Red Alert [Closed]

That sinking feeling Sean had experienced before Gabriel had visited last time had overtaken him again this morning. He’d been set on edge since then – and the coffee hadn’t helped matters; he’d been edgy enough that briefly he’d considered a sedative, before deciding against that. If this was indicative of another unpleasant visit, he wished to have his wits about him.

That instinct had been validated when he’d felt a brief surge of psychic energy; unable to verbalize what it was, as it was more a raw feeling than anything else, if question, he could only say that something was off. It had ended before he could actively investigate, but his concentration had been shot, and his paperwork pushed to the wayside. Unable to work between the growing sense of impending doom and the curiosity about what the surge could have been, he’d propped open one of his old work journals, turning back pages, turning back years, to review former notes.

His concentration most certainly was impaired, because he had read less than a dozen entries before his thoughts were interrupted again, this time by an aggressive knock and equally aggressive – and all the more familiar – thoughts. Chase was shouting mentally, telling him to get to Claude’s office. This was more than a mere disciplinary matter, as he and Claude were rarely called in tandem absent a grave problem. More concerning was the undercurrent of fear he detected in Chase’s voice.

The telepath was up like a shot, his journal stashed in a desk drawer. He grabbed his jacket and started down the hall in the direction of Claude’s office, only a minute or so behind Chase and James, as he had a later start and walked more slowly. He, too, largely ignored Nykohl, although he murmured a greeting without waiting for a reply. He shut Claude’s door behind him, after entering, and was immediately assaulted by confused thoughts; to make sense of them, he probed. James was out of sorts, his usually organized thoughts in disarray; Claude knew no more than he did, and Chase was livid. He saw it in Chase’s mind and felt it in James, the scar of a psychic attack, and he frowned sharply, all the more when he noticed the bandages. “When did it happen? Is everyone secure?"

It had been a normal day for Claude thus far. He had breakfast with Kate, headed off to work, snatched a cup of coffee from the lounge, and then went to his office to review some files and fill out paperwork. It was a shame the peace of his daily routine had to be shattered.

His brows knitted when there came an unexpected knock at his door. There weren’t any appointments, and walk-ins had to go through his niece first, which also meant using the intercom beforehand. He still didn’t have a hang of using the thing yet, but the beep at least warned him when someone was coming. However, it wasn’t the lapse in formal conduct that made his expression change, but the fact that it was Chase Kilbourne and James Campbell that burst into his office. He could tell right away that something was wrong, even before they said anything.

“Chase? James? What is it?” He asked bewildered, the answer coming in the form of James’ bandaged hands. That didn’t tell him much. He wanted to ask for more information, but resisted the urge as all would be explained once Sean arrived. Although, when his friend did arrive with questions Claude didn’t quite understand, he felt a little frustrated. Obviously whatever it was involved the safety of the school, otherwise they wouldn’t be gathering here, and not knowing what was going on was beginning to really bother him.

James’ retaliation of Sean’s probing made the Headmaster grunt. Campbell was always a difficult one, constantly trying to escape from the institute when he attended as a student, and while Claude was beginning to like the man, his act of stubbornness was not surprising. It did nothing to quell the Headmaster’s worries, though. “Okay, we’re all here, so what exactly happened?” He more demanded than asked.

Unfortunately, the attack would explain the psychic energy surge that Sean had felt earlier today, and the psychiatrist was already in crisis mode. He prepared his checklist of what needed to be done, which involved acting surreptitiously, because he would need specifics from James, and after being snapped at, he wouldn’t ask explicitly. He had to talk to Claude about the situation and the realistic options surrounding the incident, and had to answer Chase’s mental conversation, and he had to call Josh. If this was an outside attack, and he was as sure of that as Chase for similar reasons, then Josh was potentially in danger merely by being outside. That call would have to wait; his life always had to wait in light of danger.

He projected his thoughts to Chase alone, keeping his gaze on Claude at the moment to give James the sense that he wasn’t a subject of scrutiny. If he doesn’t get healed within a reasonable amount of time, there could be long-term consequences. Just as with any traumatic experience; Sean had more experience with that than he cared to admit. If he’s too upset to trust me, I have a colleague in Boston; I could have him up here tonight, certainly by tomorrow. Let me know.

His frowned deepened at the description, although it was lacking, and he supplemented from thoughts without saying so. He needed greater details, although the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened, particularly hearing Chase’s mental vow, which he wrote off for the moment as mere anger and as essentially unimportant given everything else.

As he was still standing, he nudged James and Chase, primarily for James’s benefit, to the chairs near Claude’s desk; it was best for him to sit down. “Get comfortable, and tell us everything that happened.” He glanced at Claude again, briefly, before giving his attention back to Chase and James.

Claude nodded as Sean urged the other two men towards his desk. “Yes, please sit down.” He had faced many problems in the past from nosey reporters to agencies trying to shut down the school, and he knew not to panic. Sill, an attack on an institute official was disturbing, especially since it was done by another meta-human. Even the extremists hadn’t gone so far to attack the school. It seemed that had now changed.

Seeing James struggle to get through his story made Claude regret grunting earlier. Sean, can you help him recover from this? he questioned. It was obvious that the poor man was traumatized, and Claude was well aware of the scar that could leave.

He closed his eyes after James explained further and began to think on the situation. Clarisse knowing wasn’t a problem as long as she didn’t gossip to the students about it, which he wasn’t worried about. She was trustworthy and smart enough to not do that. The rest of the staff had to be told anyway. If one person was attacked, then another could be, and they had a right to know if their safety was at stake. That wasn’t to say that the students were to be informed, however, because the last thing he wanted was to start a school wide panic. This information would have to be staff exclusive. It would also help to have more eyes on the lookout for suspicious characters.

“We have to hold a staff meeting once classes are out,” he finally stated. That, at least, was something he was sure of. He wanted to press for more information too—the more details they knew, the easier it would be to find the person who did this—but he was concerned about James’ current condition. It was hard enough for the man to give them what he had. Claude looked to Sean then. He was glad the psychiatrist was there to help with that.

Sean heard the mental question directed towards him, and he replied in kind, quietly, to Claude. I can if he lets me. Technically he could if he wasn’t given cooperation, but that would be painful, and they would likely have to sedate James in the process; in the end that was counterproductive. No, James would have to let him in, or barring that let his colleague in. To Chase, he replied, Please do. I’m happy to do anything either of you needs right now.

Sean leaned against Claude’s desk as James explained the situation. A psychic presence, a male presence, had managed to lock James away in a part of his mind where he was removed from his senses, whilst that same presence took control of his body. Using it like a puppet.

Recognition dawned on Sean, and the frown already etched into his features managed to deepen a fraction. It was such a rare ability, and since Sean knew for a fact that Gabriel Underwood had returned to the area, he found it difficult to believe that someone else had attacked the Institute. It stretched his imagination a bit too far to believe that there happened to be a second male puppeteer running around Pilot Ridge with knowledge of Hammel and a sadistic, narcissistic streak a mile long. And looking at it through the lens of a detective who had already solved the mystery, more clues fell into place, giving away Gabriel’s identity: the cockiness and lack of imagination that would allow him to divine James’s identity and yet not realize the potential side effects of his enhanced perception. The quest for information, and the sadism involved in threatening a nine-year-old child and making a man smash his family portrait, and of course, tear up his hands in the process. Sean didn’t believe in evil, but he believed in sociopaths, and Gabriel Underwood fit the bill.

The “I told you all” bug itched in the back of his mind, but he shooed it away. Claude was the only one who had been in a position of authority when Gabriel had been a student, and more to the point, saying “you should have listened to me” would accomplish nothing at present, apart from potentially starting an argument and making everyone else feel worse.

Reaching up to rub his eyes, he managed to keep his voice steady, although an undertone of disgust seeped through. “We’re going to need to do more than hold a staff meeting; I need to scan everybody at the school.” A staff meeting was the bare minimum. Restless, he straightened and moved from Claude’s desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re dealing with Underwood; I’m sure of it, and so, as of right now, the only four people I can clear officially are the four of us, and I need to track down Clarisse to clear her as well, because she has too much information.” There went his calm. “We need to change file pass codes now, in case there’s a physical hack, and above all, we need to keep from making the children nervous.” This, this was why he thought their duck and cover drills were so asinine; how did hiding in a dark room slumped down away from the windows assist with this growing disaster?

“Oh, and Chase? After you help James get comfortable in the med room to lie down, we need to talk.” He didn’t smile, because he’d heard everything; understandable as a desire for revenge was, it was also insanely stupid, but he could use a cover story. “Just in case someone doesn’t pass clearance, you’re help would be invaluable, and I’m not worried about your ability to fend off a mental attack.”

Claude knew that there was a lot more to be done than hold a staff meeting, but they had to start somewhere, and that seemed as good of a place as any. He nodded when Sean spoke up, stiffening when Gabriel Underwood was mentioned. Claude wasn’t an expert of psychic powers like Sean was, and implications had yet to form in his mind, but it was obvious when he thought about it. With that name, things clicked in place, and if Sean was right--which Claude didn’t doubt--then they were in big trouble.

Words didn’t need to be exchanged for Claude to feel the sting of his mistake. As the head of recruiting, he had been painfully aware of Gabriel’s dangerous ability when he came to the institute, and like many of his colleagues he foolishly gave the teen trust he didn’t deserve. But Sean knew, and he had tried to warn them. No one listened. God, why didn’t he listen? He slumped in his chair and rubbed his temples in frustration and shame as his own composure deteriorated. There was nothing he could do about fixing the mistakes of the past, other than getting to work on fixing the damage that had been caused in the present.

“Of course, anything that’ll help,” he said as he pulled his hands away from his face, granting permission for Sean's first request. As for the rest, he hastily pulled a sheet of paper and pen out of a drawer and began to jot down a list of things they needed to do. He glanced briefly at Chase as he wrote. Claude was sympathetic--if his own spouse were just attacked, he would be livid too. “We will, Chase,“ he assured the man. There was something clearly wrong with Underwood, and there was no way that they were going to let him get away with this.

He was just adding "change pass codes" to the list when James announced his realization, and Claude's grip tightened so suddenly and fiercely that his pen cracked under the pressure. He dropped the damaged writing utensil and stood, ready to stop planning and start taking action. “Then there’s no time to lose.” The shakiness of his voice surprised him, even though it was to be expected. After all, one of the most sadistic minds to pass through Hammel had just breeched the institute’s security under his own watch. No, maybe things weren’t quite that bad yet.

“He couldn’t have gotten into any unopened, password protected files could he?” Claude asked, his voice slowly steadying as he reigned in his panic. “And can we get someone to check what was most recently accessed, right?”

“You were logged onto your computer,” Sean repeated emotionlessly. Of course he was. James was dedicated to his job, and he’d been in his office, so there was no reason for him not to be logged onto his computer. James also wasn’t Sean, who preferred to write his notes by hand because the transition to computers had never fully taken root. Then there was a greater security problem than that which he’d assumed a moment ago, and changing those passwords was, at the same time, all the more important to prevent further information leaks, and also in some ways a moot exercise.

He would still prefer that James lay down, lest he have a panic attack or lose consciousness from strain, both of which were strong possibilities given his experience and his anxiety. The entire situation was one large, dangerous mess. Addressing James, he said, “When we finish in here, you and Chase should go check the files for access and then change your passwords. To be safe, have Chase come up with the passwords and have him tell them to you. Afterward, you should lie down; that’s a medical opinion.”

The telepath remained thoughtful; he had incredible restrain under pressure, even if he was slowly losing his patience with the stubbornness of the two younger men. Even if he was the only person here who understood the full implications of what could happen. “We can get tech support to give everything a sweep to, after I clear them. I’ll need to clear security first, because they have to do a perimeter sweep. Meeting at 3:30p.m., when classes are over so the students aren’t disrupted. I’ll have everyone cleared by then.” Anyone not cleared would also be dealt with, although it was possible that Gabriel had done this only for the information and to send a warning; if that was so, he was long gone but better safe than sorry. That had been the telepath’s motto since he had first been a student, certainly since becoming faculty. “Someone should call the Board after the meeting and explain the situation.” That someone would probably be him or Claude; he sighed mentally at the thought. What a long, terrible day this had become.

If Robert was still alive and still here, Sean could split the job with him and make the process go faster. Then he would only have to let Chase out of his sight for half as long, which made him less likely to do something foolish, disastrous, or worse in the intervening period. But he would be with James in the intervening time, and then hopefully he could get him alone. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” The telepath looked over at Claude, feeling it necessary to give him fair warning. “I’ll probably have a migraine by the meeting; if I do, just…keep the lights off.” He’d have to take it easy on the pills until the situation was under control.