Cold water ran down his face as he rested his hands on the edge of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. His black hair fell deep into his face, the bangs covering his eyes, which lay deep and dark in their sockets. He was pale. The last weeks and months had left their mark on him. And yet each of them had been worth it. He curled his lips into a feral smile. No, the face in front of him did not hold any childlike features anymore.

Brad wiped the last drops off his face with a towel and put his glasses back on. He left the washing corner and walked through the dorm to his bed. His clothes were neatly folded on the coarse gray blanket. While he was buttoning his shirt, he heard a noise at the door. He turned his head and saw a girl with long, dark red hair standing in the door frame. He knew her fleetingly. She was one of the obscura, the awakeners of fear and darkness.
The girl nervously fingered the folds of her black dress. It amused him that one of her kind seemed to be afraid of him. Although probably not afraid of him, but rather of his position and influence.
"What do you want?" he finally helped her out.
"Vertigo is sending for you," she finally managed. "He's waiting for you at the main gate."

He nodded and dismissed her with a gesture. Vertigo. He was the real reason the girl was afraid of him. Brad was his well-known darling, his primus, his right-hand man. Nowadays more than ever. He and Ms. Nakamura had made a progress far beyond anything she had achieved with a Precog before. Instead of drooling on a bedside and reporting only on paper strips, he was able to track time stretches over several hours if they did not derive too much. Sometimes he even managed to catch a glimpse of things that lay far ahead in the future. Often these pictures were still vague, but his instructors were satisfied. Highly satisfied even. Since his Japanese became so good that she could teach him in her mother tongue, Ms. Nakamura sometimes even showed hints of a smile, though he might have been wrong about that.

There was, however, another reason Vertigo valued him so much. And that was exactly why he had been summoned to the gate right now.

"There must be a new delivery coming up," he said to himself. Apart from him, there were only three other boys in the barracks at the moment. They had been picked up for training early in the morning and had tried to be as quiet as possible in the process to avoid waking him. Nevertheless, he had heard them whispering to each other while they set up their beds at the far end of the row for the inspection. No one talked to him if it could be avoided. Brad welcomed that. Personal relationships were something that sooner or later led to problems in the camp. They made you vulnerable. He had not fought his way to the top of the food chain just to be overthrown by unnecessary emotions.

He met his instructor as ordered at the main gate, where he was waiting impatiently for the incoming transport.
"Ah, Bradley," the big man called cheerfully, showing a big grin. Ever since their first meeting, the big man's face had lost its deterrent effect on Brad. Even their difference in size them had shrunk, though Vertigo still towered over him by a head. "How nice of you to show up. I have good news."
"We're getting new recruits." Brad acted cool. It was not the first time they met here.
"Oh, you had to spoil my fun, hadn't you? Damn Precog! "Vertigo faked a boxing punch and Brad avoided him playfully. Then he stood next to his instructor, who put one of his huge paws on Brad's shoulder. The touch made Brad uncomfortable, but he did not show it. It was not advisable to annoy Vertigo, even when he was in such a good mood.

Engine noise was heard at last, and then the big barbed-wire double wings of the gate opened to let the transport in. He stopped right in front of the main house and two guards jumped off the back of the truck. They opened the back doors and a handful of children and teenagers got out. Most of them were already wearing the gray coveralls that all newcomers got. You had to earn the right to wear proper clothes later. There was one exception, though.
"My my, what do we have there?" Vertigo exulted and licked his lips. "Mm, a redhead. Pretty appetizing, right? What a nice, fancy color. Would be something new. Do you think he is a suitable candidate? "
"He looks like he's trouble," Brad retorted. And that was an exorbitant understatement. The red-haired boy did not just look like he was trouble. He had the word all but tattooed on his forehead.
"You're not far from the truth," Vertigo replied. "The rascal killed his entire snatching team. They all died in a fire. "
Brad frowned. "A pyromancer?"
Vertigo tapped his temple with two fingers. "Telepath. Unfortunately, we do not know much more about him. The file was destroyed in the fire as well. They found him in Berlin, but there are no more details. So let's take a look at the bunch. "

Brad stayed behind while Vertigo picked up the children. He watched as the newcomers moved in intimidated as they became aware of the giant instructor. Only the redhead still looked a little defiant. Brad was sure that would soon be history. Vertigo would keep an eye on him and everyone in the camp knew what that meant. Even the slightest mistake would cost the boy his head ... or worse.

The new one lasted until lunchtime. Brad had just sat down on one of the tables in the refectory when he heard the commotion at the counter where the food was served. In the middle of it the red-haired telepath. Brad did not understand what it was about, but probably the usual lousy quality of the food was the topic. If he looked at the gray-brown porridge on his plate, he could only agree with the little troublemaker. Nevertheless, the boy would have better kept his mouth shut, because now Vertigo had his big performance.

The giant instructor stepped up and addressed the boy. The redhead answered in a tone that made Brad smile involuntarily. He had to admit the brat had some courage. But throwing his plate next to Vertigo's feet was definitely less than clever. The plate broke with a loud crash and some of the unsavory glob sprayed on Vertigo's brightly polished boots.

A murmur went through the crowd followed by breathless silence. It was clear that everyone - even those who had been very busy with their meal – had their attention focused on the incident in the front of the room. The consequence was inevitable, because there was one thing that Vertigo hated more than lack of obedience. That thing was dirt on his shoes. He glared at the redheaded boy and hissed something menacingly. Then he beckoned two uniformed guards, who took the unfortunate boy into custody and carried him away.

Vertigo straightened up and looked around. Countless heads jerked around and immediately the usual noise of many spoons on already scratched plates filled the room again. Vertigos and Brad's eyes met over the many bent down heads. The instructor lifted his chin and Brad lowered his eyes obediently. He knew what he would have to do in the evening.