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I See What You Did There (IC) (GM)


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Duncan Summers was unavailable the weekend after junior prom, calls going to his voice mail and emails getting the "I am Out Of The Office" auto-reply, letting the accumulated messages about the prom pile up there until Monday. Late that afternoon, without any prompting, an email from him arrived in Mike Harris' in-box, along with a phone call on his machine in the room he shared with Mark Lucas. "Mr. Harris: Please come to my office at your earliest convenience so we can discuss the events of this weekend. Yrs, Duncan Summers."

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Mike couldn't say he was surprised by the call or e-mail. In all honesty he had expected it to come sooner. When it did come he of course was no more happy about it than if it had been a surprise. He quickly got dressed and slipped out of the room as quietly as he could not wanting to wake Mark, the events at Prom had seemed to wear him out he didn't even manage to make it back to the room that night.

He crossed the campus at a normal if slightly hurried rate and took the elevator up to the Headmasters office with a grim countenance. He offered a weak smile to Mr. Summers secretary as he inquired, "Is Mr. Summers available?" She nodded kindly , "He's been expecting you." and opened the door to let the tall youth in.

Mike Stepped through the door into the room and waited for the door to click shut before he spoke, "You wanted to see me Mr. Summers?"

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"I did," agreed Duncan Summers. The old man's lined face was a mask, making him look vaguely like a cigar-store Indian in a very nice suit. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what happened at the junior prom, Mr. Harris?" He seemed like he was being polite, even courteous, but it was always difficult to tell exactly what the Old Man had on his mind. "Assume that I am familiar with all your fellow students."

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Mike nodded with a small sigh and sunk into one of the chairs opposite the headmasters desk. "I'm going to assume you mean the near catastrophic events after the King and Queen announcement. Before that everything was fine." he said plainly, "Someone used the projector to show off a rather lewd recording of Zoe and James." he said his voice tight, "I know enough to suspect who was responsible but that doesn't really matter." he added without bitterness the absurd war James and Joe had felt they were in with Daisy didn't need to continue and if rising above was losing then so be it.

"Several of us were very upset by the revelations of that tape and a couple of us, myself included, did not react reasonably." he finished simply not wanting to go into the details of his own misdeeds, "It was not the right reaction and I know that. I ..." he trialed off and shrugged, he wasn't going to beg for forgiveness as Summers hadn't been the one wronged by his outburst.

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"Mr. Harris, I want to show you something that will not leave this room." Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a series of photographs, both black and white and in color, and spread the grainy old images on his desk. As Mike studied the pictures, he realized they were all of the Centurion, but none of them were like Mike himself had ever seen: there was the Centurion attacking Americans in WWII uniforms, there he was with an alien slug on his head chasing Lady Liberty, and here he was punching through a National Guard tank in front of the Pyramid Plaza.

"1941, 1967, and 1979. The Centurion was mind-controlled more than once in his career, but those were the times it stuck the longest." He touched the last one with a grave look on his face. "In 1979, he was part of a mind-controlled group of Leaguers that tore their way through an AEGIS team and a National Guard regiment. The Centurion himself didn't take lives....but he watched, and helped, as others did." Summers gave Mike a frank, completely honest look; the effect was a bit like sticking one's head over a blowtorch. "When people with your powers lose control of themselves, they become a danger to themselves and everyone around them. I don't need to tell you the potential consequences of what might have happened. The cape you wear and the reputation you carry is a proud responsibility. I will not see it sullied by juvenile public brawls."

Before Mike could despair at the headmaster's harsh words, Summers went on. "Mr. Harris, the measure of a man's greatness isn't in the mistakes he makes. It's in what he does afterwards. You made a mistake last night, one that you'll feel guilty for for quite some time. The question you must ask yourself is, what are you going to do about that?" he asked him, a serious challenge in his voice. "You can wallow in guilt, denying yourself happiness as well as denying your talents to a world that needs men of your courage and power. Or you can be something better."

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Mike's brow creased as the Old Man pulled the photographs from his desk and explained their significance. It was in many ways alot for the young hero to take in. "I never knew..." he murmured. He had of course heard about the events but they had always glazed over what had actually happened, they were stories of the heroes triumph despite the mind control efforts. He looked up to Summers uncertainly, "But I wasn't mind controlled." he said guardedly, "I..." he closed his mouth he wasn't going to make excuses or ask forgiveness. It was like Mark had said and what even he had told Eddie afterward, actions not words.

Mike took a deep breath and looked the stern headmaster dead on, "I think I understand, but what if I can't?" He asked plaintively, "I'm no Centurion."

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"None of us are," agreed Summers. "But when you put on that cape and those tights, you're wearing his colors even when you're not wearing blue and gold. You can't be the Centurion, Mr. Harris. But you can be the man he'd wanted you to be. And that's the most important thing, Mike," he said, his voice softening. "Don't try and be a great man. Be a good man. The rest will follow from that."

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Mike smiled at that, "I - I think I understand Sir." he said slowly thinking about what Summers had said. He wanted to say he wouldn't let him down but he knew that in the end it wasn't Summers he was doing this for. He had to to this for himself and really for everyone. He knew his potential for destruction, it might not be the same kind of fear powers like Marks or Alex elicited, but it went beyond just powers. He nodded to summers once more, "I can do that sir." he said simply sitting a little more straight in his chair, "There's more to this than just the costume, I understand that now." he paused for a moment and added, "Thank you."

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"Don't thank me yet, Mr. Harris," said Summers, smiling faintly. "You're already on the list for meditative therapy; you should keep that up. Beyond that, I want a ten page paper on my desk at the end of the week laying out the history of the Centurion's battles with mind control and other emotionally affecting issues. Use the school archives if you want to go beyond the public record. See if you can get a better idea of how to deal with situations like that in the future. In the meantime, send in Ms. Albright when you see her, would you?"

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Mike nodded as he stood. A ten page paper was actually a bit milder than he had expected as for punishment and while he had briefly entertained the idea of managing to escape any kind of punishment he was well aware that wasn't how Mr. Summers did things. "You've helped me and given me alot to think about Sir." he replied, "For that I thank you." He turned to go and added, "I'll have the paper turned in by the end of the week." the tall youth didn't seem the least bit bothered by the assignment. As he stepped out of the door he reached out to Alex mentally, 'Mr. Summers wants to talk to you about Prom.'

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'Unsurprising,' Alex's response flickered through his thoughts, tinged with the mixed layers of her emotions. Weary resignation, a little dread and a stalwart resolution to get through the next how ever many unpleasant hours of her life this would be. She closed the laptop she'd been working on and walked down from the dorms to the office, her hands tucked in her pockets. She was dressed for herself today, in a bright print tank top and jeans with multicolor patches that had been attacked at some point with a bedazzler. Her long red hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail held in place by a clip that had both glitter covered flowers and puffy bees that jiggled with every movement of her head.

She exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist before being shown into the office. Alex rocked a little on her sneakered toes but kept her chin up to look at that man rather than down at her feet.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Summers." Alex said politely.

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"Good afternoon, Ms. Albright," said Mr. Summers, his face a mask of calm, reserved politeness. "Why don't you have a seat," he invited, pointing to the usual chair on the other side of his desk, "and share with me your perspective on what happened this weekend at the junior prom. I'm sure you're aware I've already spoken to your classmates, but don't feel obligated to screen out any redundancies."

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Alex settled her in the chair and tucked her hands in her lap before she blinked at the headmaster and launched into a recitation of the chain of events as memory perfect as only someone with a truly eidetic memory could have accomplished. He'd asked for an unscreened and factual account, so that was what Alex gave him down to the nuanced detail as quickly and as coherently as she could manage. When the facts had been recited, Alex moved onto her opinions of the important events.

"Before Eddie teleported the car into the ballroom, I erased thirty or so seconds of the memories of the student body. I left alone those directly affected by the situation as well as the other students with psychic ability." Alex said quietly, her voice still sounding loud to her in the stillness of the office. Her gaze flicked down to her hands, subdued, before she forced it back up to meet the headmaster's gaze. "I'm aware that it was ethically inappropriate. I apologize for my actions, sir, but I have to stand by my choices nonetheless. I couldn't stand by and let the memories of that violation remain not when it was within my power to remove them. I love my family, Mr. Summers, and I had to protect them where I could."

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"You've placed me in a difficult position, Ms. Albright," Summers said, his voice low and gravely. "I don't need to tell you the legal penalties that you yourself would face if it became known you violated New Jersey's laws about mental tampering, as well as the possible fallout a subsequent investigation of our school might bring." He held up a hand. "And yes, I am fully aware of the resources we have available for dealing with such situations. That a ship may have life boats and pilots, Ms. Albright, does not give you the right to put icebergs in its way." He hmmed, studying her closely. "That said," he added, "on an ethical note, I find it hard to dispute the morality of your actions. While your family is...non-traditional," he said in what might have been a quip, "I recognize the ties you have amongst each other, and I will not much fault a mother's desire to protect her daughter."

He rose from his seat to gaze out the window, still keeping one bloodshot eye on her. "You're fortunate," he commented, "that of those students who retain memories of what happened and are not friends of yours, that each of them have their own reasons for keeping silent. Mindforce is from a society with both a strong social acceptance of telepathy and a powerful nudity taboo, while Prometheus retains an authority-driven social complex that makes him naturally accepting of the actions of others. But that's speaking to others for now: tell me how you feel about what you did."

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Alex shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her gaze straying back to her linked hands and she let out a little sigh. Her gaze flicked to the window that looked out over the school quad and she replied quietly, "I avoid thinking about it when I can. It makes me feel a little sick when I remember that moment of utter blankness before their normal brain patterns assert themselves. It's like holding a hundred glittering fireflies in the palm of your hand and then extinguishing them all at once. I don't like editing memories. I don't like taking away free will but that's the power I have so I try and use it judiciously and I live with the repercussions of my actions just like everyone else does."

She looked away from the window and back to the headmaster expectantly, "I know my powers frighten people. I know why. I know just how easy it is to change someone forever because I simply want them to be different. It's easier for me to understand than other psychics, in someways, because I've always had these powers. Mike holds back on his strength, I hold back on my mind, because its so very easy to break the people around us."

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"Shinnosuke Koyama has been assigned a semester's worth of sensitivity training, as well as special therapy with Mindforce to better protect his mind against emotional manipulation. Mike Harris will be spending the next few weeks in the school library thinking very hard about how a hero conducts himself. And Daisy Gibbons will be spending the fall session with her parents in Allen, South Dakota, wearing the power nullifers she is legally required to wear when within one hundred yards of her biological family. That leaves me the question of what to do with you, Ms. Albright." Summers turned and looked at her. "You are a Terminus-empowered telepath who altered the memories of dozens of innocent bystanders to prevent another student from embarrassment; you are a young heroine mentalist who risked personal disaster to protect a family member from abject humiliation and personal exposure. As I mentioned, you've given me a difficult case." He gave her a look, and not for the first time, she was aware of being tested. "What punishment would you prescribe in your case?"

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"I don't know, sir. You won't turn me into the authorities. Not only for the risk to the school but with my own activities and outing and the current socio political climate, it would be very dangerous to all super empowered youths should the fear of Terminus children catch hold. But you also won't because my activities are well within the acceptable margin established for other hero psychics." Alex said, reaching up to rub her temples as she obediently turned her thoughts to the problem as she was bidden, "You could expel me but that leaves me entirely without any overarcing guidance. Were you uncomfortable with my actions, that seems a poor response to take. Not to mention the very real concern you are no doubt entertaining that I am reaching the end of my own emotional endurance and starting to fray under the pressure. It is a reasonable concern and one that I entertain myself upon occasion. I do make mistake, after all. I am still human and still seventeen. It is possible I have overestimated my ability to cope with the challenges I'm juggling."

Alex returned her hand to her lap, lacing her fingers together. "My family is out of town and a paper will be of little effort and hardly serve as punishment. I enjoy writing and the library."

"What I need on an emotional level, is a break from the adult responsibilities on my shoulders and my error, if any, was in the legal realm if not the ethical. So, I suppose if I were, Mr. Summers, I would try and find a poetic marriage of the two but if you can accomplish that, sir, you are wiser than I," Alex drew to her conclusion with another quiet exhalation, "as I have been trying to find a way to make ammends but have remained unsuccessful."

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"Yes," agreed Summers. "I have already spoken to your mother by telephone. We had much to say to each other." Leaving _that_ particular sword to dangle over her head, he said, "Ms. Albright, I find it most useful in these situations to give you an opportunity to make use of your talents as well as contemplate the relative merits of your actions. My colleague Dr. Javier Charleton works at the Foucault Facility for Criminal Psychics in eastern Pennsylvania. Recently the Freedom City natives Parker Psion and his grandchildren were incarcerated there in expectation of trial. I want you to go there and join Dr. Charleton, commuting back to school via your teleporter, for the next two weeks as an intern, working alongside him in understanding the minds of the most dangerous criminal psychics in America. When inside the facility's nullifying field, you will rely on your intelligence and wits rather than your superpowers to better serve the cause of justice. Your job is not to suffer, Ms. Albright, or bitterly rue your assignment: it is to think. I doubt you will find it harsh. I hope you will find it illuminating."

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Alex considered his words thoughtfully before nodding her head in acceptance. She made a mental note to call and reassure her mother and juggle her activities around this new one which should prove interesting. "Thank you, Mr. Summers. I'm sure it will be quite an experience. Is there anything else, sir?"

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"As you interview them, Ms. Albright, I invite you to consider this." He folded his hands and studied her. "With the exception of a few sociopaths, every inmate at the Foucault Facility believed they were acting in the best interests of someone there: their family, their religion, the greater good of mankind, or even their own pocketbook. Choosing between the right and the just is a difficult decision. I encourage you to find the path that lets you choose both." hmmed as Alex rose, then added, "Send in Ms. White when you see her. She is the last bit of business that must be completed about that night."

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It wasn't too long before Erin walked into Summers' office, moving silently and with her back ramrod straight. It wasn't often that she was called into the office without knowing exactly what she was in trouble for ahead of time, and it made her nervous. She'd reviewed all the events of the prom on the way down to the office, and wasn't quite sure what she could've done differently, except perhaps if she'd actually managed to stop Mike instead of just letting him throw her around a little. Everything had happened so fast, and nobody had gotten hurt... maybe giving her detention after these escapades was enough of a ritual by now that he just didn't want to break tradition.

She sat down stiffly in the seat opposite the headmaster's desk, taking in the room with a glance to make sure nothing was too different from usual. Folding her hands in her lap, she met Summers' eyes. "Alex said you wanted to see me?"

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"I did," said Summers, meeting Erin's eyes with his usual unreadable expression, his face like the carved totem poles from the Northwest she'd seen as a little kid. "Tell me everything that you recall from the evening of the junior prom. You can trust that I've spoken to your colleagues, so you can be assured I've been fully debriefed on any information you inadvertently omit."

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"I can't tell you much of anything more than you've already heard," Erin told him flatly. "Alex organized a junior prom for us, a lot of people showed up. Things were going well, there was a couple hours of music and dancing, food, some other stuff, but nothing weird. When it came time to do the prom king and queen announcement, James and Zoe were called up, and as soon as they were on the stage, Leet took over the projector screen and started playing a pornographic video he'd taken of James and Zoe because Daisy convinced him to. Mike got really upset and started swinging, and Zoe and Mark and I tried to keep him off James. He tossed me around a little, and whatever Zoe tried didn't work, but when Mark stepped in front of James and yelled at Mike, it made him stop.

"He was just calming down when Eddie teleported his car onto the dance floor. I don't know what he did to it, but it was going way faster than a car like that should've been able to go. We were all bunched up, and he somehow managed to aim it right at us. I pushed James out of the way and Mike got in front of Mark and Alex, so Mike was the only one who got hurt. Well, and Eddie. James pulled him out of the burning car and Eddie tried to punch him, and then Zoe punched Eddie, and that was pretty much the end of the excitement for the evening. Alex and Mark patched pretty much everything and everyone up." Erin shrugged, not sure what else the headmaster wanted to know.

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Summers hmmed. "That tells me everything I need to know. Ms. White..." He put his hands down and gave her a level look. "I want to commend you for your heroic actions," he said, in the same tone which he'd used to interrogate her earlier. "Not only did you do your best to restrain your classmate, who I've already spoken to about his self control, you did so in the safest, least violent way you could have under the circumstances. Following that, you placed yourself in harm's way to help rescue fellow students." He nodded in satisfaction. "I'm going to put a commendation in your school file, and move you to advanced combat training in Freedom League-maintained facilities. You only have one more year here, and I want to make sure you have experience working alongside the adults who will be your professional colleagues upon graduation. Did you have any questions for me?"

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Erin was silent for a minute, startled out of anything she might have been about to say. Managing to earn the headmaster's approval in anything was a new experience, and she wasn't entirely sure what to say. He'd told Fulcrum that she was the most skilled fighter in the school, but that was in the same breath with saying how dangerous she was, so that didn't really count. Training with the Freedom League was an expression of faith as well; if she screwed up there, it would look bad for the school as well as for her. She hadn't thought Summers would ever think she was ready, much less think her ready now.

For a moment she was tempted to ask what would happen to her when she graduated, especially if she couldn't hack it in the Freedom League, but she decided to keep her mouth shut. Even metahumans with boring powers could get jobs, she figured. She could be her own one-woman moving company. She could live in her truck for a little bit if she had to, and find some way to afford the therapy she'd probably still need because she was never going to really get better... Just thinking that way made her head hurt. It was a whole year away, anyway. "No sir," she told the headmaster. "Thank you."

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