INTRODUCTION
Tate was running, running, running. Always running away from something. He ran into what seemed to be an abandoned old house in the middle of a forest. He climbed the tree, before entering the house through the attic window. The crime enforcers ran past the house, but another problem became evident: footsteps were echoing in the halls and coming closer and closer. "Is anybody there?" A voice, deep and silky, called out to the attic, as Tate stood there, paralyzed in his fear. I'm sure going to get it now!
Tate looked around, his bag of stolen goods in one hand and his backpack hanging off of one shoulder. "Tate, I know you're up there," the voice said, loudly and clearly, as Tate hid behind a blanket and a pile of rubbish. The footsteps came closer, and Tate's heart beat faster and louder; he trembled in terror that he would get another lashing. A hand on his shoulder, gentle and light, caused him to erupt in a world of pain.
"AAAAaaaaAAAGH!" Tate screamed, feeling the wounds on his back bleed once more. "Please, I'm sorry, I don't want 'nother lashing! Please, sir, I'm sorry! I'll leave right away!"
"Shhh shhh shhh shhhh," Ben hushed, "are you hurt?"
Tate nodded, as he looked the dark stranger over. He wore black silk trousers that looked worth more that Tate's life, and a dress shirt the color of the midnight sky. His eyes were dark, and as was his hair, which was short and combed. "Yes, sir," Tate responded, hesitant but something about the man made him trust him.
"My name is Ben, Ben Harmon, I'm a licensed psychiatrist and I'm only going to help you. You have the Mark, giving you the power to control things with your mind, and I have been given the power to read people's mind, control it, and to teleport using shadows. I also know that you are seven years old, have wounds that need tending to, and that I can help you. Do you accept my help?"
"Yes, Doctor Harmon," Tate responded, smiling lightly.
"Thank you," Ben responded, smiling.