Psion stared at them both as if someone had backhand slapped him. Had he taken the gloves off? So blind had been his rage that the only thing he remembered was the horrified look on Hassan's face, the inordinate pleasure he took from it, and the resulting pain of, he could only assume, being shot repeatedly.
"You're pulling my leg." The simultaneous slow shakes of their heads told him they weren't. A slow grin that was decidedly feral stretched slowly across Psion's face. He knew in that moment that Hassan's fate had been sealed. "What time is it?"
"Its," Shift looked around but Swan answered, looking up from her watch, "Eleven thirty in the a.m. Why?"
"I think its time for me to pay a visit with our esteemed Mr. Hassan." Swan and shift exchanged nervous looking grins. "I'll meet you guys in the hall in a few minutes." Shift left with Swan floating along behind him. When the door clicked shut, Psion began the process that was intuitive by now, searching through his psyche for the kernel that would be Hassan. It took longer than he anticipated, but when he'd finally latched onto it he almost emptied his stomach, which was something to be said since he hadn't vomited for over ten years. It was like a rank stench, that part of Hassan's soul. Surely this man wasn't that revolting, was he? The memories present assured Psion that he was. The crystal clear image of a family, spitted alive with the bottom of the spike buried in the ground forcing the humans into a crude imitation of a hand puppet, burned against his minds eyes as he, for a split second, was Hassan. Mounted on a sleek black Spanish Arabian, resplendent in the same outfit Psion had seen.
"Leave them for the ravens." Turning the horse, he cantered away with his men. Psion shuddered and continued searching for that piece of Hassan that was inhibiting the mutants within the mansion. From the outside looking in, an observer would have seen the blank expression turn to a very triumphant smile that even carried to his eyes. They would have seen the half-naked man hop out of bed, hurry over to the wardrobe, get dressed, and disappear in a puff of dark blue smoke and a whiff of brimstone.
Psion reappeared outside in the hall, causing Shift and Swan to nearly suffer from cardiac arrest, "Is Hassan in his office?"
Shift recovered first, grabbing Swan's wrist and looking at the watch dial, "He'll be in the dining room." Something like a light bulb suddenly went off in both of their faces then.
"My powers…all of them…they're…"
"…Free" Shift finished for her breathlessly.
"I've extended a bubble of sorts that negates Hassan's inhibition field. Right now, its local, so you two should be feeling a lot better I'd suspect."
Swan flexed her fingers, "My strength is back."
"And I could hold my shape for as long as I wanted now."
"Good, take my hands," Psion said. Holding them out to them they clutched them like a life raft in stormy waters. "Hold on."
The sound of displaced air echoed in the hall outside the dining room and before the droids had even moved, Swan had crushed the head of one with the heel of her hand and Psion had split the second from crown to crotch with his newly reacquired blade. They three fell silent, listening, but nothing changed in the dining room so for all they could tell, they were still undetected. Psion reached out, unobtrusively sweeping through the minds of the room and confirmed it.
"They don't know we're here. Follow my lead." He leaned back and kicked hard, splintering the door frame as the door swung open hard and crashed into the wall behind it. Silence reigned after the startled sounds of dropped utensils and scraping chairs had ceased. Psion stepped casually into the room, followed by Shift and a floating Swan who soared closer to the ceiling once she'd cleared the doorframe. Psion fixed his gaze on Hassan and slowly spread his control across the room. There were gasps and shudders as powers long dormant and forgotten in some of the older mutants were suddenly reawakened. Many of the older, graying men, suddenly looked younger and more vital. There was a great flexing of fingers as old strengths returned. Psion ignored it, having eyes only for the gradually widening lids of Hassan's until he could see white all around the pupil.
"Hello Hassan. Did we interrupt?" There was a soft hiss of sharply drawn breath as Hassan practically leapt from his chair. "Oh no, don't get up on my account." Psion forced Hassan back into his chair with a firm telekinetic hand.
"Destroy them!" Droids came nearly out of the woodwork, but Psion lashed out with an EMP that dropped them in place. Hassan snarled and growled for the mutants around the table to attack. The handful that obeyed sprinted from the table toward the three of them and before they had cleared the end of it, ran hard into an invisible wall. Psion heard Shift giggle beside him and smiled with him.
"You're going to have to do better than that, Hassan." Psion said as he walked casually to the end of the table, leaving the subdual of the stunned mutants to Shift and Swan's capable hands. He hopped onto the table and walked down its length toward Hassan, whose lividity was growing by the second. He squatted in front of the man and brought the razor thin edge of the vivid pink blade of psionic energy within a millimeter of Hassan's neck. "It seems like not all of us were as loyal as you thought."
Hassan looked over Psion's shoulder at the scant number of mutants, most of them older than Psion, who had noticed as he walked down the table length that all of the older, so-called complacent, mutants had either remained at their place, standing, or retaken their seat with eyes watching everything. Swan floated over to hover near Psion's right shoulder while Shift stood over the bound mutants with a hand that had morphed into an excessively wicked looking blade.
"So, how does it feel to be beaten at your own game?"
Hassan remained silent.
"What's the matter, Hassan? Centuries, millennia even, of knowing nothing but victory didn't prepare you for me. Did it."
Hassan again remained silent but the sheer hatred bubbling through his eyes told him he'd struck a nerve. He scrapped the edge of the blade along Hassan's carefully groomed goatee and shaved a sizeable chunk off, "No one ever told you that you learn more by losing than you ever do by winning."
"What do you want?" The controlled simmer in his voice didn't stop the spittle of rage that foamed out of Hassan's mouth. His shoulders were shaking with that same suppressed rage and Psion could sense that Hassan wanted nothing more than to reach across the distance and brutally savage him. It gave Psion an unnatural sense of joy.
"I am walking out of here. And you can either watch me do it alive, or dead. Shift and Swan are going to come with me, and anyone else who wants to leave will too. I would like to avoid loss of life today, Hassan, but I am not above killing. That neat little file of yours should tell you that. And nothing would please me more than destroying you right here and right now after all the horror you have brought to those around you for your own selfish and power hungry gains. Not to mention the gruesome killings you performed just to satisfy your sadism. I would kill you just for that innocent family you left for the ravens, spitted like a human hand puppet, but I am not utterly lacking of compassion."
Fire raged through Hassan's eyes and Psion pressed the blade closer, watching a small rivulet of blood leak down the pale white neck, "Just give me one reason, Hassan."
The body relaxed with defeat, but the fire didn't recede as, through gritted teeth, Hassan spoke in a raspy voice. "You're all free to go."
Psion glanced back over his shoulder and watched the mass exodus of mutants as they crossed the distance from the table to the door and disappeared into the hall. He looked back into Hassan's violent eyes, "Sorry to be such a home wrecker." He hopped off the table and gripping the back of Hassan's head, smashed his face into the edge of the table. He recognized the blank calm that meant Hassan had fallen unconscious and released his hold on him telekinetically leaving him to fall into a boneless lump onto the floor.
"You both should get out of here."
"What?"
"Why?"
"Because you're free and Hassan and I have unfinished business when he comes to. Go." When they both hesitated, he snarled and lashed out, "NOW!" Something in his soul cracked at the looks of sadness and fear that flitted across their faces but held firm with the look he fixed them both with. They stumbled backwards and fled before that look. With a deep sigh of revulsion for himself, he went over to the heavy curtains and pulled them down, untying the sashes and carrying them with him back to the table. Propping Hassan back in the chair, he bound him hand and foot to the armrests and legs respectively. He went to the kitchen, looking for something flammable, and managed to find a bottle of wine. He carried it out of the kitchen, popping the cork as he went, and took a long swig. It wasn't bad, it was a shame he was about to waste it. He poured most of it on Hassan's lap, the memories he'd taken from Hassan told him of the inflated opinion he had for his skill in bed, then sprinkled the rest of it on the rest of his clothes, hair, and face. He pulled the group of loyal mutants, bound, over nearby and hopped a squat on the table in front of Hassan. He sped Hassan's awakening by stimulating his mind and greeted his groggy consciousness with a lit match. Hassan began to move, writhing in the chair and jerking against the tightly bound curtain sashes.
"You said you weren't going to take lives today!" He shrieked, for the first time his cool composure broken in years.
"I lied." He flicked the lit match into Hassan's lap and without a backward glance strode out of the room as it erupted in flame. The animal screams reached his ears as he made his way out of the mansion. He didn't smile, didn't feel sorry for him, didn't feel anything as he pushed the front door of the mansion open. There was the sound of breaking glass and he glanced in its direction. The windows of the dining room had broken, blown out and belching black smoke and bright orange flames into the bright light of a noonday sun.
