Issue 1 Downtime

Callie was currently being held in one of the interrogation rooms at the university. Until the Brotherhood mess was sorted out and her fate could be decided, she was going to be spending all her time in one of these cells.

And there was a good chance she was going back to Muir Island too.

Callie sighed, leaning back in her chair.

Ryan walked in, grim faced, and leaned against the wall. He held a manilla folder in his hand, but didn't open it yet as he looked down at her. "Start talking."

"You know, I turned myself in and I've volunteered to cooperate," Callie says, "You don't have to bad cop me."

"No, my partner's the bad cop. I'm the good cop. So start talking. Start at the beginning, and don't leave anything out."

"Well, my parents met in Morocco," Callie says, "My mother was a the daughter of the owner of import/export group and my father was a wealthy businessman from the States...."

"Which I suppose explains the funding for the bomb," Ryan reasoned.

"What bomb?"

"The bomb. The very high-yield bomb that's been sold to the 'Maldon chapter of the Brotherhood," Ryan said, tossing down the (heavily redacted) blueprint from his manilla folder onto the table.

"So, do you still feel like being a wiseass about this?"

Callie picks up the file, studying it for a bit, "...Yeah, I don't know anything about this."

"I mean first of all, it's idiotic. These are kids," Callie says, "A bunch of sociopaths, sure, but they're not exactly criminal masterminds."

"Second off, why in the nine hells would I need to buy explosives?" Callie asks.

"That's a good question. If you didn't, I want to know who did." He slapped his SHIELD identification down onto the table, "Because trust me, I am the friendly alternative. You don't want this kicked upstairs, either for you or for any of your kids that might be getting suckered in this."

"I am telling you, I have no idea," Callie says, "You have to believe me."

"None of these kids would know the first thing about where to get explosives. Even Ariel, the kid who was in charge, is just a teen runaway with mommy issues. His name is Edward Cranston. He's 17 and grew up in Queens."

"They have a lot to answer for," Callie says, "They tried to kill that girl, Riot, for some reason. They're not capable of this. Logistically, I mean."

A buzzer sounded from behind the two-way glass.

Ryan glanced back, then looked at Callie. "This isn't finished," he said, picking up the paper and ID again and walking out of the interrogation room.

"What've you got?" he asked in a (unnecessarily) low voice.

Nina was sitting on a table, staring at Callie, "...We should take a look inside her head."

Looking towards Ryan, Nina seems to realize that this is a pretty vague statement, "She has micro-lesions in her medial temporal lobe. I've seen the pattern before. Usually in people who have been under telepathic influence for long periods of time."

Ryan nodded. "Headmistress?" he suggested.

"We should tell her, but if she was under the influence that long, I don't know what we'll get out of her," Nina says, "Smart though. Find one of the rich kids. Give 'em the psychic whammy. Then you've got funding."

Ryan nodded. "You know, I've asked her a question twice that she seems to be avoiding," he said, looking back through the two-way mirror.

"Really?" Nina says, "Interesting..."

"It is," Ryan said. "Let's see how deep this goes. See what you can get on any of the names she gives, send what you get to my phone."

He headed back into the room. "All right. You were just about to tell me how all this started."

A wild text arrives on Ryan's phone!

Edward Cranston - died two years ago, confirming death certificate now

"I met these kids a little after I got into town," Callie says, "They were basically homeless. I felt bad for them. I convinced them that I was part of their cause and got them a place to stay. I thought that I could steer them in the right direction, y'know?"

"How'd you meet them," Ryan asked. Or rather demanded.

Callie rolls her eyes, "I don't know. I met them at the park, I think."

"What does it matter?" Callie asks, rubbing her temples.

"It matters because your little would-be terrorists got ahold of a weapon of mass destruction. It matters because I say it matters, and I'm the one that can make you disappear without a goddamn trace!" Ryan shot at her, slamming his fist onto the table. Ow. "Now how did you meet them! Take them one at a goddamn time if you have to!"

"Stop yelling!" Callie snaps, resting her head in her hands. It felt like a goddamn banshee was loose in her head, "I can't think straight."

The air around Callie was beginning to distort a little bit. Like heat was coming off of her.

"Oh no..." Callie says. panicking, "Get out of here! Get out right now!"

"Oh the hell you say," Ryan growled, his power flaring. His wings seemed to burst out of his back, and green energy pulsed around him as he dove for her. "You're not going nova on my watch," he said through gritted teeth as he tried to drain her power before it could really develop any further.

It was a close thing, a full on uncontrolled explosion from Callie was quite a lot of power, but somehow Ryan managed to drain it all off.

When it was finally gone, Callie went limp.

Ryan tried to catch her, checking to make sure that yes, she still had a pulse, ready to feed energy back to her in case he'd taken too much. "Report this," he called into the room at large. "I want 24 hour physical presence with her. Always someone who can disable her in case another forced suicide happens. There is never to be a moment when she's got more than five feet between her and at least one other person until we can be absolutely sure that there's nothing more to worry about."

As personnel scrambled around Ryan to take care of it, Nina slipped in and stood beside him.

"That was fun," Nina said, "Thanks for not letting her explode. That would've been inconvenient."

"No problem," he panted. "'Living' is one of the higher entries on my to-do list."

As the personnel carried Callie away, Nina holds up her tablet.

"Check this out. Edward Cranston, 15. Died when he and his parents all slit their own throats," Nina says. On the tablet there's a picture of the death certificate and the body.

Ryan looked at the pictures and grimaced. "Are there any other pictures? Anything from his obituary, maybe? Something we can show for identification? I can't decide if someone took over the identity or if this kid faked his own death somehow."

"I think so, hold on," Nina says, flipping through the database, "Here we go."

The obituary picture was a group photo of the entire family. Edward was standing in front of his parents in a soccer uniform, holding a ball. Both his parents looked extremely proud of him. Altogether, a nice picture of a happy family.

"Good. You want to see if you can get anything coherent out of your sister, see if that's the Ariel she knew?"

"Please don't call her that," Nina says, groaning, "Could you go talk to her about it? I really don't want to see her again."

Ryan looked her over carefully. "Funny, I thought ostriches had feathers."

"Haha," Nina says, "Come on. She's such a little snot."

"I'll make it worth your while?"

"...I'm listening..."

"Well, you could come back to my place for dinner," Nina says, grinning a little, "And I could 'thank you' for all your help."

"So I get to go talk to your sister and get my girlfriend pissed off at me?"