Writing Challenge: 100 Stories. 1 Month.

12. Crossroad

"Papi, where are they taking her?" Mateo cried as his father held him back, keeping him from running to the woman being shoved unceremoniously into a car by men in green. "Mami!"

Jose Ortiz shook head and his youngest son. "Three people died because of her. They're putting her where she cannot hurt anyone else."

Beside him, his oldest son, Diego, kicked the dirt walk in front of their house and nodded.

Paulo stood in the doorway, watching.

"Mateo, you're too old for this. Go sleep in your own bed." But the teenager moved over anyway, letting his little brother crawl in beside him. The eight-year-old curled up into a little ball, obviously not planning on sleeping anytime soon. "You have school tomorrow, and I have work."

"Papi turned her in."

"...What are you talking about?"

"Papi is the one who called the police. He's the one who had Mami taken away. He's the one who told them she stopped that car to save me." The little boy's eyes were wide and scared. He tugged on his brother's sleeve. Paulo was Paulo; he always knew what to do.

The teenager ran his hand over his little brother's hair, smoothing out his messy curls. "How do you know this?"

"I heard him talking to Tia Rosa. He said it was the right thing. But it wasn't! It was an accident!"

"You're sure?"

"Yes! He's talking to her on the phone, right now."

Paulo got up, then turned and tucked his little brother into his bed. "I'm going to go talk to him then, okay? You stay right here and go to sleep. I'll find out what happened to Mami, I promise." Again, he smooth downed his brother's hair, before getting dressed and heading down the hall.

An hour later, he returned to find his brother fast asleep, drooling on his pillow. He changed back into his pajamas and went to sleep in Mateo's empty bed.

*****

After Mateo left for school, the phone rang.

"Paulo," Diego said, leaning into the room and stopping his brother, who was tying his shoes. "It's Papi.... Something went wrong with the car. They don't know what happened, but he went off the road, into a tree...."

"And Papi?"

"He's dead. God, he's dead."

Gabriel liked the colour of the sunset on the sea, and the fresh bracing air that stuck tiny salt crystals to his skin, tickling his stubble and washing away the impurities of the days previous. He liked the gentle warmth of Solo's slumber on his chest, the fresh taste of the tropical cocktails and the slow bathing of satisfaction that radiated from head to toe.

His ultimate plan had, in fact, worked.

Those who sought to harm him believed he was dead, those who would have stopped his last final magnum opus were no longer to trouble him, and when they realised his elaborate plan it would be all too late. Of course, there had been prices to pay, and deceiving his allies was a painful necessity. He felt something akin to grief at losing the twins, Jake, and Jesse. He felt concern for Paulo, for Max and for Oliver, and even a slight, irritating pang of guilt for the utter lie he had inflicted on all of them.

He thought back to that night, when he knew that his number was up, and how he had retreated wordlessly through the house to the sub-basement, leaving his instructions to the man he had met so many years ago in Afghanistan. Gabriel had convinced the shifter that to die with honour was to help his cause, and the man had agreed - cancer had wracked his body and instead of a slow death, he requested only that those who had mocked him for being meta human could be punished. The game had been set and Gabriel had puppeted the dying man's body, shifting into a clone of himself, then walking back out, as though nothing had happened. The dialogue with Chase, the sudden squeeze as lungs that felt like his but were not ceased to function... then the release from that deteriorating body back to his own, hidden form.

He hadn't stuck round to really see what the twins would do. But he knew that for it to be convincing... convincing to everyone, then he would have to be gone and all his dearest friends would have to believe this. They'd have to feel the stab of sorrow for the loss of their leader, the dogs would have to mourn (something he felt especially awful for) and he would have to be gone. Forever.

The man swilled the cocktail in his hand, then carried on staring out to sea.

The car journey to the airport had been difficult. His recently opened account, and forged passports were the only thing he owned now, aside from Solo, who had silently stowed away with him as they'd driven -via taxi- away from the people Gabriel had trusted for many, many years. He'd taken a quiet first class seat under his new name; Andrew Farraday, and gone, without trace, out of the country, out of the continent and out to a new venture.

Gabriel discarded the cocktail and rose from his seat, walking back across the beach to the jeep parked up, swinging into the driver side and waiting for Solo to leap in next to him.

On they drove, through the island, stopping to greet those who were around.

"Evening Mr. Underwood." They called, smiling brightly. "How's the recruitment going?"

"Slowly." He replied silkily as he let the jeep rumble to a halt. "I'm very fussy about teachers, they're what guides the future, after all."

Eventually the drive ended, and the man stepped out, quietly polishing the sign on the gate of the grounds. Solo cantered off through the ground, happy to see his master more content than he had ever been. Satisfied that the exterior of the grounds was up to scratch, Gabriel walked inside the main building, up the many flights of stairs to the top floor office. Papers littered the desk, many with photos paper-clipped to them. Some were stamped red, others green, and more importantly, the forms he had worked so hard to be passed through and approved.

Dear Mr. Underwood

The government have discussed your ideas and find them to be refreshing.

Owing to your influence and life experience, we are happy to support your idea to open a private Meta Human school in Christchurch.

Included are the forms required by law to be filled in, and our continued support in keeping our young meta humans controlled and valuable citizens.

Mariah Surgie
Secretary to the Prime Minister

Underwood Academy had been officially bought several weeks later. The building was beautiful, a majestic area over seeing the beach and the wilderness around the South Island of New Zealand. Work had been done to make the building as beautiful and archaic as possible - with modern interiors, beautiful dormitories and comfortable teaching rooms with top technology.

Gabriel wished, just for a second, that Jesse could see this. That Jake could smirk an approval in the doorway. That Lala and Reese could help him silently sort through old and new accomplices to find the right people to teach Meta kids exactly how to be fantastic members of the New MSAD. An MSAD of intelligent, powerful people.

The Academy would be free, yes. But it would be selective. And Gabriel was certain that he could teach every pathetic human sympathizing meta that Underwood Academy was going to pave the way for a new and fantastic future. A future where those with powers were those with the strongest say.

Gabriel may have been considered "dead", yes, but he was far from it. And, with a flourish of a pen, he quietly sent two very special letters out into the world - untracable, but something of a rallying cry to those he had left behind...

MSAD will never be dead as long as I am alive.

Do not try to find me, for I will find you again one day.

Watch for the new future.