Disclaimers: I still own everyone except Bradley! Well, I don't own Estet
or Rosenkreuz either now...but...you know...
Chapter II
A man can learn to steal some thunder/ A man can learn to work some wonder/ And when the gauntlet's down, it's time/ to rise and climb the sky -Falcon in the Dive from The Scarlet Pimpernel
Brad's parents, when asked, would've said that Nathan's death had alone changed their son's personality. They would talk about how he had been an active boy once, very agreeable and charming, and if given more time, he'd surely become that way again.
Denial is often the same thing as hope.
It was a hot day in August, the humidity close to one hundred percent. It was the sort of weather where you felt you were living in a sponge, and breathing the wet air was hell. Most women hated to go outside on the basis that their hair would frizz up in seconds, and any hairstyle that they had worked on would be undone. Even without this excuse, most people agreed to stay inside on DC's August days. People outside were hurrying from place to place at the fastest the heat would allow them. Tour groups trudged along from museum to museum, only happy once they'd reached the cold recesses of the inside. Vendors set up along the street sold their water for as much as they think they could, and as long as they had an "Ice Cold" sign hanging up, they wouldn't have a problem. Obsessed joggers pounded along the dry hot sidewalks of the city, and the Mount Vernon trail was filled with its regulars.
Brad Crawford sat on one of the benches that surrounded the tidal basin. He was near the Lincoln Memorial, near a sign that said "Watch out for Low Branches." During the spring the Cherry Blossom trees that he now sat under were the most beautiful things in DC. The tidal basin was always crowded with people who wanted to come visit the blossoms; to take pictures of the palest pink flowers. Sometimes a light breeze would catch the petals, blowing them off the trees and creating a tiny blizzard. Children were always trying to catch the wayward petals, their laughter carrying through the groves. The time of the blossoms was always short, and by August, the trees were only dry things, their leaves the pale green that indicated they needed more water. Brad reached for one such leave now, plucking it neatly and crumpling it in his hand. The boy sighed. He was so tired of his parents. They didn't understand him.
For whatever reason, Brad hadn't told his parents about his future seeing abilities. When Nat was still around, the two had felt it was a monumental secret, something to keep between the two of them only. It had aided them in various ways, and they both felt it would lose something if others were to know about it. So, everytime Brad had gotten a little vision or premonition, he'd tell Nat immediately, and sometimes they would be able to make it to their advantage. Now it was only his secret, but telling it to his parents or to anyone, would be like breaking a promise he'd made with Nat. He couldn't do that.
Since Nat's death, his visions had started to come more frequently. It was to the point of being distracting. That's why he was sitting here now. There were few people traversing along here at this time of the day. When he was around others, he would randomly get a vision of something that would happen to them. He had no control over these visions and they had begun to assault him more and more. He had never looked forward to school before, and this year would be even worse. The thought of having to be privy to the future of all his classmates was disconcerting. Brad had begun to hate his visions. Not only were they distracting, but he often got visions of his immediate future, too. By the time he got to the thing he'd just seen, he felt like he was living his life in replay, except he didn't get to experience it the first time.
The sun had begun to set behind him, the trees casting dark shadows over him and the water. Brad sighed. His parents would start worrying if he didn't go home now. They had been on his back more since Nat's death, as if he couldn't go places by himself. They said they only worried for him. Brad wished they would leave him alone. Sighing again, the dark haired boy stood up. He brushed the crumbled leaf from his hand and shoved his hands in his pockets. School started in two weeks. Damnit.
* * * *
"Bradley! Where've you been?"
"I went for a walk. I told you that."
"That was four hours ago!"
"It was a long walk."
"Wash your hands for supper. Your father is going to have a talk to you after dinner."
"You shouldn't be angry. I said I was going for a walk," Brad responded hotly. He was tired of his parents bothering him. If he wanted to spend time by himself, then they should allow that!
Dinner was a very sullen event. It was eaten in silence, with his mother casting glances at him occasionally. Brad poked idly at the food, not interested in eating. He hadn't been interested in much lately. Everything he did reminded him of his best friend, so his solution was to not think. Even now, when he allowed his mind to wander, he found himself thinking about the last time Nat had been over. His mother had served the same meal-steak and peas. While his parents hadn't been watching, the two boys flicked the green spheres at one another. They did their best to hide their giggles, and his mom had asked more then once what was going on. The two answered with broad grins on their faces that nothing was up, and there was no reason for her to be suspicious. It had all ended when Brad has accidentally smacked his dad in the forehead with a pea.
Brad felt a hitch in his throat.
He wouldn't think about that. He wouldn't.
* * * *
"Son, it's time we had a talk about your behavior," Brad's father began. They were sitting in the living room, his dad in his favorite chair. He was leaning forward, rubbing his hands together. Brad watched passively, he had listened to the conversation in a vision at dinner. The boy sat back in his chair, nodding or shaking his head when his father said something that deserved an answer. When he was asked why he was behaving a certain way he answered with a shrug and a muttered "I dunno." He didn't want to talk to his parents about his mood. Finally, his father finished and he was free to go.
Brad placed his glasses on the bedside table, in the same place they had been before. His eyesight immediately blurred, and he lay down in his bed. There were no fireflies next to his bed on this night. Their season was over, and they were gone until next year. His fan was on high, spinning the model airplanes he had hanging from the ceiling in lazy circles. His room was immaculate. After Nat's death, stricken with grief, Brad had decided to clean his room. It was an act born of desperation, something to keep his mind off the present. It was his way of dealing with his grief, and by the time he was done, two trash bags were filled and his room was completely devoid of dust. Now he hung his clothes up accordingly, or neatly put them in the drawer after his mom folded them. He disposed of his dirty clothes in the hamper, no longer leaving them on the floor. When he worked on models, a task now devoid of joy and something that simply occupied his concentration, he was sure to clean them up. Before his room had been a wasteland of unused models and their parts. He felt a certain joy at keeping his room neat.
Gone, also, were any signs of Nat, except for a picture by his bedside which his blurry eyes were now focused on.
School started in two weeks. He would be a seventh grader, just starting middle school. He didn't want to go to middle school.
* * * *
"Hey, Four Eyes!" The call stopped Brad in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. He turned to look at a large kid, a malicious grin on his face. He had obviously decided to start the hierarchy first thing. That was fine.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me," The boy sneered. Brad walked towards him. He knew more taunting was supposed to take place, and like the good little victim he was supposed to snivel and allow himself to be picked on. Instead, he neared the boy and delivered a strong right jab, hitting the boy square in the nose. His taunter's eyes widened, and his hand immediately went to his face, blood pouring from his nose. He didn't want to go through the customary motions.
"You bastard!" He screamed, face going red and he launched himself at the boy. Brad sidestepped neatly, elbowing the boy in his back as he stumbled past.
"My name is Brad Crawford," He said, pushing the glasses up on his nose, "It would be wise to remember that."
* * * *
Brad sat slouched in his seat, watching the teachers lecture. His eyes processed everything moments after he'd already seen him in his mind.
"Mr. Crawford-"
"Lexington."
"I haven't asked-"
"You were to going say 'Where were the first shots of the Revolutionary war fired?"
"How-"
"You're that predictable," Brad responded shortly. As time passed, his visions had gotten to the point where he was seeing everything double- that was about to happen, and as it happened. This constant knowledge of the future had made Brad somewhat bitter. He also discovered it was easy to snub everyone around him. He was always one step ahead of them. He also felt he was one step closer to insanity. Things seemed so cluttered.
Brad shifted his gaze to the window. October sunlight filtered in, catching dust mites that danced briefly through the light. Brad concentrated on the mites. His vision tended to lesson, or at least become obvious when he narrowed down on something. He needed to get someone to help him. He couldn't deal with this.
The bell rang, and Brad pushed his seat back, joining the throng of kids in the hallway who hurried on their way home. Fellow classmates pulled and pushed their way past him, laughter echoing through the hallways. Girls grouped together, walking slowly as they talked and giggled about boys and other mundane things. Lockers slammed loudly as kids grabbed their books, shoving them in their backpacks as they proceeded to hurry on to their buses. Brad watched them all, feeling apart but not worse for it. All these people were lower then him.
He needed to get out of here.
* * * *
By Christmas, Brad was living completely in the future by at least a few seconds. He answered questions before teachers even realized they were going to ask them. He responded to his parents before they called for him. He was the best fighter at school because he always knew what his opponent was going to do, so not only was he ready to block or duck, but he already had a counter attack in mind. On December 16, it had gotten to the point that his parents knew something was very wrong, and they decided to take him to the hospital. So, on that cold December morning, the family piled into their Volvo and headed towards the military hospital, Walter Reed.
As his parents drove, Brad looked out he window, seeing the scenery pass first in his mind, and then as they actually drove by them. "It's snowing," Brad noted, a slight note of surprise in his voice. It was rare for snow in December in DC.
"No it's-" His father started, but abruptly cut off as small snowflakes swirled in the chilly wind, blown into this windshield. He and his wife shared a look, not saying anything. Brad lapsed again into silence, not noticing his parents unease.
But then, suddenly for the first time in months, his mind focused. It was a dizzying experience as he felt himself thrown back into what he had thought to be the past, but was really the present. Brad's eyes focused on a man standing in the middle of the road.
"Dad! Watch out!"
Brad's father responded quickly, throwing his foot down on the peddle, sending the car into a fishtail. Brad held on tightly to the arm rest attached to the door, his teeth clenched tightly. Suddenly the car straightened out and stopped mere inches from the man, who leaned forward with a grin on his face. His father started cursing and blowing his horn, and Brad turned when he heard a knocking on his window. He turned to see the face of a middle aged man smiling kindly back at him. Brad's father immediately locked the doors, but they were unlocked just as quickly, and the door was pulled open.
"Good morning, Mr. Bradley Crawford. We've been waiting for you."
"You have?"
"You're right on time," The man responded as way of answer. He held out his hand, "My name is Thomas Grueber, That's TOE-MAS. It's the German pronunciation," Thomas said, and Brad noted that he did speak with a slight accent. "I know what your problem is, and I know how to help you. There's a whole school filled with people like you. Would you like to come? We can help you keep your mind clear."
Brad shot a look to his parents. His mother was looking furtively back at him, her face pale, her breathing heavy. next to her, his father was kicking the door while pulling on the seat belt that wouldn't budge. He was cursing loudly at the man on the hood, and at Thomas. He warned them to let him out, to leave his son alone. Brad looked back at Thomas, remembering what it had been seconds before. If this man could help keep his mind clear...
"You can keep it away?"
"Keeping it away would be a pity. We can help you focus it, though. Use it to your advantage."
"Will I see my parents again?" Brad was suddenly anxious. This could be his break. To learn how to change his future, and to control his visions.
"Of course."
"Goddamnit! Leave my son alone!" Brad's father was throwing himself against the seat, his face red with fury.
"Don't worry, Mr. Crawford. We have everything under control. We'll be giving your son topnotch education, all expense paid. We'll also help him with his problem," Thomas explained, leaning across Brad and unbuckling his seat belt. As the child began to climb out of the car, his mother started screaming in strangled cries.
"Wait," Brad said, pulling away. He climbed back into the car and leaned forward into the front seat, grabbing his mom as best as he could from his position, kissing her on the cheek. Sobbing, she wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him into her chest. Brad stayed there for a moment, listening to the beating of his mothers heart. It was a familiar rhythm, one he had heard many many years ago, and the sound comforted him again. Finally, he pulled away.
"Don't leave, Bradley!" His mother made out brokenly, rivers of tears rushing down her face. Brad felt tears well in his own eyes as he turned to hug his father.
"Please reconsider, Bradley. There's so much left to do. Don't leave your mother and I...please...think of your future."
"I am, Dad. That's why I'm doing this. When I have it all worked out, I'll come back," Brad said quietly, with the gravity of one who had lived in another world for many months, only to come back and realized just how much he had changed.
"Are you ready?
Brad nodded, pulling himself away from his parents and slowly stepping out of the car.
"What about your clothes? Your stuff?" His mother's priorities came first, and twelve year old boys couldn't take care of themselves. Who would fold his clothes? Give him soup when he was sick?
"It's already been taken care of, Mrs. Crawford," The German said, the charismatic smile on his face. He gave a slight bow and turned away, Brad going with him. The one who had stopped the car caught up to them with long strides, and soon the trio was out of site. Mr. Crawford found he could unlock the car and unfasten his seat belt, and after completing that, he jumped from the car, his face red with grief and anger. His wife sat sobbing in the car.
"He never even looked back."
* * * *
"Why did you come with us?" The man who stopped the car looked over at Brad, "We could be perverts or something."
"You stopped the future," Brad said.
"Ne kid, even we can't do that," The man said with a chuckle.
"That's John Firth. He's a telekinetic. I'm sorry about his attitude, he's a little crude."
"You were being affected pretty badly, weren't you kid?"
"His mind is a wreck. We're going to have to help him build up a wall before sending him to Rosenkreuz. They'd rip him apart. We have to give them a call as soon as we get to New York, too."
"What's going on?"
"You have the potential to be one of the strongest precognitive that Rosenkreuz has seen in a long time. We're going to be taking you up to headquarters in New York. After Jim and I help you here, we'll send you to RosenKreuz"
"What's Rosenkreuz?"
"It's a school for kids like you-with a Talent. It's headed by an organization called Estet."
"You're life is going to change bit time from here on out," Jim interjected. Brad looked at him for a moment before turning back to Thomas.
"Thomas, is there such a thing as fate?"
"It depends."
"On what?"
"On you," Thomas replied amibiguosly.
* * * *
On the train ride up to New York, Brad learned that Jim and Thomas were recruiters. It was there job to find people who had potential and round them up. Depending on their level of Talent, they were either sent to Rosenkreuz, or were given a training course. Apparently, since Brad had such high potential, they were giving him the red carpet. Jim was younger then his partner by at least ten years, and his personality was a little more relaxed. Thomas said it was because he was immature, Jim said it was because he still had his priorities straight.
The train ride would be good five hours, and Brad spent the majority of it staring out the window, watching the scenery pass. For the first time in months he wasn't plagued by his double vision. He felt liberated.
Finally they arrived at Grand Central Station, and they stepped off, Brad's eyes wide as he took in the surroundings. The light snowfall which has been starting in DC was leaning on heavy here, and it gave the city a surreal feel. Thomas led him to the curb where a black limousine was waiting, which Brad took in with a bit of awe. All around him, Christmas was in the air, and the city seemed charged with the excitement that permeated the soul during the month leading up to Christmas. Colorful lights and wreaths were strung around, and the world didn't seem so dreary because of it. People hurried from place to place, wrapped up in their coats. The city here seemed alive, and Brad stood in wonder of it. DC had never been like this.
Well, it had, but things had changed since then. Brad suddenly felt himself grow a little melancholy. This Christmas would be the first without Nat, and without his parents.
"I have gifts for my parents!" Brad exclaimed suddenly. This priority becoming first.
"They'll be delivered."
"Can I go home?"
"Not this year. Remember? You decided to come with us."
"C'mon, kid. Let's get you settled in, and then we'll introduce you to the boss. What ya like to eat?" Jim interrupted his partner from any long speech he was about to go into.
"I like pizza!"
"Well, New York has some pretty good pizza."
"Okay!" Brad agreed energetically. Jim smiled at him as they all piled into the limousine. The child grinned to himself, feeling as if he were living the high life. The black stretch was extremely comfortable, and Brad tested the squishiness of the seats by bouncing up and down on them. He was so giddy! He was finally free of the future. Finally he settled down, content to watch the traffic outside his window. The car slowly inched its way by, and Brad felt apart of it, not like someone watching a movie. Finally, the limousine pulled in front of a high class apartment. Thomas and Jim piled out, Brad following behind them. The three entered the building, the bellhops carrying their luggage close behind. Brad looked around the large lobby, taking it all in. There were two elevators located at the back and a big desk placed between them. The floor was a white marble, columns of the same placed strategically throughout the bottom floor. There was a cigarette machine on the right, tucked into a side room where telephones were also located. Jim pressed a button and the elevator dinged, the doors opening slowly moments later. The party climbed in together, and Brad waited with barely contained excitement when the elevator finally chimed again on the the thirty-seventh floor. With a slight smile on his face. At 3712, they stopped, Thomas pulling out a key and inserting it into the lock. He turned it with a slight click, pushing the door open.
"Welcome to your new home."
End Chapter II heya! First, some of you might be wondering about Braddy's about face in attitude, and wanting to leave his parents so quickly. I had a talk with mami about it, and she agreed that if she was plagued by visions as badly as he was, she'd go, albeit a bit reluncantly. Also, this is Estet and Rosenkreuz we're dealing with, and Thomas is a telepath. I wouldn't put it past them to use a little mind pushing, would you? Anyway, I promise to work on GWL next! -.-; I've got six pages done. I'm just stuck in a tiny rut, so it make take a little while. I appologize! -K. Firefly
Chapter II
A man can learn to steal some thunder/ A man can learn to work some wonder/ And when the gauntlet's down, it's time/ to rise and climb the sky -Falcon in the Dive from The Scarlet Pimpernel
Brad's parents, when asked, would've said that Nathan's death had alone changed their son's personality. They would talk about how he had been an active boy once, very agreeable and charming, and if given more time, he'd surely become that way again.
Denial is often the same thing as hope.
It was a hot day in August, the humidity close to one hundred percent. It was the sort of weather where you felt you were living in a sponge, and breathing the wet air was hell. Most women hated to go outside on the basis that their hair would frizz up in seconds, and any hairstyle that they had worked on would be undone. Even without this excuse, most people agreed to stay inside on DC's August days. People outside were hurrying from place to place at the fastest the heat would allow them. Tour groups trudged along from museum to museum, only happy once they'd reached the cold recesses of the inside. Vendors set up along the street sold their water for as much as they think they could, and as long as they had an "Ice Cold" sign hanging up, they wouldn't have a problem. Obsessed joggers pounded along the dry hot sidewalks of the city, and the Mount Vernon trail was filled with its regulars.
Brad Crawford sat on one of the benches that surrounded the tidal basin. He was near the Lincoln Memorial, near a sign that said "Watch out for Low Branches." During the spring the Cherry Blossom trees that he now sat under were the most beautiful things in DC. The tidal basin was always crowded with people who wanted to come visit the blossoms; to take pictures of the palest pink flowers. Sometimes a light breeze would catch the petals, blowing them off the trees and creating a tiny blizzard. Children were always trying to catch the wayward petals, their laughter carrying through the groves. The time of the blossoms was always short, and by August, the trees were only dry things, their leaves the pale green that indicated they needed more water. Brad reached for one such leave now, plucking it neatly and crumpling it in his hand. The boy sighed. He was so tired of his parents. They didn't understand him.
For whatever reason, Brad hadn't told his parents about his future seeing abilities. When Nat was still around, the two had felt it was a monumental secret, something to keep between the two of them only. It had aided them in various ways, and they both felt it would lose something if others were to know about it. So, everytime Brad had gotten a little vision or premonition, he'd tell Nat immediately, and sometimes they would be able to make it to their advantage. Now it was only his secret, but telling it to his parents or to anyone, would be like breaking a promise he'd made with Nat. He couldn't do that.
Since Nat's death, his visions had started to come more frequently. It was to the point of being distracting. That's why he was sitting here now. There were few people traversing along here at this time of the day. When he was around others, he would randomly get a vision of something that would happen to them. He had no control over these visions and they had begun to assault him more and more. He had never looked forward to school before, and this year would be even worse. The thought of having to be privy to the future of all his classmates was disconcerting. Brad had begun to hate his visions. Not only were they distracting, but he often got visions of his immediate future, too. By the time he got to the thing he'd just seen, he felt like he was living his life in replay, except he didn't get to experience it the first time.
The sun had begun to set behind him, the trees casting dark shadows over him and the water. Brad sighed. His parents would start worrying if he didn't go home now. They had been on his back more since Nat's death, as if he couldn't go places by himself. They said they only worried for him. Brad wished they would leave him alone. Sighing again, the dark haired boy stood up. He brushed the crumbled leaf from his hand and shoved his hands in his pockets. School started in two weeks. Damnit.
* * * *
"Bradley! Where've you been?"
"I went for a walk. I told you that."
"That was four hours ago!"
"It was a long walk."
"Wash your hands for supper. Your father is going to have a talk to you after dinner."
"You shouldn't be angry. I said I was going for a walk," Brad responded hotly. He was tired of his parents bothering him. If he wanted to spend time by himself, then they should allow that!
Dinner was a very sullen event. It was eaten in silence, with his mother casting glances at him occasionally. Brad poked idly at the food, not interested in eating. He hadn't been interested in much lately. Everything he did reminded him of his best friend, so his solution was to not think. Even now, when he allowed his mind to wander, he found himself thinking about the last time Nat had been over. His mother had served the same meal-steak and peas. While his parents hadn't been watching, the two boys flicked the green spheres at one another. They did their best to hide their giggles, and his mom had asked more then once what was going on. The two answered with broad grins on their faces that nothing was up, and there was no reason for her to be suspicious. It had all ended when Brad has accidentally smacked his dad in the forehead with a pea.
Brad felt a hitch in his throat.
He wouldn't think about that. He wouldn't.
* * * *
"Son, it's time we had a talk about your behavior," Brad's father began. They were sitting in the living room, his dad in his favorite chair. He was leaning forward, rubbing his hands together. Brad watched passively, he had listened to the conversation in a vision at dinner. The boy sat back in his chair, nodding or shaking his head when his father said something that deserved an answer. When he was asked why he was behaving a certain way he answered with a shrug and a muttered "I dunno." He didn't want to talk to his parents about his mood. Finally, his father finished and he was free to go.
Brad placed his glasses on the bedside table, in the same place they had been before. His eyesight immediately blurred, and he lay down in his bed. There were no fireflies next to his bed on this night. Their season was over, and they were gone until next year. His fan was on high, spinning the model airplanes he had hanging from the ceiling in lazy circles. His room was immaculate. After Nat's death, stricken with grief, Brad had decided to clean his room. It was an act born of desperation, something to keep his mind off the present. It was his way of dealing with his grief, and by the time he was done, two trash bags were filled and his room was completely devoid of dust. Now he hung his clothes up accordingly, or neatly put them in the drawer after his mom folded them. He disposed of his dirty clothes in the hamper, no longer leaving them on the floor. When he worked on models, a task now devoid of joy and something that simply occupied his concentration, he was sure to clean them up. Before his room had been a wasteland of unused models and their parts. He felt a certain joy at keeping his room neat.
Gone, also, were any signs of Nat, except for a picture by his bedside which his blurry eyes were now focused on.
School started in two weeks. He would be a seventh grader, just starting middle school. He didn't want to go to middle school.
* * * *
"Hey, Four Eyes!" The call stopped Brad in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. He turned to look at a large kid, a malicious grin on his face. He had obviously decided to start the hierarchy first thing. That was fine.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me," The boy sneered. Brad walked towards him. He knew more taunting was supposed to take place, and like the good little victim he was supposed to snivel and allow himself to be picked on. Instead, he neared the boy and delivered a strong right jab, hitting the boy square in the nose. His taunter's eyes widened, and his hand immediately went to his face, blood pouring from his nose. He didn't want to go through the customary motions.
"You bastard!" He screamed, face going red and he launched himself at the boy. Brad sidestepped neatly, elbowing the boy in his back as he stumbled past.
"My name is Brad Crawford," He said, pushing the glasses up on his nose, "It would be wise to remember that."
* * * *
Brad sat slouched in his seat, watching the teachers lecture. His eyes processed everything moments after he'd already seen him in his mind.
"Mr. Crawford-"
"Lexington."
"I haven't asked-"
"You were to going say 'Where were the first shots of the Revolutionary war fired?"
"How-"
"You're that predictable," Brad responded shortly. As time passed, his visions had gotten to the point where he was seeing everything double- that was about to happen, and as it happened. This constant knowledge of the future had made Brad somewhat bitter. He also discovered it was easy to snub everyone around him. He was always one step ahead of them. He also felt he was one step closer to insanity. Things seemed so cluttered.
Brad shifted his gaze to the window. October sunlight filtered in, catching dust mites that danced briefly through the light. Brad concentrated on the mites. His vision tended to lesson, or at least become obvious when he narrowed down on something. He needed to get someone to help him. He couldn't deal with this.
The bell rang, and Brad pushed his seat back, joining the throng of kids in the hallway who hurried on their way home. Fellow classmates pulled and pushed their way past him, laughter echoing through the hallways. Girls grouped together, walking slowly as they talked and giggled about boys and other mundane things. Lockers slammed loudly as kids grabbed their books, shoving them in their backpacks as they proceeded to hurry on to their buses. Brad watched them all, feeling apart but not worse for it. All these people were lower then him.
He needed to get out of here.
* * * *
By Christmas, Brad was living completely in the future by at least a few seconds. He answered questions before teachers even realized they were going to ask them. He responded to his parents before they called for him. He was the best fighter at school because he always knew what his opponent was going to do, so not only was he ready to block or duck, but he already had a counter attack in mind. On December 16, it had gotten to the point that his parents knew something was very wrong, and they decided to take him to the hospital. So, on that cold December morning, the family piled into their Volvo and headed towards the military hospital, Walter Reed.
As his parents drove, Brad looked out he window, seeing the scenery pass first in his mind, and then as they actually drove by them. "It's snowing," Brad noted, a slight note of surprise in his voice. It was rare for snow in December in DC.
"No it's-" His father started, but abruptly cut off as small snowflakes swirled in the chilly wind, blown into this windshield. He and his wife shared a look, not saying anything. Brad lapsed again into silence, not noticing his parents unease.
But then, suddenly for the first time in months, his mind focused. It was a dizzying experience as he felt himself thrown back into what he had thought to be the past, but was really the present. Brad's eyes focused on a man standing in the middle of the road.
"Dad! Watch out!"
Brad's father responded quickly, throwing his foot down on the peddle, sending the car into a fishtail. Brad held on tightly to the arm rest attached to the door, his teeth clenched tightly. Suddenly the car straightened out and stopped mere inches from the man, who leaned forward with a grin on his face. His father started cursing and blowing his horn, and Brad turned when he heard a knocking on his window. He turned to see the face of a middle aged man smiling kindly back at him. Brad's father immediately locked the doors, but they were unlocked just as quickly, and the door was pulled open.
"Good morning, Mr. Bradley Crawford. We've been waiting for you."
"You have?"
"You're right on time," The man responded as way of answer. He held out his hand, "My name is Thomas Grueber, That's TOE-MAS. It's the German pronunciation," Thomas said, and Brad noted that he did speak with a slight accent. "I know what your problem is, and I know how to help you. There's a whole school filled with people like you. Would you like to come? We can help you keep your mind clear."
Brad shot a look to his parents. His mother was looking furtively back at him, her face pale, her breathing heavy. next to her, his father was kicking the door while pulling on the seat belt that wouldn't budge. He was cursing loudly at the man on the hood, and at Thomas. He warned them to let him out, to leave his son alone. Brad looked back at Thomas, remembering what it had been seconds before. If this man could help keep his mind clear...
"You can keep it away?"
"Keeping it away would be a pity. We can help you focus it, though. Use it to your advantage."
"Will I see my parents again?" Brad was suddenly anxious. This could be his break. To learn how to change his future, and to control his visions.
"Of course."
"Goddamnit! Leave my son alone!" Brad's father was throwing himself against the seat, his face red with fury.
"Don't worry, Mr. Crawford. We have everything under control. We'll be giving your son topnotch education, all expense paid. We'll also help him with his problem," Thomas explained, leaning across Brad and unbuckling his seat belt. As the child began to climb out of the car, his mother started screaming in strangled cries.
"Wait," Brad said, pulling away. He climbed back into the car and leaned forward into the front seat, grabbing his mom as best as he could from his position, kissing her on the cheek. Sobbing, she wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him into her chest. Brad stayed there for a moment, listening to the beating of his mothers heart. It was a familiar rhythm, one he had heard many many years ago, and the sound comforted him again. Finally, he pulled away.
"Don't leave, Bradley!" His mother made out brokenly, rivers of tears rushing down her face. Brad felt tears well in his own eyes as he turned to hug his father.
"Please reconsider, Bradley. There's so much left to do. Don't leave your mother and I...please...think of your future."
"I am, Dad. That's why I'm doing this. When I have it all worked out, I'll come back," Brad said quietly, with the gravity of one who had lived in another world for many months, only to come back and realized just how much he had changed.
"Are you ready?
Brad nodded, pulling himself away from his parents and slowly stepping out of the car.
"What about your clothes? Your stuff?" His mother's priorities came first, and twelve year old boys couldn't take care of themselves. Who would fold his clothes? Give him soup when he was sick?
"It's already been taken care of, Mrs. Crawford," The German said, the charismatic smile on his face. He gave a slight bow and turned away, Brad going with him. The one who had stopped the car caught up to them with long strides, and soon the trio was out of site. Mr. Crawford found he could unlock the car and unfasten his seat belt, and after completing that, he jumped from the car, his face red with grief and anger. His wife sat sobbing in the car.
"He never even looked back."
* * * *
"Why did you come with us?" The man who stopped the car looked over at Brad, "We could be perverts or something."
"You stopped the future," Brad said.
"Ne kid, even we can't do that," The man said with a chuckle.
"That's John Firth. He's a telekinetic. I'm sorry about his attitude, he's a little crude."
"You were being affected pretty badly, weren't you kid?"
"His mind is a wreck. We're going to have to help him build up a wall before sending him to Rosenkreuz. They'd rip him apart. We have to give them a call as soon as we get to New York, too."
"What's going on?"
"You have the potential to be one of the strongest precognitive that Rosenkreuz has seen in a long time. We're going to be taking you up to headquarters in New York. After Jim and I help you here, we'll send you to RosenKreuz"
"What's Rosenkreuz?"
"It's a school for kids like you-with a Talent. It's headed by an organization called Estet."
"You're life is going to change bit time from here on out," Jim interjected. Brad looked at him for a moment before turning back to Thomas.
"Thomas, is there such a thing as fate?"
"It depends."
"On what?"
"On you," Thomas replied amibiguosly.
* * * *
On the train ride up to New York, Brad learned that Jim and Thomas were recruiters. It was there job to find people who had potential and round them up. Depending on their level of Talent, they were either sent to Rosenkreuz, or were given a training course. Apparently, since Brad had such high potential, they were giving him the red carpet. Jim was younger then his partner by at least ten years, and his personality was a little more relaxed. Thomas said it was because he was immature, Jim said it was because he still had his priorities straight.
The train ride would be good five hours, and Brad spent the majority of it staring out the window, watching the scenery pass. For the first time in months he wasn't plagued by his double vision. He felt liberated.
Finally they arrived at Grand Central Station, and they stepped off, Brad's eyes wide as he took in the surroundings. The light snowfall which has been starting in DC was leaning on heavy here, and it gave the city a surreal feel. Thomas led him to the curb where a black limousine was waiting, which Brad took in with a bit of awe. All around him, Christmas was in the air, and the city seemed charged with the excitement that permeated the soul during the month leading up to Christmas. Colorful lights and wreaths were strung around, and the world didn't seem so dreary because of it. People hurried from place to place, wrapped up in their coats. The city here seemed alive, and Brad stood in wonder of it. DC had never been like this.
Well, it had, but things had changed since then. Brad suddenly felt himself grow a little melancholy. This Christmas would be the first without Nat, and without his parents.
"I have gifts for my parents!" Brad exclaimed suddenly. This priority becoming first.
"They'll be delivered."
"Can I go home?"
"Not this year. Remember? You decided to come with us."
"C'mon, kid. Let's get you settled in, and then we'll introduce you to the boss. What ya like to eat?" Jim interrupted his partner from any long speech he was about to go into.
"I like pizza!"
"Well, New York has some pretty good pizza."
"Okay!" Brad agreed energetically. Jim smiled at him as they all piled into the limousine. The child grinned to himself, feeling as if he were living the high life. The black stretch was extremely comfortable, and Brad tested the squishiness of the seats by bouncing up and down on them. He was so giddy! He was finally free of the future. Finally he settled down, content to watch the traffic outside his window. The car slowly inched its way by, and Brad felt apart of it, not like someone watching a movie. Finally, the limousine pulled in front of a high class apartment. Thomas and Jim piled out, Brad following behind them. The three entered the building, the bellhops carrying their luggage close behind. Brad looked around the large lobby, taking it all in. There were two elevators located at the back and a big desk placed between them. The floor was a white marble, columns of the same placed strategically throughout the bottom floor. There was a cigarette machine on the right, tucked into a side room where telephones were also located. Jim pressed a button and the elevator dinged, the doors opening slowly moments later. The party climbed in together, and Brad waited with barely contained excitement when the elevator finally chimed again on the the thirty-seventh floor. With a slight smile on his face. At 3712, they stopped, Thomas pulling out a key and inserting it into the lock. He turned it with a slight click, pushing the door open.
"Welcome to your new home."
End Chapter II heya! First, some of you might be wondering about Braddy's about face in attitude, and wanting to leave his parents so quickly. I had a talk with mami about it, and she agreed that if she was plagued by visions as badly as he was, she'd go, albeit a bit reluncantly. Also, this is Estet and Rosenkreuz we're dealing with, and Thomas is a telepath. I wouldn't put it past them to use a little mind pushing, would you? Anyway, I promise to work on GWL next! -.-; I've got six pages done. I'm just stuck in a tiny rut, so it make take a little while. I appologize! -K. Firefly