Rosenkreuz… sweet Rosenkreuz…

Chapter 2: Second Chances 

The mentor students started to call for their new charges.  Crawford came around the room and stood next to Bren.  "It appears, Schuldich… that you are coming with me.  This way."  The black haired man led him from the room and through the corridors.  "Go ahead."

"Uh?"

"Ask away."

"How?  Are you a telepath?"

Crawford snorted.  "No.  I'm a precog."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"Um, where are we going?"

"To the room we will be sharing for this semester.  At the end you will move into the dorms and the mentor students will have private rooms, it's a 'reward' for dealing with you lot."

"You're not German, are you?"

"No.  American."

"Your German is very good."

"Thank you, do you speak English?"

"A few words… but not a lot."

"You will."

"That a prediction?" he asked sarcastically.

"No.  Everyone gets taught English because so much of the world uses it.  You will no doubt learn other languages as well.  You will understand tomorrow at your educational orientation."  He paused before a door.  They had climbed three levels and traversed what appeared to be a maze to reach it.  "This is our room."

Bren took a look, he was less than impressed.  The whole thing measured maybe 12x15 feet.  A small bed, almost a cot really, was pushed into each of the far corners.  At the end of each bed was a small cupboard.  A single desk sat in between the beds under the small window.  The walls themselves where cement block, painted an off-white, the floor an unattractive tile.  He sighed, this place was distinctly lacking in color.  And how would he ever find his way around.  Crawford pushed past him and sat at the desk, opening a large book and readying paper and pencil.

"And don't worry about the size of the place.  You'll get a map tomorrow and you'll be able to find your way around soon enough." 

/Orientation my ass!/  It wasn't an orientation… it was bloody brainwashing, and if Bren could recognize it at 12 years old, he was either smarter than the average recruit, or they were clumsy.  He was hoping for smarter.  It became apparent to him fairly quickly what the rules to survival were in this place.  Stay quiet, do what you're told, don't ask questions, don't disobey… and you might just make it out of here in one piece.  Physically.  He didn't hold out much hope for mentally.  Almost no one was here by choice.  They had all been picked up, from homes and families, orphanages, off the streets; and brought in some cases thousands of miles because they MIGHT become a powerful psi.  As the head instructor droned on about rules and consequences it was obvious to Bren that they didn't really care about their students well being. 

The hierarchy of the place also seemed to be very important.  They were the lowest of the low and anyone, from instructors to upperclassmen, to the staff that cleaned the bathrooms, could order them about at will.  Bren was sure there were rules meant to keep them at least moderately safe, but whether they were enforced or not… he didn't really hope for much.

Finally they were given course lists, waited in line, again, to get books and supplies including additional uniforms, and then told to spend the rest of the day, wandering around the facility with their maps.  They wouldn't get another opportunity to learn how to get somewhere, classes started tomorrow; there was no excuse for tardiness.

/Dammit all!  Where the Hell is that stairway?/  Bren had gone wandering as soon as he'd dropped his books off in his and Crawford's room.  Good thing he had an excellent memory, cause finding his way to the various classrooms was difficult.  The place was a maze, full of corridors and staircases and everything looked alike.  There were no reference points anywhere.  No handy signs to help you on your way.  Just miles of stark hallways and intersections.  And now… he was lost.  He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.  It was getting close to mealtime and he couldn't figure out how to get to the dining hall.  He knew he was in the educational wing, classrooms and labs lined the corridor, but how did he get back out of here.  Bren sighed and slumped against one wall, trying to puzzle out his map.

"Well… what do we have here?  Did a little first-year get turned around?"

Bren looked up to see an upperclassman, a very large upperclassman, grinning down at him.  He looked more like a master looking down on his favorite dog.

"Well, runt?"

"Um.. yes sir.  If you could please tell me how to get back to the service wing I would appreciate it."

"Sure… but what are you going to do for me?"

"I don't understand."

"If I help you.  Nothing's for free around here, runt.  So what ya gonna do for me."

Bren swallowed nervously.  He didn't like the way this guy was looking at him, like toy waiting to be played with.  /Think, think… you've always been able to get out of situations before… /  He looked at the guy's uniform.  /Red… oh shit… physical psi.  If he's a tk I'm in a lot of trouble… Hell, if he's a pyro I'm in trouble…/  He realized it was taking him too long to think when the older teen suddenly loomed over him.

"You see, runt.  I'm used to getting certain… services.  Now, I'm sure a pretty thing like yourself has done this before."  His hand rested on his hip, drawing Bren's attention to the front of his pants, and the very obvious bulge.  "Now… you take care of my little problem here… and I'll take care of yours.  Fair trade if I do say so myself."  He suddenly lunged forward, trapping Bren between him and the wall, grinding his hips into the younger boy's slight body.  "What do you say… runt?"

"I say back away from him before I break your neck."  Crawford leaned casually against the wall a little ways away, watching them with cold, brown eyes.

"Oh you do, do you… Crawford?"  The bully pushed away from Bren with reluctance.  And then he was lying on the cold tiled floor, blood spurting from his nose. 

Crawford wiped a bit of blood off his hand.  "Yes… I do.  McAllen."

McAllen hauled himself up off the floor and stumbled away.  "Shit Crawford, I didn't know he was yours alright!  Damn…"  He disappeared around a corner.

Crawford turned his brown eyes on Bren, they were warmer than before.  "You okay?"  Bren didn't trust himself to speak so he just nodded.  "Come on… it's almost dinner time."  He led the way out of the wing and toward the more populated areas.  "Just a warning.  Stick around others for now.  First-years are always popular targets.  Don't go off by yourself until everyone gets sorted out.  McAllen will leave you alone now… others won't be so wise.  I can't always predict when you'll get into trouble."

"You 'saw' it?"

"Yes.  And I saw what would happen if I didn't intervene.  Learn the ropes fast, kid.  There are no second chances in this place."