A/N: Yes, to anyone who was wondering, Sam is male. I'm sorry if I didn't
make that clear earlier. If there are any other points of confusion in the
following chapters(and there probably will be), please let me know. This
chapter explains a lot, and it's going to be thrown at you kind of fast, so
yeah, let me know about confusion points.
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to go," Sam sighed in contentment as he leaned back in his seat.
"Indeed," Peter concurred, "I really should be starting on my homework."
Fred, Sam, and Mary looked at Peter in shock and he admitted, "Okay, maybe not homework, but I do have a speech to write."
"For what?" Fred inquired.
"For when I take over the world," Peter replied seriously as he sauntered out of the room.
"I should have known better than to ask," Fred shook his head in mock despair. He was about to follow his friends out of room 101 when Mr. Bigin's voice called out to him, "Fred, could I speak with you for a moment?"
The bright-eyed teenager smiled, "Of course." He turned back to his friends and told them not to wait up before taking a seat across from the elderly teacher. Mr. Bigin smiled encouragingly as he waited for Fred to become comfortable, his fingers locked together as he watched the young student stare curiously back at him. The expression on Fred's face was so innocent, so openly curious, and for a moment the retired teacher yet again regretted what he was about to do. He wished that Gene was there for support, but no, she refused to interfere in his responsibility.
"Fred, do you believe in fate?" Bob Bigin asked quietly, after he had let a silence settle in between him and his heir.
The teenager was surprised at this question, a mildly shocked expression caused his blue eyes to widen slightly, but he answered without hesitation, "As a matter of fact I do."
Bob nodded, as if expecting that answer, and reached into his desk drawer. He didn't have to peer inside the darkness of that cedar wood drawer, his hand easily found the box that he had been carrying for over half a century. Even now, he caressed it, stroking the worn leather encasement as if to reassure himself that his guarded possession hadn't been damaged.
"It's interesting that you should say that Fred," he continued in the same soft manner, "It will also be interesting to see if that opinion changes throughout the hopefully long years of your life. As for myself, despite all my experience and the long years of MY life, I still am utterly clueless."
Fred's eyes narrowed in confusion and he bit his lip, feeling the first touches of anxiety slither uncomfortably in him. The young student became suddenly aware of the tremendous amount of years separating him and his former teacher, and of the look of exhaustion present of Mr. Bigin's face that hadn't been there before.
"There is something you must do for me," Bob stated carefully, as he reluctantly pushed the small leather box toward Fred. Why was he so reluctant about doing this? He could fool himself and say that he was reluctant because of the effect this new responsibility would have on Fred. But no, he could yet feel the familiar yearning in him, the desire to open the box and have a final glimpse of the Key. Even now, his fingers began to twitch in expectation and he had to hide them under the desk, lest Fred should notice.
"What can I do?" Fred asked, a true desire to help shining clearly in his expression. He looked at Bob then at the box that was being pushed in his direction then back to his former teacher.
"You must watch this for me, now. I no longer have the strength to keep it, and so I wish for you to take it under your care."
"What is it?" Fred inquired warily, looking cautiously at the box.
A burden. . .
Bob replied instead, "Open it and see. But-" the sharp note in Bob's voice caused the young student to hesitate, "You must open it only this once."
Fred looked astonished at this remark, the coldness in Bob's expression sent a faint chill down his spine, but he nodded his consent and slowly opened the lid of the box. Inside, there was a gleaming silver key, shaped very much like a common house key. A dull throbbing hit the air the moment the box was open, and Fred gasped from the shock of it. The combination of sight and sound created a sweetness in Fred's mind that he had never known. Instinctively, he reached out to grasp the shiny metal, but the box was snapped shut.
"Do you see?" Bob questioned, "Do you see why the Key must remain enclosed? You could waste away your life on so simple a thing. . ."
"I do," Fred replied, his eyes searching for answers to so many questions that he had, "But why are you giving it to me? What does it do? I don't understand-"
"All your questions will be answered by Gene," Bob interrupted smoothly, and Fred jumped in surprise as the slender woman laid a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even heard her enter.
"It is done," Bob addressed Gene, his voice filled with an emotion Fred could not yet comprehend, "The Key is in Fred's care."
"You knew about this too?" Fred questioned Miss Grey, but she ignored him.
"You did well my friend," Gene smiled comfortingly even as her words carried the dramatic edge of finality, "Please, go enjoy the rest of your life."
Bob Bigin was swayed by the relaxing voice, the friendly look, and he silently got up, clasped Fred once on the shoulder, and left the room without a backward glance. Gene watched him leave, her eyes focused on every move he made, in case he had been seduced by the Key and made an attempt to reclaim it, but Bob committed no such action. After Fred and Gene heard the footsteps of leather shoes descending down the stairs, the mysterious teacher hurriedly closed the door and took a seat at the desk that Bob had been sitting in moments before.
"Now will I have some questions answered?" Fred demanded, anxiety making him slightly impatient.
"Some, not all," Gene answered coolly, "I will gladly share whatever information I have about the object which you now guard, but I will admit I do not know everything. Some of my answers you will understand, some of them you will not, and eventually I'm sure you will develop your own theories and opinions, and disregard what I have to say."
Fred wasn't sure he even knew what THAT meant, but he waited, once again patient, for Gene to explain. She rummaged through a black cloth bag at her side and pulled out a glossy photo of a middle-aged bald man, with a tuft of yellow hair and wet brown eyes. The man had a smirk on his face, and he was wearing an expensive suit while sitting at a large mahogany desk.
"Do you know who this is?" Gene inquired casually.
"Yes, everyone knows who that is," Fred replied bluntly, wondering what this photo had to do with anything, "That's Mr. Smith( Yeah, a little Matrix-like I know, but it fits way too well), the leading business and political figure in Mordoria. Many people believe he's the richest man alive."
"That's right," Gene asserted, and she next pulled out a big stack of papers and pushed them across the desk, "Back in 1908, Smith started a company dealing with medical technology, particularly in brain treatment. He became exceedingly wealthy, and he recently was able to buy the city of New Orleans and rename it Mordoria."
"I know this," Fred stated, feeling his head begin to spin as he looked a various reports and statistics, "What does this have to with anything?"
"I'm getting to that part," Gene smiled, to a certain degree amused at his enthusiasm, "Anyway, what has never been disclosed to the public is that a couple of years after he started his experiments, we believe around the time of 1914, Smith made remarkable discoveries in the area of telepathy and brain waves. He eventually discovered the technology for mind control. His ambitions at this point exceeded beyond being wealthy and having influence. He wanted to control the intellectual faculties of every single man, woman, and child on the planet and he had the means to do so."
Fred's mouth dropped and his eyes widened even further, "So what happened? Why isn't he in control now? Is he still planning to try?"
Gene grinned and leaned back in her chair, a small smile tightening at the corners of her mouth, "Yes, Fred, he was stopped. A band of people who discovered Smith's plot were able to sneak into his building, take the mind control device and all the plans he had spent years constructing, and lock them into a safe that can only be opened by a certain, unique key."
"My key," Fred finished for her.
"Indeed," Gene said, and her voice suddenly became grave, "However, the people who preformed this mission were unable to escape with the safe. Only one of the team even made it back to base with the Key, everyone else perished in the attempt."
"So the safe is still in the possession of Smith?" Fred surmised.
Gene nodded and Fred asked, "Well, if Smith was able to do make the device the first time, why doesn't he just make another mind control machine?"
"His energies have been concentrated elsewhere," Gene answered simply.
"Like. . .what?"
"Immortality," yet again a simply, yet confusing answer. Seeing Fred's confused face, she elaborated, "The year the mind control device was locked into the safe the Order(the group of people who oppose Smith) estimates that Smith was in his late sixties and nearing the end of his natural life. He did not have time left to start over from scratch, no without tasting mortality, so he spent his efforts reversing the aging process. He was mildly successful, but it is still a process that requires all of his time. In the photo I showed you," Gene motioned again to the glossy photo of Smith, "he may look to be in his late forties. . .but I assure you, he is more than 150 years old."
Fred could not even find the language to formulate his next question. His stunned brain would not allow him to process any information. He felt helplessness swelling in his heart and he feared he might physically choke on his own misgivings. He desperately needed. . .something, reassurance maybe, and he looked pleadingly at Gene.
"How could you let this responsibility come to me? I don't know anything. . .this is too big for me," Fred knew his voice came out in a whimper, but he couldn't help it. His parched throat wouldn't allow for clearer vocalization.
"You were chosen," Gene responded and she leaned over and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Do not be afraid Fred. It is a big responsibility, know that, but it is not as burdensome as you think. You will be able to lead a relatively normal life, I can almost promise you. Be who you thought you were meant to be, just be this guardian too. Look at Bob. He enjoyed a stable career, started a family, drove a car. . .all these things are still available to you. You just have one additional thing to look after."
Fred felt cool relief sweep over him as he realized Gene's words made sense. He looked up to her and smiled gratefully, "Will you help me?"
A large grin spread across her face and she nodded, "Of course! What else would I be here for?"
Suddenly, the pair heard a loud bang out the door and the hand that had rested on his shoulder tightened as Gene's expression grew troubled. Fred didn't have a clue what lead to this violent mood swing, but he felt panic begin to arise in him anew. She motioned for him to take cover, and he obeyed as Gene stalked to the door, the thin metal rod raised threateningly. The young woman swung the door open and Fred saw her disappear outside. He heard a struggle ensue, and just as he was wondering whether or not he should go assist Gene, his mentor returned with Sam Grainwise in tow.
She tossed the scared teenager into a seat and slammed her hands on the desk.
"What were you doing outside that door?" she demanded angrily, ignoring the petrified look on Sam's face. Fred felt he should comfort his friend, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he allowed Gene to interrogate Sam.
"I-I- was c-coming back to the room t-to see if I had l-left my s-spiral here," Sam replied swiftly, but his downcast expression reveled what a horrible liar the older boy was.
"Bullshit!" Gene exclaimed causing both teenagers to stare at her, taken aback.
"I was!" Sam replied defensively, "but then I heard you and Fred talking. I heard all the stuff you guys were talking about and. . ." he trailed off, unable to continue.
"Damn it," Gene swore as she ran her fingers through her thick black hair. She got up and turned to face the window, beginning to pace in front of the two teenagers and muttering to herself every once in awhile, as if debating something. Fred and Sam watched her, fidgeting in their chairs.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," she announced once she came to a conclusion, "Fred, this weekend you need to take the Key to the town of Brecia, it's a suburb about fifty miles or so from here. The Key has been idle too long in one spot, occasionally you have to move it to a new location temporarily to throw off any minion of Smith that might be looking for it."
Fred opened his mouth to object but Gene interrupted, "I don't care how you do it. Steal a car if you have to, bum a ride, take public transportation, just make sure you get there. As for you, Mr. Grainwise. . .you'll be accompanying the new Key bearer. I'll meet you both there later in the weekend, don't look for me, I'll find you."
With that Gene grabbed her cloth bag and prepared to leave. She looked up when she realized the two young people hadn't moved and were just staring at her.
"Are we not clear?"
"Where are you going?" Fred demanded, feeling abandoned as he watched her get ready to depart.
"I'm off to see the head of the Order, to inform him about Mr. Bigin's heir," she replied smoothly, "I'm sorry I can't go with you, but I'm sure my leader is most curious about what has taken place tonight," she paused, realizing she sounded a bit harsh and continued softly, "You'll do fine you guys, and try to enjoy yourselves. Brecia is an interesting place."
At this point her hand was on the doorknob and she turned around slightly, "By the way you two, welcome to the Order."
And then she was gone.
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to go," Sam sighed in contentment as he leaned back in his seat.
"Indeed," Peter concurred, "I really should be starting on my homework."
Fred, Sam, and Mary looked at Peter in shock and he admitted, "Okay, maybe not homework, but I do have a speech to write."
"For what?" Fred inquired.
"For when I take over the world," Peter replied seriously as he sauntered out of the room.
"I should have known better than to ask," Fred shook his head in mock despair. He was about to follow his friends out of room 101 when Mr. Bigin's voice called out to him, "Fred, could I speak with you for a moment?"
The bright-eyed teenager smiled, "Of course." He turned back to his friends and told them not to wait up before taking a seat across from the elderly teacher. Mr. Bigin smiled encouragingly as he waited for Fred to become comfortable, his fingers locked together as he watched the young student stare curiously back at him. The expression on Fred's face was so innocent, so openly curious, and for a moment the retired teacher yet again regretted what he was about to do. He wished that Gene was there for support, but no, she refused to interfere in his responsibility.
"Fred, do you believe in fate?" Bob Bigin asked quietly, after he had let a silence settle in between him and his heir.
The teenager was surprised at this question, a mildly shocked expression caused his blue eyes to widen slightly, but he answered without hesitation, "As a matter of fact I do."
Bob nodded, as if expecting that answer, and reached into his desk drawer. He didn't have to peer inside the darkness of that cedar wood drawer, his hand easily found the box that he had been carrying for over half a century. Even now, he caressed it, stroking the worn leather encasement as if to reassure himself that his guarded possession hadn't been damaged.
"It's interesting that you should say that Fred," he continued in the same soft manner, "It will also be interesting to see if that opinion changes throughout the hopefully long years of your life. As for myself, despite all my experience and the long years of MY life, I still am utterly clueless."
Fred's eyes narrowed in confusion and he bit his lip, feeling the first touches of anxiety slither uncomfortably in him. The young student became suddenly aware of the tremendous amount of years separating him and his former teacher, and of the look of exhaustion present of Mr. Bigin's face that hadn't been there before.
"There is something you must do for me," Bob stated carefully, as he reluctantly pushed the small leather box toward Fred. Why was he so reluctant about doing this? He could fool himself and say that he was reluctant because of the effect this new responsibility would have on Fred. But no, he could yet feel the familiar yearning in him, the desire to open the box and have a final glimpse of the Key. Even now, his fingers began to twitch in expectation and he had to hide them under the desk, lest Fred should notice.
"What can I do?" Fred asked, a true desire to help shining clearly in his expression. He looked at Bob then at the box that was being pushed in his direction then back to his former teacher.
"You must watch this for me, now. I no longer have the strength to keep it, and so I wish for you to take it under your care."
"What is it?" Fred inquired warily, looking cautiously at the box.
A burden. . .
Bob replied instead, "Open it and see. But-" the sharp note in Bob's voice caused the young student to hesitate, "You must open it only this once."
Fred looked astonished at this remark, the coldness in Bob's expression sent a faint chill down his spine, but he nodded his consent and slowly opened the lid of the box. Inside, there was a gleaming silver key, shaped very much like a common house key. A dull throbbing hit the air the moment the box was open, and Fred gasped from the shock of it. The combination of sight and sound created a sweetness in Fred's mind that he had never known. Instinctively, he reached out to grasp the shiny metal, but the box was snapped shut.
"Do you see?" Bob questioned, "Do you see why the Key must remain enclosed? You could waste away your life on so simple a thing. . ."
"I do," Fred replied, his eyes searching for answers to so many questions that he had, "But why are you giving it to me? What does it do? I don't understand-"
"All your questions will be answered by Gene," Bob interrupted smoothly, and Fred jumped in surprise as the slender woman laid a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even heard her enter.
"It is done," Bob addressed Gene, his voice filled with an emotion Fred could not yet comprehend, "The Key is in Fred's care."
"You knew about this too?" Fred questioned Miss Grey, but she ignored him.
"You did well my friend," Gene smiled comfortingly even as her words carried the dramatic edge of finality, "Please, go enjoy the rest of your life."
Bob Bigin was swayed by the relaxing voice, the friendly look, and he silently got up, clasped Fred once on the shoulder, and left the room without a backward glance. Gene watched him leave, her eyes focused on every move he made, in case he had been seduced by the Key and made an attempt to reclaim it, but Bob committed no such action. After Fred and Gene heard the footsteps of leather shoes descending down the stairs, the mysterious teacher hurriedly closed the door and took a seat at the desk that Bob had been sitting in moments before.
"Now will I have some questions answered?" Fred demanded, anxiety making him slightly impatient.
"Some, not all," Gene answered coolly, "I will gladly share whatever information I have about the object which you now guard, but I will admit I do not know everything. Some of my answers you will understand, some of them you will not, and eventually I'm sure you will develop your own theories and opinions, and disregard what I have to say."
Fred wasn't sure he even knew what THAT meant, but he waited, once again patient, for Gene to explain. She rummaged through a black cloth bag at her side and pulled out a glossy photo of a middle-aged bald man, with a tuft of yellow hair and wet brown eyes. The man had a smirk on his face, and he was wearing an expensive suit while sitting at a large mahogany desk.
"Do you know who this is?" Gene inquired casually.
"Yes, everyone knows who that is," Fred replied bluntly, wondering what this photo had to do with anything, "That's Mr. Smith( Yeah, a little Matrix-like I know, but it fits way too well), the leading business and political figure in Mordoria. Many people believe he's the richest man alive."
"That's right," Gene asserted, and she next pulled out a big stack of papers and pushed them across the desk, "Back in 1908, Smith started a company dealing with medical technology, particularly in brain treatment. He became exceedingly wealthy, and he recently was able to buy the city of New Orleans and rename it Mordoria."
"I know this," Fred stated, feeling his head begin to spin as he looked a various reports and statistics, "What does this have to with anything?"
"I'm getting to that part," Gene smiled, to a certain degree amused at his enthusiasm, "Anyway, what has never been disclosed to the public is that a couple of years after he started his experiments, we believe around the time of 1914, Smith made remarkable discoveries in the area of telepathy and brain waves. He eventually discovered the technology for mind control. His ambitions at this point exceeded beyond being wealthy and having influence. He wanted to control the intellectual faculties of every single man, woman, and child on the planet and he had the means to do so."
Fred's mouth dropped and his eyes widened even further, "So what happened? Why isn't he in control now? Is he still planning to try?"
Gene grinned and leaned back in her chair, a small smile tightening at the corners of her mouth, "Yes, Fred, he was stopped. A band of people who discovered Smith's plot were able to sneak into his building, take the mind control device and all the plans he had spent years constructing, and lock them into a safe that can only be opened by a certain, unique key."
"My key," Fred finished for her.
"Indeed," Gene said, and her voice suddenly became grave, "However, the people who preformed this mission were unable to escape with the safe. Only one of the team even made it back to base with the Key, everyone else perished in the attempt."
"So the safe is still in the possession of Smith?" Fred surmised.
Gene nodded and Fred asked, "Well, if Smith was able to do make the device the first time, why doesn't he just make another mind control machine?"
"His energies have been concentrated elsewhere," Gene answered simply.
"Like. . .what?"
"Immortality," yet again a simply, yet confusing answer. Seeing Fred's confused face, she elaborated, "The year the mind control device was locked into the safe the Order(the group of people who oppose Smith) estimates that Smith was in his late sixties and nearing the end of his natural life. He did not have time left to start over from scratch, no without tasting mortality, so he spent his efforts reversing the aging process. He was mildly successful, but it is still a process that requires all of his time. In the photo I showed you," Gene motioned again to the glossy photo of Smith, "he may look to be in his late forties. . .but I assure you, he is more than 150 years old."
Fred could not even find the language to formulate his next question. His stunned brain would not allow him to process any information. He felt helplessness swelling in his heart and he feared he might physically choke on his own misgivings. He desperately needed. . .something, reassurance maybe, and he looked pleadingly at Gene.
"How could you let this responsibility come to me? I don't know anything. . .this is too big for me," Fred knew his voice came out in a whimper, but he couldn't help it. His parched throat wouldn't allow for clearer vocalization.
"You were chosen," Gene responded and she leaned over and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Do not be afraid Fred. It is a big responsibility, know that, but it is not as burdensome as you think. You will be able to lead a relatively normal life, I can almost promise you. Be who you thought you were meant to be, just be this guardian too. Look at Bob. He enjoyed a stable career, started a family, drove a car. . .all these things are still available to you. You just have one additional thing to look after."
Fred felt cool relief sweep over him as he realized Gene's words made sense. He looked up to her and smiled gratefully, "Will you help me?"
A large grin spread across her face and she nodded, "Of course! What else would I be here for?"
Suddenly, the pair heard a loud bang out the door and the hand that had rested on his shoulder tightened as Gene's expression grew troubled. Fred didn't have a clue what lead to this violent mood swing, but he felt panic begin to arise in him anew. She motioned for him to take cover, and he obeyed as Gene stalked to the door, the thin metal rod raised threateningly. The young woman swung the door open and Fred saw her disappear outside. He heard a struggle ensue, and just as he was wondering whether or not he should go assist Gene, his mentor returned with Sam Grainwise in tow.
She tossed the scared teenager into a seat and slammed her hands on the desk.
"What were you doing outside that door?" she demanded angrily, ignoring the petrified look on Sam's face. Fred felt he should comfort his friend, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he allowed Gene to interrogate Sam.
"I-I- was c-coming back to the room t-to see if I had l-left my s-spiral here," Sam replied swiftly, but his downcast expression reveled what a horrible liar the older boy was.
"Bullshit!" Gene exclaimed causing both teenagers to stare at her, taken aback.
"I was!" Sam replied defensively, "but then I heard you and Fred talking. I heard all the stuff you guys were talking about and. . ." he trailed off, unable to continue.
"Damn it," Gene swore as she ran her fingers through her thick black hair. She got up and turned to face the window, beginning to pace in front of the two teenagers and muttering to herself every once in awhile, as if debating something. Fred and Sam watched her, fidgeting in their chairs.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," she announced once she came to a conclusion, "Fred, this weekend you need to take the Key to the town of Brecia, it's a suburb about fifty miles or so from here. The Key has been idle too long in one spot, occasionally you have to move it to a new location temporarily to throw off any minion of Smith that might be looking for it."
Fred opened his mouth to object but Gene interrupted, "I don't care how you do it. Steal a car if you have to, bum a ride, take public transportation, just make sure you get there. As for you, Mr. Grainwise. . .you'll be accompanying the new Key bearer. I'll meet you both there later in the weekend, don't look for me, I'll find you."
With that Gene grabbed her cloth bag and prepared to leave. She looked up when she realized the two young people hadn't moved and were just staring at her.
"Are we not clear?"
"Where are you going?" Fred demanded, feeling abandoned as he watched her get ready to depart.
"I'm off to see the head of the Order, to inform him about Mr. Bigin's heir," she replied smoothly, "I'm sorry I can't go with you, but I'm sure my leader is most curious about what has taken place tonight," she paused, realizing she sounded a bit harsh and continued softly, "You'll do fine you guys, and try to enjoy yourselves. Brecia is an interesting place."
At this point her hand was on the doorknob and she turned around slightly, "By the way you two, welcome to the Order."
And then she was gone.