The junior technician catches her mentor who stumbles upon an unknown entity. "Thanks," Alexa says, scratching her itchy forehead, now a dense, angry green. Eliza scans her affected mentor when she lets go of her shoulders, "You need to rest." The chief technician shakes her head, glancing at the team of physicians, plus a very old telepath, examine a pallid Jason.
The owner of Pearl Manor reduces her scream to a slight jerk, when Amelia appears behind her, tapping her shoulder. "Any problem?" she asks, taking a glimpse of her nauseated friend. Eliza nods, whispering, "I'm trying to make her rest."
"No," the sprinter says, seeing her friend retch. The chief technician cringes when her redheaded friend reappears with a small, disposable bag, almost oblivioned of her incoming puke. She grabs the black bag, turning to view the outsider's bed, through the translucent drapes.
"Once I find out about Fred, you'll be the first to know," Eliza chimes in. Alexa opens the expandable barf bag, bringing its opening to her greyish lips. She glances at her protegee, forehead crinkled. "She's trying to say I know that," Amelia interprets, studying her friend's wan visage.
The herculean relaxes her forehead, looking up and down to say yes; her buccal cavity ready to eject the rising barf. The novice shapeshifter turns around, securing the long drapes around the diver's bed. "Get it all out," Amelia says, holding her infirm friend who disgorges. "Even your anger against Fred. He's not worth it." Eliza flashes a grin when she hears that.
She sags her head, noticing the entity her mentor tripped on. A flustered Nathan steps out of the germ-free zone, gaze falling on the bent shapeshifter, "Eliza?"
"Yeah," she says, grabbing the black enigma from the floor. Her eyes fixate over the device, stroking its large, slightly cracked screen. "This is a PDA*," the junior technician mutters, eyes goggled as she shows it to the elementalist. "But better." Nathan creases his forehead, realizing something. That's the phone Alexa tried to tap. He glances at his wife, pointing to the black device.
Amelia nods, recollecting the incident as she takes the distended bag from her friend. The phone's here. She presses a button on its clean, outer rim, causing the barf bag to seal itself. The sprinter reappears, a rose scent arising from her trail. 'Let's go, Alex,' she says, holding her staggering friend. The herculean glances at her protegee as she heads to the other side of the room, gesturing her to follow.
Eliza replies with a curt nod, clasping on to the assumed handheld PC as she marches to the vacant bed. 'Here,' Alexa says, eyeing the Samsung smartphone as she hands out a black device. "It's called a smartphone," she says, clearing her throat as she shifts in her recumbent position. The junior technician studies the small flash drive.
"That will unlock the phone," Alexa says, clearing her throat. She crinkles her forehead, "I remember sending the tapped call to the phone, but I don't know what they spoke about." Eliza turns to see the young diver. "We'll take care of this," Amelia says, draping a thick blanket over her friend. "Now rest." The owner nods, "I'll call when we find out about Fred."
Alexa nods, her droopy eyes fixated on the locket placed around her protegee's neck. At least one positive came out of Tom's arrival. She grins at the exceptionally hale shapeshifter as she drifts off.
"Alex discovered cell activity in the manor," Mark apprises, placing a mask over Jason's face. "That's how we found out about Fred." The transmuted telepath sighs, his purple eyes riveted on the novice vanisher's forehead.
The chief physician injects a crimson fluid into his patient's right forearm, "This will prevent him from going into shock. So take the time to find a proper exit." He lifts his head to see his transmuted brother, "I'm not allowing another comatose patient in."
The shapeshifter smiles, a purple line emanating from the center of his right palm. The two physicians step back as the modern telepath wraps the now wide ribbon around the diver's forehead. "Now, he won't have any swirls or blotches," he says, eyes on the young man's green fingernails.
Anthony glances at the monitors, and then at his daughter who helps his friend lie in bed. "What will they do to Fred?" He asks, turning to the shapeshifter. "They'll interrogate him," the old man replies. "We still have to find the mastermind."
"I can't believe the Xenos gang's behind the January attacks." Mark says, recollecting the multiple civilian casualties. He rests his hands on the headboard, peering down at the patient's headband, now turning pink. "We saw you both in Fred's lair," he says, lifting his head. "What did he show you?"
Anthony grumbles, the peculiar event flashing across his mind, "He didn't state the obvious, as usual." He crosses his arms, "We went through three events, each with the same concluding message." He shakes his head, "Everyone kept blabbering 'The legend is true.'"
"What were those events?" His subordinate asks, right brow raised. "He locked some of his memories," the old man blurts out, pointing to the band. The two physicians squint their eyes to notice a few green-beaded strings. "That's what he did?" Mark says, glancing at the stable monitors. The shapeshifter nods, "He also used his memories to restore hers."
The three men glance at the novice shapeshifter who strides to the alcove with the Brookes. Mark widens his eyes in realization. He flits his gaze to his senior, "What were the three events?" The baffled Banks brothers turn to face him.
"It will take seven minutes for the phone to unlock," Eliza says, glancing at the newfound device, her mentor's invention connected to its sole port. The trio take a seat on the long couch, the youngest placing the black gizmo on the table.
Nathan glances at the owner, "We found something before coming here." His wife nods, glancing at the surveillance cameras affixed at every top corner of the room. "Are we being watched by the Emerald House?" Eliza asks, recollecting her first conversation with her uncle. She glances at the agape residents. "You knew?" Amelia says, hushing her astonishment to a whisper.
The owner nods, "Uncle told me." She smiles, gazing at the seated quadrigenarian. "Now the Emerald House won't suspect us as masterminds of the attacks."The all-round elementalist rubs his creased forehead, "Wow. I didn't even know we were suspects in a top secret investigation."
"The Guardian and the Key!" a voice exclaims, making the trio cower in their places. They head to the source of the sound. "It's true," Mark says, rubbing his clammy forehead.
"No!" Tom says, the purple in his eyes beginning to fade. "What did you do?" Anthony says, rushing to the beeping monitors. "I finally brought Jason to an exit," he glares at the phytokineticist. "When he had his eureka moment." Mark riles up, "What-"
"Guys," Eliza calls, reaching the scene. Three glowering heads turn to her. "Calm down." She glances at the diver, "We can still find a way." She turns to her uncle, who tries to soften his incessive gaze on the diver. "How about we try the Limerwick method?" She says, recollecting her old professor's lecture.
Tom flits his gaze to the band, the less demanding technique flashing before him, "Yeah."
"But won't you still need a focussed telepath for this?" Anthony intervenes. Tom shakes his head, examing the diver, "Not when we have this." He extends his right hand, tapping the magenta band.
The residents gather around the foot of the patient's bed, glancing at the pellucid screen that emanates from the band. The relieved smile from Eliza's face vanishes, when she sees the live visual of the outsider's dream.
...
Jason Smith falls down a dark abyss, bafflement ousting his apprehension as he peers at its unfathomable bottom. Is this a rabbit hole? He muses, the world-famous fantasy classic flashing through his mind, as the surrounding gush of wind becomes a comforting warmth. The diver narrows his view, beginning to notice subtle movements in his peculiar surroundings.
"Whoa," He says, peering at the benign pink dots that beset him. He waves his arms through the glowing specks, his astounded gasps reverberating across the dark expanse. "Hello, Jason?" an old voice echoes, making him look up, at the distant square hole he fell from. "Who is this?" The diver yells, unable to recognize the gruffly voice.
"Jason?" A familiar voice calls, making him widen his eyes, "Dr. Banks?" His bemused eyes trace the gazillion pink dots which gather below him, forming a large cushion. "This is all a dream," the renowned physician's voice chimes. "You'll wake up soon."
Darkness surrounds him when the emanating glow dampens. "Why not now?" his gloomy voice echoes.
A saucer-eyed Jason breathes heavily, when he finds himself seated in the rear end of an idle school bus. He looks through the window, ears tuning to the lively chit-chats of the neighboring elementary school kids, and recognizes the lush array of mulberry trees along the pathway before him.
"This is my stop." He gets up from his seat, old memories reeling in as he makes way through the narrow passageway. The diver reaches the open door, recoiling when he sees his younger self board the bus. "Remember one thing," a velvety voice calls, making the eight-year-old Jason turn back. "Don't go anywhere alone," The diver answers, along with his younger self.
"And don't take anything offered by a stranger," His grandma says, adjusting her vermilion coat as she steps away from the bus. The blue-eyed Jason grins, waving to her as he takes his seat in the front row. "I'll be waiting for you here," Grandma Clarke says, casting a balmy grin as the bus begins to move.
The diver clings on to the black hand-grip, brows knitted as he sees the boy seated next to his younger self. "I've seen him somewhere." He crinkles his forehead, trying to recognize the blonde, who grabs on to his plush purple glowworm.
Jace glares at his neighbors who stick their tongues out, mocking his friend's toy. "Don't mind them, Max," he says, pulling out a box from his brown backpack. The blue-eyed blonde squeaks when he sees his friend take out an orange glowworm. "You got Spotty," he exclaims, eyes on the spotted soft toy. "Glowy's best friend."
"Ew," a boy, two seats behind, says, clutching on to his Optimus Prime action figure. "The oddball infected our innocent star with his trashy glowworm." Jace exhales sharply, gritting his teeth, when they ridicule his friend. "It's okay," Max says, petting his Glowy. He glances at his only friend, "They're just jealous that we have better toys."
The two eight-year-olds giggle, their six-legged friends cuddled together in the space between them.
"Who is he?" Jason says, rubbing his forehead. He clutches on to the next grip, taking a step forward. His gaze falls on the gleaming name tag attached to Max's black backpack. "Maximillian," he cranes his neck to read the rest of his scrawled name. "Feignhorn?" He lifts his head to see Max glancing at him, smiling.
Jason turns back to see the true recipient, but flinches when the students around him dissolve into pink specks. He turns back, noticing the scene dissipate into darkness as the rugged movement under his feet abate to a halt.
"What is happening?" The anxious diver says as the swarm of pink dots revolve around him. He steps back when the floating swarm's hue switches to purple. "Dr.Ban-" A heavy fist of darkness strikes him again.
Jason jolts awake, squinting his eyes when a pang of sunlight obstructs his vision. He slowly opens his eyes, head raised to see the clear blue sky. Where am I? The bewildered diver sits up, gaze on the cracked asphalt before him.
He lifts his head, brows arched to see a huge pile of debris before him. "The Hathaway Bridge," he says, glancing at the erect remains of the tied arch bridge above. He rubs his face when trepidation builds up. "I'm dreaming."
"Negative," a firefighter answers, into his walkie-talkie. He, along with his team step away from the mountainous rubble. "No signs of life here," he says, sighing. Jason steps forward, eyes on the debris when he hears a faint voice. "There's someone," he yells, rushing to the scene as the firefighters depart in their truck.
A panting Jason peers into the narrow opening, when he reaches the pile of debris, voice cracking when he sees the stranded kid.
The boy falters as he sobs, a rod impaled to his abdomen. "Don't pass out," Jason says, blinking back his tears as he examines the protruding fragments. "I might end up causing the pile to collapse on itself, if I try to remove them," he mutters, his glistening green eyes scanning the premise. "There must be something here."
He cowers when he hears approaching footsteps. He turns back to see a shabby brunette, in her late-twenties, climb over the yellow CAUTION tapes. "She's a firefighter,' The diver mutters, eyeing the officer's orange suit as he reaches the site, her name tag glinting under the harsh sunlight. "There's a boy trapped in here," Jason apprises as she inspects the debris. "Please-"
"There's a boy in there," Sam says, peering through the narrow opening at the semi-conscious boy. The diver nods, following the firefighter who recedes, scanning the debris around her.
Jason furrows his brows as he glances at the brunette's eyes - a lime green hue. Those are the eyes I saw that day...the one who saved me. He muses as Sam turns to the rubble. 'Don't do it,' she whispers, biting her lip as she check her brown wearable. 'I should go home.'
"What?" The driver says, outraged. He steps forward, "You can't-" He turns around when he hears a sob from under the rubble. "H-h-h-e-e-lp!" The boy wheezes, making Sam straighten. She marches to the rubble. Jason flinches when she speaks, in a man's voice. "Don't panic. I'm here to get you out safely."
"Who are you?" The diver gawks, his heart beat accelerating as he stumbles back. He rubs his eyes in disbelief, "What!" He glancing at the middle-aged redhead who takes the brunette's place, the lime green eyes the only resemblance. "It finally worked," the shapeshifter says, the orange suit tempering to his corpulent build. He closes his eyes, "I can do this."
Jason's head implodes when the redhead enters the pile, without removing anything. "HOW DO I NOT REMEMBER THIS?" he screams, rushing to the opening. "It's going to be okay," the shapeshifter says, glancing at the pale boy. The diver collapses on the scattered debris when the redhead permeates through the rubble, carrying a large bus seat over his shoulders.
Jason leans forward when the enigma gently places the seat down. "He's okay," he says, glancing at the semi-conscious boy who's stuck to the seat. He lifts his head to the shapeshifter who retrives his cell phone, "Who are they?"
"Hello," the herculean speaks. "There's a kid here, near the Hathaway Bridge debris. He needs immediate medical attention." He nods, scanning the area. "A rod's been impaled in his abdomen." He examines the boy, retrieving a small device from his pocket. "He's lost a lot of blood."
A speechless Jason steps back when the device emits a green blanket. He gazes at the shapeshifter who wraps this around the boy. "Please come," the shapeshifter hangs up, glancing at the boy. "Help will arrive soon."
"Is he Tom?" Jason asks, recollecting the hawk that begun it all. The redhead scratches his head when his gaze falls on his wearable, "No." He scans the area, "Why am I always low on energy?"
The diver stares at the shapeshifter who transmutes to their original form. "What!" he says, taking a step to see the young girl who scowls.
"What do I do now?" she says, clutching on to a gilded locket as she glances at the clear, blue sky. "Elizabeth?" Jason asks, his voice trembling as the sketch appears before him. Brown hair, ebony eyes, pointed nose. He muses, glancing at those features that together form a dismal visage.
"No!" He yells when the scene begins to dissolve into darkness. The diver rubs his aching forehead, "What is happening?" He pauses, taking a deep breath. It's just a dream.
"Jason?"
The diver opens his eyes, "Dr. Banks?" He scans the dark expanse around him. "Please read out the inscription on the paper." Before Jason could ask, a white parchment appears, right before his face. His forehead crinkles when he tries to pronounce the word. "Ele-elef-"
"Stop," a female voice chimes in. "Tom, come on. Use the English translation."
Jason doesn't flinch this time as the greek inscription on the levitating parchment changes to an english one. This was the least surprising. He says, rubbing his face as this mysterious journey flashes in his mind. He squints at the handwritten inscription. "Release."