It’s the evening and I got a message from Mercy out of everyone I thought today. A brief message really. Genji was hurt, Hanzo refuses to answer his coms and the Undersiders was beaten up by Ana. Pharah is here and told him that “Flame King” wants a talk.

  What the hell does that even mean?

  Jinho changed his persona as the flame king and has been disrupting ABB human trafficking and the message comes in while I’m still figuring out where to put Schneider’s shoes. I tried contacting through my phone but no slice, the fucker didn't want to answer my call for some reason. What the fuck is this edge lord doing over at ABB territory?

  For now, I let that in the back of my mind and concentrate on what's at hand right now.

  Settling Schneider here. Her shoes don't fit on the shoe rack.

  They’re too small for the rack by the door from the entrance of my room, keep slipping through the gaps, and I make a mental note to remind myself to fabricate something lower, something kid-sized. The Command Centre isn’t build for kids, none of the panels or the holopads are kid friendly.

  Then the report scrolls across my HUD.

  Schneider is sitting cross-legged on the floor, quietly lining up a set of Terran ration bars by color that came with room service in the Commander room, not like I ever ate those before, They don't seem that appetizing compared to cooked food. She glances up at me, blue eyes tracking my face with that unsettling perceptiveness kids have when they don’t talk much.

  I force my shoulders to relax ands smile, it’s been awhile since I had a kid after all not personally. Coaching children is probably a little different than having a kid yourself. My former life? Even if I was married we didn't have kids. Just trying to wrangle other people’s kids was enough and we did ended up with a couple of strays but I never raised anyone this young before.

  Back to the message regarding the Undersiders.

  Frankly?

  I almost forgotten about them since those guys we’re supposed to debut around the same time but I haven’t heard anything from them at all, Coil getting suppressed by Monica and being monitored heavily means he wouldn’t be able to use them, Since Monica went to New York with Lena Oxley, things have been relatively peaceful,

  But maybe because without Monica’s direct interference it gave Coil some breathing room again.

  My thoughts spool out fast, orderly, the way they always do when something goes wrong. Grue. Regent. Bitch. Tattletale. Kids playing at being criminals in a city that doesn’t leave them much choices. I’ve seen the pattern from my old world in war torn countries, read about it in fiction, it might not seem reliable, but fiction often imitates reality well enough to make it believable since it mirrors real world issues.. When systems fail, children fill the gaps with bad decisions and worse loyalties.

  For a group that came together like the Undersiders? Under false promises, coercion and simply the lack of choice? What were they supposed to do?

  Ana hurting them wasn’t malicious. That much I know without being told. Ana doesn’t lash out to a bunch of kids unless they deserve it, Probably took her way with it the only way she knew how, I can only guess if its effective or not. If they’re injured, it means they pushed until she had no other option or perhaps there is a turning point for them, I wouldn’t judge her due to her experience, and I would probably do the same in her shoes. Sometimes, kids just need a reality check on the things they do, from right to wrong especially in a world so devoid of hope like this where every environment around them seem to inch them closer to oblivion.

  That bothers me more than the injuries themselves Because it means Brockton Bay and it’s people aren’t aware of it yet, that the Heroes I brought it probably guess there’s something fundamentally wrong with this world the more they stayed.

  Got a feeling I’ll have to tell them the truth someday either way.

  Not a conversation I would look forward to in the future. Future me will have a lot of bad moments, Hopefully? Current me can mitigate that issue as much as I can. We haven’t reach the endgame, there’s still time. The clock is still ticking.

  As long as the bogeywoman with a Fedora didn’t shoot me in the head from behind me yet, I still have time. Is Cauldron aware? They probably are but with their sort of draconic intelligence? It will take awhile for them to piece all the information together.

  I glance back at Schneider. She’s still lining things up, ahh I envy the little girl, not a care in the world. The same fragile space between victim and survivor. One wrong influence and she could’ve been one of them too like the Undersiders,running with a gang, stealing for food, thinking violence is the only language adults understand.

  I just sighed and tighten my grip as if that could be a reality if I didn't find her on chance. If I didn’t decided to patrol the shanty houses 2 weeks ago, if I haven’t decided to overhaul my plan and went all out.

  This is why I built the apartments. The canteens. The schools. This is why I dragged the homeless out of the mud and dared the city to hate me for it. Because the alternative is this, kids like her suffering, all the kids at the orphanage? Will probably end up worse or dead. I’m still not sure if what I did was the right thing to do.

  Ana did what she thought was right.

  The Undersiders did what they thought they had to do to ensure their survival, Brian need the money to get custody of Aisha, Lisa hold at gunpoint and forced to work under a megalomaniac pseudo bond villain? Alec still coming to terms and trying to stay away from the derange Vasily family, Gotta remind myself there’s a cult of rapist haremlord mind controlling leacher out there that needs to be taken out in the future, and then there’s Rachael…yeah I’m not gonna comment on that.

  And I’m the idiot standing in the middle thinking I can fix a city by force of will and Terran engineering, thats just sheer hubris of me to think that even if I have a cheat, I would ensure everyone will be alive come next Endbringer attack. Which is probably in a month or so and it would be Behemoth if nothing changes.

  I exhale slowly, grounding myself.

  Not yet.

  What to do with The Undersiders? They aren’t villains. Not the usual unredeemable kind no. Not much I can do for them since they are a symptom off a system that failed long before I ever dropped a Command Centre into a train yard, I wonder if I can just chuck them to Ana and let her discipline them for me, delegate stuff for me. Junior Overwatch members? Heh-that’s cute.

  I kneel down beside Schneider, help her straighten one of the bars she’s placed crooked. She watches my hands, then mirrors the movement, correcting it herself. I brush a hand over her hair, light, careful.

  “I’ll be right back,” I murmur, even though she doesn’t answer. She nods anyway.

  As I stand, my thoughts crystallize about what I need to do next.

  The kid needed some new clothes, I could just head to the mall but I don't feel like going out anymore after this. I tell myself I’ll deal with the Undersiders later.

  That’s a lie, but it’s a useful one.

  Right now I’m standing in my room, staring at the personal fabricator like im wondering what I can make for a young little doll like her.. The thing can print combat armor rated for orbital insertion, precision-cut prosthetics, even customized mechs down to the micron but ask it to make clothes for a child? I’m not sure if the Terran data repository even have something like that. Do Terran do kids fashion? I’m not aware of it.

  “Okay,” I mutter, rubbing my temple. “Kid clothes. This should’t be too hard no?”

  The holographic interface floats in front of me, cycling through presets. Age nine. Terran civilian standard. I authorize the print, seems like they do have terran children wear but it’s quite limited.

  “Huh, we do have options. This is nice” I said as I browse and then pick one of the standard lining they offer.

  The fabricator hums with the light washing over the chamber, matter assembling layer by layer. Thirty seconds later, it presents the result.

  I picked up the shirt.

  It’s… fine. Well-made, soft enough and I suppose its durable enough for your average wear at home. It would also fit a perfectly healthy nine-year-old. Schneider, standing near the bed with her hands clasped in front of her, looks at it. Then at me. Then back at the shirt.

  She tilts her head slightly.

  “…Too big?” she says. Her voice is quiet, like she’s testing whether I’m just testing her with this, but it said nine years old, it…clearly didn’t fit her of course.

  I exhale through my nose. “Yeah. Too big.”

  I kneel in front of her and hold it up against her shoulders anyway, just to be sure. The hem hangs halfway down her thighs. The sleeves swallow her hands entirely, most kids will probably be too restless in her shoes. Then I forget that she’s nine. Aren’t nine year old supposed to be a little self aware of things?

  She doesn’t flinch, doesn't joke, her facial emotions are mostly flat so she just stands there, used to things not fitting. Seems like this isn’t the first time it happened. I felt something unpleasant to my chest.

  I scrap the model and start adjusting parameters manually. Height correction. Shoulder width. Torso length. I pause, then glance at her.

  “How tall are you, exactly?” I ask.

  She shrugs, small and practiced. “I don't know. Miss Applebaum said I stopped growing for a while because i didn’t eat well enough”

  That earns a tight nod from me. “Okay. We’ll go custom.”

  The second print comes out smaller. Better. Still not right. The pants bunch at the waist. The shirt slides off one shoulder if she moves too much. Schneider looks down at herself, pinches the fabric between two fingers. “It’s nice,” she says quickly, like she’s worried I’ll take it away.

  “I know its nice” I reply, keeping my voice even. “But nice isn’t the same as fitting.”

  I pull up a full-body scan, then hesitate before activating it.

  “Hey,” I say instead, meeting her eyes. “Is this okay? It just helps me make stuff that fits you better.”

  She studies my face for a long second. Then nods. “Okay.”

  The scan runs. Numbers update. And there it is, plain and unforgiving in cold Terran metrics bone density lag, muscle mass deficits, growth suppression from long-term malnourishment.

  “All right,” I say lightly, waving the data away. “That explains a lot. Give me a minute.”

  Nine years old.

  With the body of a four-year-old.

  Nothing I can do about it. Fixing long term malnourishment isn’t something that can be fixed in the short term. I’ll have Mercy to give me some advice on how to properly right her diet again. No kid of mine should suffer like this.

  The third print is slower, there’s an option for adaptive fabric this time, something with flexibility, something meant to grow with her instead of waiting for her to catch up even if the style is somewhat form fitting.

  I handed her the shirt first.

  She slips it on, tentative, like it might vanish if she moves too fast. Then she looks down.

  It fits.

  “…It’s warm,” she says.

  “Good,” I replied. “It’s supposed to be warm.”

  I crouch again to adjust the hem of the pants, making a small tweak with a gesture. The fabric responds instantly, shortening just a little for the rest of the clothing, not sure if what I did was right but it felt like this is how you’re supposed to shorten it. It’s not like there's a guide for this thing, at least I have the knowledge on how to operate the equipment, just not the tailoring sense to design and customize kids clothing on the fly.

  I have all the knowledge of all the Terran technology in my head but I couldn’t even have basic creative sense to short a skirt. Great. Parian would laugh at this since I operate on gut feeling. My pro gamer sensibilities could at least take it a a challenge, small comforts I guess.

  “How about now?”

  She takes a step. Then another. A tiny smile across her face before she can stop it.

  “Yeah,” she says. I lean back on my heels, arms resting on my knees, and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I should just head to the mall and get her clothes there. Custom building clothes is stressful when a kid eagerly watches your every move. I'm no designer. Messing up measurements? yeah...happened once already. Takes a few tries to get the right fit.

  “Okay,” I say. “We’ll make a few more. Different colors. Pajamas too. Shoes are going to be… a whole other issue”

  She looks up at me. “Do I have to pick?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. But you can if you want.”

  She thinks about it, then points hesitantly at the fabricator interface. “The blue one. Not the bright one. The lighter blue.”

  I smile despite myself. “Okay, blue it is.”

  As the fabricator starts humming again, Schneider wanders over and sits on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs still not quite reaching the floor, even now. Right now, my job is making sure my kid has clothes that fit.

  It took awhile, but I create a bunch of backup clothing for her. The rest? I’d think a trip to the Brockton Bay mall would be a finer choice, never knew fashion designing is so taxing on the mind. I'm drained for my current creativity quota. Pretty some of those pajamas came out wrong but Schneider doesn’t seem to mind or just don't care.

  Either way, she’s a good kid,

  She took a bath for the evening and I told her we need to go see a specialist about her. She doesn't seem to mind so I carried her and head to the Ghost academy since it’s a walking distance. Hana and Daehyun seems to be tinkering away in the Mechbay and I couldn’t be bothered to mess around with them again so we head to the intended location.

  Some of the guards I hired gave me a salute or a greeting in their Marine armor. "Good day Commander" I just nodded and smile. Lots of things changed here in the Command Centre. A lot of things here operated on military protocol as most of it was implemented by Monica and the rest of the Overwatch team I brought back.

  As their commander, my job is to just look good and be the face of the group, I’m supposed to leave the fighting and engagement to them, but some part of that didn't sit right with me knowing there are things out there I’m uncomfortable with sharing too soon.

  This is one of those things that I have to rely on myself rather than acting upon future knowledge I know, some things may change, but it doesn’t mean that things changed too much from it’s intended trajectory.

  And after a few stray thoughts of my inner turmoil, we finally arrive at The Ghost Academy . The place doesn’t look like a school, not exactly. It looks more like an abandon facility.

  That’s always the first problem.

  I guess, if this were in Terra, there would be a bunch of cadets running around doing psychic drills, but nope. Just angular Terran architecture half-sunk into the bedrock, shielded walls humming with low psionic resonance anti dampers, the kind you don’t hear so much as feel behind your eyes. The air always tastes faintly metallic here, like ozone after a storm. Makes me wonder if im psionic too, but I was told I'm just…ordinary. It would be cool to read people’s mind though, I could counter Tattletale at least.

  Schneider stays close to me as we walk inside.

  She’s wearing the quiet blue outfit she picked herself. Long sleeves. Soft blue boots. Clothes that finally fit with custom fit, courtesy of me, some of the cuts is a little amateurish but eh…who’s checking? Every few steps she glances around, eyes wide but not afraid of anything, more curious than anything like a cat, or a kitten. A cute blonde kitten in my arms.

  Preceptor Legadman is waiting in the observation hall when we arrive.

  One thing you notice is that she’s very tall, Silver black hair pulled back tight. Her eyes glow faintly with controlled psionic light, the kind that never flares unless she allows it. Ghost trainer. Former Specter. The kind of woman who could dismantle a platoon with a look and still correct your footwork afterward. She could probably blast you away if you look at her funny. Sometimes I forget that an unbound psionic can detonate like a nuclear missile, although that rarely happens anymore.

  I hope not, it would be a logistical nightmare to train a dormant psychic only for them to blew up half of the city. What would the backlash be? I don’t want to imagine it.

  She turns as we enter.

  “So,” she says calmly, gaze sliding from me to the girl at my side, “this is the child.”

  I nod. “This is Schneider, someone Madam Applebaum detected to be …well, you know the rest. I adopted her just recently and she’s not exactly well enough to be training properly.”

  Schneider gives a tiny wave, then immediately tucks her hand back into her sleeve. Legadman doesn’t smile, In the back of my mind I seem to have remembered something but it comes and goes as fleeting as my memory as it is unreliable, I don't think I ever saw a ghost agent, or a former Specter ever smile in media so this is a first. Her posture shifts a little as her attention sharpening like a blade drawn an inch from its sheath. She means serious business when it comes to potential psychics.

  “May I?” she asks.

  I glance down at Schneider. “You okay?”

  Schneider hesitates, then nods again as I set her down slowly and she stands on the floor looking up to the imposing Legadman woman.

  Legadman crouches in front of her, bringing herself eye-level without looming. No sudden movements from her,Psionic trainers know better than anyone how fragile unawakened minds can be.

  She closes her eyes.

  The room changes.

  It’s subtle, but I feel it somewhat, the hum deepening, the air tightening, like reality is being gently pressed from all sides. A controlled psionic scan, non-invasive, riding the edges of thought rather than punching through it…Somehow it’s a familiar feeling like getting blasted by an anti power dampener. Is that how this works? Feels the same as Monica Power Dampeners. Probably run on the same theory behind it.

  Schneider stiffens a little.

  I start forward, instinct flaring on reflex, Legadman raises one finger without opening her eyes. “Easy,” she murmurs. “She’s not in pain, just a little startled from the psychic resonance”

  Schneider’s eyes became unfocused for a second. Her breathing goes shallow. Then, the room started to vibrate just a little, lights flickering on and off like im in some sort of haunted academy but it’s just normal to them.

  Legadman’s eyes snap open.

  “Well, that went well enough.” she says quietly, That word carries weight coming from her. She straightens slowly, studying Schneider like she’s just discovered a loaded weapon wrapped in glass.

  “This child,” Legadman says, turning to me, “is a very powerful psionic, She's easily a seven or perhaps more if awakened.”

  I already suspected it. Somehow, that doesn’t make hearing it easier.

  “Latent psionics like her don’t manifest too easily, it’s locked behind her subconscious" she continues. “Deeply so. Her psionic pathways are present, well-formed… but dormant. Suppressed by this world.”

  “Suppressed how? Something different about Earth Bet?” I ask.

  Legadman looks back at Schneider, who has retreated half a step closer to my leg without realizing it.

  “Not by design of course, I suppose you might know a little since coming here, but, it’s a little dangerous to awaken her powers right now due to the many problems she presents.” she says. She gestures vaguely, as if that single word explains everything.

  “Malnutrition. Chronic stress. Prolonged trauma. A developing psionic mind requires stability, nutrients, safety, emotional grounding. Deprive it of those, and the mind does what it must to survive.” she said.

  “It shuts the door? ” I asked, wasn’t too sure what she’s implying but it’s probably no good if she’s not pushing it.

  Legadman nods once. “It’s not an issue for now, I was told we have a very competent doctor in the ranks. She will be in tip top shape soon if you would allow it of course Commander.”

  Schneider looks up at me, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

  The question hits harder than any revelation.

  I kneel immediately, hands resting on my thighs so I don’t grab her by accident.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “No,” I say firmly. “It’s not your fault, we can fix it.”

  She searches my face, then nods slowly, like she’s filing that away for later.

  Legadman folds her hands behind her back. “If her psionics had awakened earlier, in her previous environment, the outcome would have been catastrophic. Untrained Ghost-level potential in a child under extreme stress?” She shakes her head. “Best case, she burns herself out. Worst case…”

  “I get it kaboom and all that,” I say quietly.

  Silence settles for a moment. Then I ask the real question. Legadman’s gaze sharpens. “I don’t think we have to worry about that problem..”

  I stand, keeping one hand lightly on Schneider’s shoulder. “Can she grow normally?” I say, “without it hurting her?”

  Legadman considers. “Yes,” she says at last. “But not quickly. Not forcefully. She cannot be trained like a Ghost or a Spectre. Not yet. Perhaps not ever, depending on her choice.”

  Her eyes flick back to Schneider. “What she needs first is to be a proper child,” Legadman continues. “Her mental status needs Safety. Routine. Proper nutrition. Emotional stability. Only then can we even begin gentle psionic therapy, exercises designed to unseal pathways without triggering backlash.”

  Schneider frowns slightly. “Does that mean… I’m dangerous?”

  Legadman surprises me by softening her voice. “No,” she says. “It means you are powerful if you choose to be. There is a difference.”

  Schneider absorbs that in silence.

  “She should remain under observation,” Legadman says. “I’m not suggesting confinement, The confederacy method was…barbaric, I’m in no small part played a role in that, for now just monitoring. Just emotional spikes monitoring, stress responses these will be early indicators. If I have men to spare, I’d assign a ghost or a Wrangler to her position, but unlike our world, we are short staffed and displaced in another world that rely on very different set of rules, that includes how psychic powers work here. It wouldn't be wise to revive every single Psychic on the list of Engram you showed me. Much of theirs are below threshold of 60% and may suffer significant mental issue, For psychics? thats dangerous. I'm very glad you decided to only bring those with at least 90% Engram compatibility”

  We talked for awhile about how to nurture a children with psychic potential and what to expect, I absorb every advice she could give me.

  Schneider is already asleep against my shoulder, light as a bundle of blankets, breathing slow and even. The kind of sleep that only comes after you bore her with adults talking, I shift her slightly, making sure her neck is supported, and Legadman gestures toward a side corridor. We have been talking for an hour, the evening sun is already setting soon.

  “Walk with me,” she says.

  The Academy’s inner halls are quieter, layered with psionic dampeners that soften thought itself. Every step echoes like it’s happening inside my skull. Even I could feel the pull like gravity compressing onto me a little,

  Legadman’s hands are clasped behind her back as we walk.

  “What I’m about to say,” she begins, “is not doctrine from the Confederacy or the Dominnion, since you're the highest authority on Terran Command, it is my obligation to tell you what you needto know”That alone tells me how serious this is.

  “It’s a working theory,” she continues. “One I haven’t shared with the Dominion-equivalent authorities here, not even with your adjutant”

  I adjust Schneider’s weight and nod. “I’m listening.”

  She slows near a transparent wall overlooking a sealed chamber below. Inside, faint blue light pulses in slow, organic rhythms psionic monitoring equipment tied to nothing living at the moment.

  “We come from a universe where psionics are understood as a measurable, inheritable phenomenon,” Legadman says. “Terran psionics. Protoss psionics. Even Zerg psionics. Different expressions, but a common source.”

  “The Void and Aiur. I’ve been brief about it” I say.

  “Yes correct.”

  She turns to face me fully now. “Aiur’s archives were explicit. Protoss psionics are not generated like the others. Their genetic trait allows resonance with the Void at a level no Terran ever naturally achieved due to the Xelnaga engineering. Terrans required mutation, exposure, or artificial selection while The Zerg…” Her lip curls faintly. “They are engineered conduits based on adaptive evolution.”

  I glance down at Schneider, then back up. “You’re saying no one actually owns the power.”

  Legadman’s eyes gleam. “Most of us only find out later that we borrow it from the void.”

  She taps the wall once, sharply.

  “The Void is not merely energy. It is a substrate. A pressure field of possibility. Protoss commune with it consciously like the Xelnaga do, The protoss technically didn't naturally evolve their psionic abilities. They were engineered by the Xel'naga to have the potential to be one of the life forms that perpetuated the next cycle, and so were created to have psionic potential. Terrans pierce it. Zerg exploit it.”

  She exhales slowly.

  “Earth Bet psionics? Or in this case…parahumans do none of these things.”

  That makes me pause. “How are they different?” I ask.

  Legadman resumes walking.

  “In this world, power manifestation does not require contact with the Void,” she says. “Not directly. Instead, it draws upon something else. Something unnaturally internal.”

  “Unawakened potential here comes from a different source. Okay? Where did it come from?” I asked curious this time, Is she aware about Shard networks? this is very close to that theory.

  She nods. “That… I am entirely unsure, I’ve delved into these parahumans mind and the minds of many unawakened in this city, What the locals call a Corona polentia? a latent, unrealized capacity embedded in the human nervous system seems to contain and contain psychic resonance and forcefully lay it dormant..”

  I feel a chill crawl up my spine.

  “So when a parahuman triggers…”

  “They rupture,” Legadman says flatly. “Trauma forces the mind to break past its natural limits, tapping into polentia that should have remained dormant. Their powers are not gifts. They are scars.”

  That… explains too much.

  “And Schneider?” I ask quietly.

  Legadman stops again.

  “She is neither,” she says.

  “Her mind carries Terran-style psionic architecture like pre triggers do- most humans with a dormant Corona have the capacity to awaken as a psionic but don’t” Legadman explains. “Void-resonant pathways. Clean and Elegant but they never connected, the organ is an artificial organ forced by extra terrestrial means, like adaptive evolution similar to zerg physiology ”

  “Much of this pseudo science fly above my head a little but what you’re saying…,” I say.

  “Yes. Her brain developed a Corona Polentia and is suppressing the psionic wavelength before awakening. The door was never opened as another signal is jamming them, for what purpose? I do not know. Xeno physiology isn’t my strong point, you would have to consult a Terran Xenologist, but I surmise by the data collected from the Psi Dampers and Adjutant Monica’s calculation that…they correlate somehow.”

  She looks at me carefully. “If she had triggered like a parahuman, she would have drawn on Polentia wavelength instead. A completely different power set, cutting off her full potential as a freeform psychic.”

  “And if she awakens as a Terran psychic?”

  “Then she becomes a conduit,” Legadman says. “One that must be trained with extreme care. Because the Void does not forgive ignorance, or in this case..in this Universe? The void exists in a different dimension, I can tap into its energy but it’s raw and untapped free from any meddling.”

  Do I tell her about shards? And how do they interact with powers? About Zion? Since all powers came from Zion, are the psionics I brought in draw power directly from them?

  I swallow. “So Earth Bet psychics are… self-powered from a different source”

  “Yes. And limited,” Legadman replies. “They burn their own fuel. Terran psychics burn the universe’s, Perhaps once they awaken as a psionic ghost cadet, We can change the frequency to draw power from the void using a different frequency. Surgery is one method to do it, There’s also the method of tweaking the brain using a neural resocialization to alter the brainwave ”

  That lands like a hammer, brain surgery on my kid? How far do I want to take this?

  “Commander, I won't sugarcoat it but most of the methods I suggested are...” she finishes. “Unprecedented and potentially dangerous.”

  She places a hand on the wall, watching the pulsing light below.

  “This world has learned to fear its Parahumans or worship them depending on who’s asking” Legadman says.She turns back to me, voice lower now.”But psionics warriors of our caliber? We can …to a certain degree with training, can untap the unlimited possibilities of what these powers can do and more. Terran and Protoss technique isn’t the ceiling, not in this world, and untap void that shaped how power interactions can change things…even now I’m grasping with myself on how to wield this power using new and interesting applications.”

  I thought about what she said and wondered about the possibility of Psychics unrestrained by the path of ascension…There’s no need to rely on Terrazine Gas, or Psionic Matrix technology like the Protoss to advance, the potential is huge.

  “Schneider stands at a crossroads between those paradigms. If nurtured properly, she could choose to remain unawakened and live a normal life. Or…”

  “Or she could touch the Void,” I say.

  “Yes, a Pristine void without Xelnaga or Amon’s meddling, a pure power source untainted even by Aiur, adaptive psychic resonance that allows the psychic who awakened here to do hmm…perhaps a demonstration is in order?”

  I look down at the small girl asleep in my arms. At the child who survived by becoming quiet. By shrinking. By not being seen.

  “No one’s forcing her,” I say.

  She sighed and said “Let’s head upstairs, I’ll show you how things are different here.”

  Legadman doesn’t warn me.

  That, more than anything else, should have been the clue.

  We’re standing on one of the Academy’s exterior platforms, a place I hadn’t realized existed until we reach the highest part of the Academy. The city small little futuristic town I build in the image of Tarsonis can be seen from a distant from here, far enough that no one would notice what was about to happen and live close enough to complain if we were to do some field testing out here, Although I’m not so sure what we’re doing so high up in the Academy. She was supposed to show me something

  I can see the docks from here, the sea stretches out below us from the abandoned trainyard due to its elevated terrain, it’s mostly just, steel-gray metal, although most of the metal has been cleaned up by SCV.s there’s barely any stray metal around the ground and salvage area. Just the abandoned docks are still being salvaged by the far east, and most of those metal are underground near the place where we farm for natural gas.

  Schneider is no longer in my arms. Legadman had insisted firmly that I leave her inside, shielded, sleeping beneath layered psionic dampeners so dense they made my teeth hum just being near them. I hadn’t liked it, but I’d trusted her.

  Now I understand why.

  “Watch,” Legadman says.

  That’s all I need to know how different it is when she said things are really different here. She steps forward, boots resting on bare neosteel pavement with her, coat fluttering even though there’s no wind. For a brief, disorienting moment, I can’t feel her anymore not with my eyes, not with my instincts, It's like she stepped out of reality.

  Then the world roars in defiance..

  I feel the pressure first. The air thickens, charged with meaning. The horizon darkens as clouds begin to coil inward, not drifting, not forming naturally, but being pulled. Weather manipulation, she’s directly manipulating the weather, or at least looks like it.

  Legadman raises one hand.

  The sky answers.

  Lightning fractures the clouds in branching veins of white-blue fury, not a single bolt but dozens, interlacing, crawling across the firmament like a living nervous system. Thunder doesn’t follow a set of pathline it simply arrives at her beck and call, all at once, a concussive roar that rattles the platform beneath my boots.

  Psionic Gale. or just Psionic Storm from that one cutscene from a Protoss raining thunder all over the zergs.

  I know the technique. I’ve seen it simulated in video repository when thinking about who to revive, I’ve watched Ghosts strain themselves half to death just to approximate it through amplifiers, conduits, focusing rigs, entire command infrastructures dedicated to keeping their minds from shattering like what Terra Nova and Tosh did. Level 10 Spectre and Ghost.

  Legadman does it like she’s just doing it for stretching, and she claims she’s just a level 7 psionic.

  The wind slams into me a heartbeat later, violent and wet, carrying the salt of the ocean. Waves below us rear up unnaturally high as lightning spears downward, bolt after bolt slamming into the sea. Each impact leaves the water glowing for seconds at a time, plasma dancing across the surface before sinking back into darkness.

  That woman just did a psychic storm of lightning several kilometers away from our location out at the sea with ease.

  I glance at her hands.

  There’s no conduit. No psi-blade emitter. No armor-integrated focus Aiur crystal, not like we could actually build or mine one. No neural crown too, It’s purely her power.

  The Void is there. I can feel it now, a vast, cold presence pressing close, throwing everything I knew about starcraft psychic out of the door. And Legadman isn’t forcing it open like Terran psychics do she’s somehow cheating it, tap into something unbelievable here and went overspec for whatever fits the mold for psionic warriors.

  She’s letting it flow through her and her eyes flicker with lighting pulses for a second and seems to be aware of something. She lowers her storm-calling hand and turns the other palm upward.

  Light condenses along her forearm, hard-edged and brilliant. A psionic blade extrudes from her wrist, pure azure energy, humming with lethal clarity. Then another forms from the opposite arm, symmetrical and flawless. She flexes slightly, and the blades respond as naturally as fingers.

  Psi Blade.

  She just…what the fuck am I looking at right now? How the hell did she even manifest a psi blade?! I thought that was a Protoss exclusive skill!

  “This,” Legadman says calmly, her voice somehow carrying over the storm without effort, “is what an unrestrained psychic looks like in this world.”

  She sweeps one blade outward. Within seconds, it’s as if the storm had never existed, except for the lingering ozone in the air and the faint, glowing scars where lightning struck the water.

  Yeah fuck it, I call bullshit on that.

  The clouds part-

  It fucking part away-

  Like curtains being drawn back by an unseen hand. The lightning ceases instantly, the wind dying down as though embarrassed it had overstepped. This is some wuxia jianghu Bullshit. I call bullshit on this. Since when did Wormverse turned into some xinxia cultivation bullshit power level scale?! I want my slice of life grimdark Stompy mechs genre back!

  Oi goddess, did you send my ass here because you already expected this?! Am I an alternative reality television show for gods entertainment that I don't know about? This has gotta be a joke isn’t it?

  Fuck me-

  Who fucking cares about Xelnaga or Queen of the blades bullshit. I have the greatest psychic in the world right here, and she’s worry we bring more people like her into this world? It’s a very good point.

  A very damn good point. Should I? Should we?

  Legadman dismisses the blades. They vanish without residue, without heat shimmer, without so much as an echo.

  She turns to face me fully now.

  “That would level a city,” I say quietly.

  “Yes,” she agrees. “If I wished I could level a few cities on a whim. There’s also, levitation, reading minds? Controlling minds…every skillset a Spectre and Ghost training raised towards the scale of ten or more, I couldn’t be sure what’s the capacity, but I certainly could do more given more time to train it”

  The weight of that statement settles in my chest like a dropped anvil.

  “This world,” Legadman continues, “has never seen what Void-resonant psionics look like when they are allowed to mature naturally. What they fear is a shadow of what is possible.”

  She studies me, eyes sharp, assessing.

  “And now you understand why I am cautious with Schneider or with any Psionics I bring into the Academy. There’s just too much at stake here Commander. I hope you understand the gravity of the situation that presents itself. If..and that’s a big IF my finest former students Terra Nova and Gabriel Tosh, if they were alive here in this world, they would wreck havoc like the world has never seen before. Who’s to stop them?”

  I look back toward the Academy, toward the place where my daughter is sleeping safely, unaware that the universe itself could one day answer her thoughts.

  “I don’t know what to do with this information.,” I say. She said she could mindcontrol anyone easily like breathing air? Oh the master rating on that will have every parahuman organization and perhaps even Couldron turn their eyes over here. Glad I had our power dampeners cloaking our area. It doesn't seem to affect psionics at all.

  I glance down and see the hospital channel identifier. The caller ID shows that it’s Mercy. Did things turn for the worst in the hospital or is it something else?

  “Angela? I got your message earlier, sorry. Things are a little scattered around here without Monica” I say, forcing my voice steady.

  “ Hello Jason, I’ts been awhile. We are all busy so I appreciate you taking this call but this is important” Her tone is clipped, professional, but there’s an edge there I’ve come to recognize. Concern, layered under control. “I’m calling because the Undersiders are awake.”

  That pulls me fully back into the present.

  “All of them?” I ask.

  “Yes. Most of them are finally away and under observation,” she says. “No lasting neurological damage from Ana’s beating, just multiple fractures, bruising, dislocations. But they will recover. The Cadeceus nano technology is doing wonders for the patients here” Angela Ziegler was not happy about the intake, but they’ll recover If she says so.

  I exhale slowly. That part, at least, had been expected, Then Mercy continues.

  “Genji regained consciousness first. He was coherent enough to identify the attacker.”

  My fingers curl slightly.

  “Who?”

  There’s a brief pause on the line. I imagine her checking a readout, or maybe just choosing her words carefully.

  “He said the person who injured him called himself the Flame King.”

  Ahh fuck, what did Jinho did now. Friendly fire?! Why the hell is that haremlord did a friendly fire on Genji of all people! He’s asian too! I thought they were on the same side! Last I heard Hanzo and Genji were working together with him, what the hell happened?

  “Did he elaborate?” I ask.

  “He mentioned it was a misunderstanding. Something about Hanzo escalating things and pisses him off, the resulting method backfired when they were going after Oni Lee retreating and met Lung, some altercation happened, The hellions were deployed and Genji was caught in the cross fire and was launched away directly towards the Hospital, whether that’s intentional or not, Genji claimed that His flame packs a lot of force despite being purely fire.”

  That tracks uncomfortably well with his recent Modus Operandi after he asked for some Hellions, Jinho, what were you doing going up against Lung? And what’s up with the friendly fire? when did flour manipulation turned to fire spec of all a sudden? I really need to get hold of Jinho personally.

  I glance back at Legadman, who hasn’t moved, her expression unreadable. I don’t know how long she’s been listening, but I know better than to assume she hasn’t.

  “Did Genji say why he intervened?” I ask.

  “No he didn’t, just something about not meddling into his territory”

  Did that fucker think he’s unbeatable and did power changed him as all of that went to his head? Fucking Korean harem Protagonist MC bullshit. What the hell is he trying to do here? Take over the ABB?

  “Is Genji stable enough to talk?” I ask.

  “Physically? Barely. Mentally? Yes,” Mercy says. “He’s agitated. He keeps insisting this Flame King wasn’t trying to kill them. Just… making a point.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” I say quietly. “Keep them under observation. I’ll come by once things here are settled.” One more problem on my plate and I can’t rely on Monica to smooth things over, I just realize I tend to delegate most of the day to day stuff to her, With her network disconnected from the Main base and is currently setting up another in New York, things has been…difficult.

  Reminds me of the day I first got here. That was unpleasant as my only talking buddy was SCV1.

  “Jason,” Mercy adds, stopping me before I can end the call. “ Well, not to burst your bubble but the Undersiders is trying to escape the hospital.”

  “What?” I replied.

  The line goes dead. I lower my arm and stand there for a moment longer, the sound of waves filling the silence.

  Huh?

  First Jinho, then the Undersiders, then Genji and Hanzo god knows what with their beef is with Jinho and his crew.

  I miss Monica.

  Legadman doesn’t pretend she wasn’t listening. She turns towards me, concerned I think, stormlight still faintly clinging to her like an afterimage, eyes sharp and analytical as they settle on me.

  “You’re anticipating escalation,” she says calmly. Not a question if you’re thinking that way, . “Do you require assistance?” I shake my head immediately of course, there’s no way in hell I would want a psionic out in the field, not after what she just “demonstrated” to me.

  “No,” I answered a little too forceful but it wasn’t my intention as she raised her left eyebrow a little, dont need to be a mindreader to know she knew what I knew..Mind readers. It’s complicated.. “The fewer people who know what a Terran Ghost can actually do in this world, the better.”

  Her gaze lingers, measuring me the way only someone who understands power really can. Not offended. Not dismissed. Just… filing it away, “A predictable answer but I acknowledge it,” Legadman says. “Sooner or later you will have to pull the trigger Commander. I can read your thoughts, your mind but I won’t. There’s something you’re hiding isn’t it?.”

  She steps back, giving me space, but her voice follows me even with the jig is up. It’s not like I was trying to hide things but again..its complicated. I just nodded, if she did read my mind then she shares the same burden as I do and realize that things aren’t as easy as it seems in this world, to give me the benefit of the doubt?

  That’s mighty kind of her for a mind reader. She knows it too since she was smiling earlier. I think she knew it already in some parts of my unfiltered mind.

  “If that child manifests,” she adds, quieter now, “you will not be able to shield her from this world alone with everything that is happening in this world, I’m not so sure if a well trained Spectre and ghost operative can do much against the threats of this world, but…if there’s a way, humanity will find a way to overcome it. Terran ingenuity will prevail, this I believe no matter where we are.”

  I don’t reply. If I do, I might admit she’s right, I mean, I want to believe in the power of human ingenuity too, just base humans solving issue without relying on power, just creativity knowledge and sound logic to think outside the box in solving issues.

  I nodded “Thank you for the advice, I have to go, will you take care of Schneider for me? Perhaps bring her back to the Command Centre? Shes still sleeping”

  Legadman nodded “It will be my pleasure Commander, You’re a busy man. Tend to your issues, don’t worry. Adjutant Monica will be back in a couple of days”

  Yeah no shit, doesnt need a psychic to tell I really depend on Monica to do stuff around here.

  I head to the mechbay hangar. The door slide open with a low mechanical growl, light spilling across polished steel and reinforced plating. The Viking is already there, suspended in its cradle, assault form partially deployed like a predator mid-stretch.

  I’m halfway up the access ramp when a familiar voice cuts in.

  “Hey hareobouji! hold up!”

  I stop.

  Hana Song jogs into the hangar, helmet tucked under one arm, black hair pulled back, eyes bright with the kind of excitement that only comes from imminent chaos.

  “You’re heading out, aren’t you?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

  “Hana, stop calling me grandpa in Korean, it’s unsettling” I sigh. “ and this isn’t a test flight, Something happened to genji and some kids with powers are stirring up shit in the Hospital, I kinda need to be there personally for that”

  “Aww ,” she grins. “Neither is this.”

  Behind her, the hangar floor shifts. Panels retract. Magnetic clamps disengage.

  Tokki rises.

  The MEKA is sleeker than the Viking, but the lineage is unmistakable Terran refined through esports instincts and battlefield pragmatism. Where the Viking is angular and militaristic, Tokki is curved, expressive, painted in polished blues and whites with glowing accents along the joints and thrusters. Twin arm cannons hum softly as the reactor spins up, a higher-pitched whine compared to the Viking’s growl.

  She hops into the cockpit in one smooth motion.

  “Based on your Viking’s transform architecture, I have remade Tokki in MEKA’s Image!” Hana says over the comm, fingers already dancing across controls. “But optimized for urban response. Faster vectoring, better lateral thrust, less collateral none of that assault mode nonsense, I just add better jet thrusters and viola! It’s done!.”

  I stop at the base of the ramp and look up at her. Well, yeah…they dont have an assault mode. But that also means her flying speed is slower than the viking in pure speed.

  “Im heading to the hospital…you sure you want to debut with your Mech?” I say flatly.

  “Eh, Don’t be such a spoilsport, I’m an engineer too! Gotta show my baby out in the world! It’s been days since I was cooped up in the Hangar just fiddling” she replies. “Which means if any parahumans with bad intentions decided to show up, you’ll want someone who can intercept without leveling three blocks.”

  Tokki’s thrusters flare briefly, controlled and precise, a little too precise for such little movement. What’s her DPI on that setting?

  You know..Mercy, Genji, even Pharah and Ana are there” she adds, more serious now. “And I’m definitely not missing a live test when trouble’s already scheduled, can’t you sense it? I smell trouble brewing. You know it too, don't cha?”

  I grind my teeth, then exhale.

  “Fine,” I mutter. “But you stay on overwatch unless I say otherwise.”

  She laughs. “You say that like I ever listen, Skill issue much?”

  “Ugh..I do not need a lecture from a gamer girl fuck… I feel so old, when was the last time I use leet talk in a conversation? Wait till you meet up with Uber and Leet” I said and she just laugh

  “ Muyo? Who's Leet and Uber? You’re admitting you’re old? Keep up boomer, Let this gamergal show you how it’s done!” she snarked back. I can never get used to her personality. She’s such an extrovert.

  The Viking’s systems come online around me as I climb into the cockpit. HUDs flicker to life, targeting reticles aligning, reactor output climbing to operational levels. Two Terran machines. Two very different philosophies if I might add.

  “Flight control seems a little janky.Did you touch my mech Hana?!” I say, hands wrapping around the controls, she messed with my gyro controls somehow, its a lot more higher in sensitivity. The hell?!

  “No? “ she said, rubbing her neck, she’s fucking lying. Tokki shifts beside me, matching my posture.

  “MEKA ready,” Hana says. “Race you to the hospital?”

  The hangar doors split open, sunlight and sky flooding in. I push the throttle forward and I immediately switch to Assault mode and leave her for dust “Keep up gamer girl” as I taunt her and blast off.

  “Hey!! We haven’t counted to three yet! Shibal Saekiya! You’re cheating! You hack!”

  **********************

  A/N

  The more I edit it the more I add to stuff, and uhh..it’s already 8k. I dont wanna cut stuff so it is what it is.