend to that as usual, but you needn't worry about retirement. You'll have all you need to live quite comfortably in addition to a federal pension and residual benefits. We are all very pleased with your work in the field."

Foxglove smiled and maybe even blushed softly in the wake of such high praise. Ducking his head almost meekly, he looked up at the 'Lord through his lashes. "Thank you, sir. It's been an honor."

Rikky knew that in the presence of the Highlord, Foxglove remembered all he was, who he worked for, everything he was disallowed to recall on the outside in order to keep any nosey psionics from unearthing his true identity. It was doubtful even Rikky would be able to glean the truth from the Agent in a mindscan because Psi-Warp made the façade the truth; indeed there was no façade. Now, one could question the validity of the Highlord's claim; if one couldn't remember, how could one know he was being paid for a job well done? The clone decided it boiled down to trust and the Highlord was trustworthy if nothing else. Something about honor. Rikky guessed many would shrug off the promise of a raise or what have you and just as many wouldn't understand the expenditure of capitol or resources that need not be expended, but the Highlord made certain his word was upheld, even if the recipient would never recall the word being given. The 'Lord could be ruthless, but he was definitely worthy of the utmost respect.

The Asian man stood, nodding, the actions signaling the end of the interview. Foxglove echoed the action. The men shook hands. "We reward those who help us, Foxglove, and we take good care of our people. Keep up the excellent work. Good day, Agent."

"Thank you, sir. Good day to you, too." Psi-Warp stood after the formalities ended and escorted the tall, lanky F.B.I. agent from the room. Warpole fell in behind when the Highlord brought him up short.

"Hyaline will escort the two out, Warpole. I'd like you to stay a moment."

The large Cyhunter visibly started, not expecting the command. Perhaps he hadn't yet been talked to as Rikky had previously surmised. Both Psi-Warp and Foxglove spared a tiny glance at their usual escort as the blonde ESPer opened the door to exit. Outside, the brunette bombshell, Hyaline, also a Cyhunter, stood silently in waiting. "Of course, sir," Warpole answered, gathering his composure at an enviable rate as the two others slipped out of the room and into the capable cyber-hands of Hyaline. When the latch clicked shut, the chamber fell into a palpable silence. It was a long, interminable pause which held them all, the Highlord leaned back into his plush seat, fingers templed under his chin, regarding. When the others present began to fidget nervously, all except Jayde, the 'Lord spoke in his gentle tones, pitched for intimacy.

"This complex has experienced something of a security breech recently, hasn't it?" The distinguished man didn't wait for a response but supplied his own. "Yes, I believe it has. While this in itself is highly unsatisfactory, such situations occur from time to time. What I find wholly unsatisfactory is the fact that you three, Scratch, Warpole and Psi-Clone, among others, were not present in the building that fateful day." The Highlord leaned forward, searching through some papers on his immaculate desk, pausing at the pertinent information once it was found. "You, Warpole, were -and this is a direct excerpt from your personal statement- 'out for ice cream'. "

Japanese eyes, dark like coal, lifted to rest their weight a moment on the Cyhunter in question, but before 'Pole could answer, the Highlord continued. "On orders, it's claimed, to be off-premises. Is this correct?"

Warpole, still straight and tall at attention, nodded slightly. "Yessir. I was… commanded to take the weekend off."

"As were all but one Cyhunter and most our staff, it would seem," The distinguished man added. "Who ordered this action?"

"It's clearly stated in my report, sir."

"Who ordered this action?" The tone firmer this time, but no louder.

A pause in cyborg time, only a fraction. "Commander Christopher, sir."

"Old Scratch." Abandoning his notes, the Highlord rested against the back of his seat once more, focus shifting to the only full unnatural in the room.

Ian Christopher, filename: Old Scratch, picked absently at the fabric of his jeans, he often wore simple casual wear; trying very hard not to allow the hideous nature of the room push him over the edge into a panic, so oppressive it felt. Brown eyes rose to meet the gaze of natural, black ones behind the cherry wood desk, eyes younger than his own. "Yessir," his only reply.

As if musing to himself, the Asian Executive Chief of the GUARD spoke softly, slowly, a calm murmuring. "And why, one might wonder, would Commander Christopher send the majority of his troops out, for ice cream no less, over the weekend, thus leaving the GUARD headquarters staffed only with a skeleton crew, a sprinkling of vets and a handful of trainees?"

"Sir, I---"

"One would hope, desperately hope, it was for a damned good reason. Because on that weekend GUARD headquarters happened to be infiltrated and, undermanned, an extremely high priority bring-back was broken out by several other high priority bring-backs. Now, considering the rescued is very well known as the Commander's daughter, one would question such intentions, wouldn't one?"

Scratch sighed, knowing how bad it must look, and tried again. "Sir, if you'd just let me explain…."

"Oh, please do, Commander," the Highlord leaned forward, face set with rapt attention. "I'm all ears."

Scratch straightened and plunged into his story. "I knew there'd eventually be an attempt to free Yvette, R.UN.ners never know when to let things be. So, with the help of several of our precognates, and my knowledge of the RUNners Yvette alliances with, we managed to pinpoint a weekend though not a specific day. I did keep Null, Wile and Omit, our computer specialists, on staff to aid in the façade. However, they were psionically treated to not try overly hard in heading the viral attacks off. They, of course, have no recollection of the psi-tamperings. I wanted them to act as naturally as possible. The break-in was easy. The breakout was easy, though the culprits may not know that. Security has been tightened and altered since Venin and Ei-Que was under our employ. To keep our secrets, very few exist who retain knowledge of the changes, as you well know, sir. Our ESPers have been very busy keeping minds clean. Psi-Clone has even done his share with impressive results and one hundred percent accuracy."

The Highlord pulled a small frown, waving most of it away. "Fine, fine, fine. Now why Commander? I didn't authorize this. You are withholding information from your superior."

Ian shifted in his seat with an almost childishly guilty expression on his countenance. "Well, sir… the cognatives' data came in late. It was a rush job. I had everyone involved with targeting the date mindwiped. I gave orders with no reasons. I wanted no one at all, save myself, to know what I had planned, just in case. I'd even ordered Psi-Clone to adjust his own mind after he did the Pre-cogs." Rikky blinked owlishly at the older man in surprise, though he shouldn't have been shocked. Scratch went on. "It was a massive undertaking and I just… never got around to telling you, sir."

"Or asking permission," black eyes narrowed. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Because, sir, I had Yvette surgically implanted with a kind of homing device. Brand new technology and the techies don't remember. Only those of us in this room know any of this, so Ei-Que can't glean from minds the knowledge. The specialized device is synthetic flesh, so similar to Yvette's own, her body doesn't even know the difference. A precaution against detection and her own healing factor rejecting it. Microscopic but complex it utilizes nanotechnology, able to allow us pinpoint precision targeting, technical read-outs and even works as a microphone, somewhat muffled since it has to reach through her flesh. We can detect unnaturals in a certain radius around her and, given time, we can even register their personal signatures, cross-reference the spectrum to the files and know who they are plus power parameters. Given time. The device is several steps-up from the bugs Razorshred psionically fueled for us. I… had it attached to her spine near the base of her skull. To remove it would kill her and such would be readily apparent to anyone who tries."

The Highlord was silent for a time, which allowed Warpole's tiny murmur of approval at Scratch's actions to sound like a small bomb going off. Jayde hadn't moved. Rikky, who nodded once to Scratch in admiration once he'd finished his recitation, wasn't sure she'd blinked the entire time. Scratch's attention, however, was solely fixed on his boss, waiting for any kind of sign, preferably one of redemption. Very slowly, without expression, the fetlocked head swiveled to regard Rikky. Scratch wasn't sure how to take that reaction.

"And you, Mr. Aerik Winters? Were you also ordered away from the base?"

"Please, sir," a pained expression, sincere. "If you choose not to employ my filename, I would prefer you called me Rikky. Not Aerik. Forgive my outburst. To answer your question, if I was so ordered it could be that I would not remember it, considering what Commander Christopher recently revealed. But I was not on premises at the time of the breakout, if that is to what you are alluding."

The Highlord almost smiled. He didn't, but he came dangerously close. Instead, both his dark brows rose to Rikky's request. "Rikky, then. Of course, Rikky. I wouldn't want you uncomfortable. And if you were not on premises, then where were you? At Baskin Robbins with Warpole?"

Were Warpole not masked, his blush would be much in evidence.

"No sir, I was not…. Eating ice cream at the time."

"Then where were you, Rikky?"

Rikky slowly lowered his shadowgold eyes. It was so hard to think in this place--- all he knew was that he really didn't want to reveal his whereabouts.

Silence. The 'Lord shot one thick eyebrow upwards in an elegant arch. More silence. Finally, a growl slid its way through the still of the room like roller-skates across gravel. Old Scratch started losing his patience, desperately wanting out of the chamber with its perfect temperature, expensive rugs and strangling nature. "That's a superior talking to you, boy, and it don't get any more superior. Answer him," clearly Scratch had not forgotten the protocols psionically installed into Rikky's subconscious at the early stages of development, compulsions and rules to keep such a powerful and unknown telepath in check. Rikky, having no choice under the imperatives, answered quietly.

"I felt restless. I decided to go out."

"Where?" The smartly suited man asked for a third and final time. He tolerated youthful fear, the aversion to being scolded, only so long.

PsiClone inhaled deeply, squared himself in his seat and lifted his chin to meet the Highlord eye-to-eye, realizing he wouldn't be allowed to dodge the line of inquiry. "Sir, I went to one of the two dimensions we have mapped and logged as known R.UN.ner traffic areas."

"Why?"

"….I sought out Sai Canaan, sir."