Chapter 25 Government Custody

Agent Marcus Torres - POV

Twenty-three years I've been transporting enhanced individuals to Facility Seven, and I've never had one sit in the back of my van reading a psychology textbook like she's commuting to work. Emma Stone turns pages with the kind of calm that usually takes months of psychological conditioning to achieve.

"Most subjects spend the transport screaming or planning escape attempts," I tell her through the reinforced partition. "You're reading academic literature."

She glances up from the textbook. "What would be the point of screaming? You're not the one who decides what happens to me."

Her file mentioned omniscient abilities, but something about her composure makes my skin crawl. In two decades of this work, I've learned to trust my instincts about enhanced subjects. The quiet ones are usually the most dangerous.

"How much do you know about where we're going?" I ask, watching her reflection in the rearview mirror as we approach the facility's outer perimeter.

"Fragments," she admits, her voice carrying exhaustion that makes her sound older than twenty-one. "I see pieces of possible futures, not complete information. But I know you've been doing this job since your brother died in the Seattle incident. I know your daughter thinks you work in agricultural inspection. And I know you believe containing people like me prevents tragedies like what happened to him."

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. The Seattle incident killed forty-three people when an untrained psychic lost control during a domestic dispute. Danny was one of the first responders who never made it out of the evacuation zone.

"Stay out of my personal history," I warn her, but she's already returned to her textbook.

The facility's main gate rises ahead—concrete walls topped with technology that makes maximum security prisons look primitive. As we pass through multiple checkpoints, each one scanning our biometrics and the vehicle's contents, I notice Emma memorizing every detail with the focus of someone planning for future reference.

"Director Hayes has been preparing for your arrival since the Blackwood situation began," I tell her as we approach the main building. "He's been tracking your family line for years."

Emma nods like this doesn't surprise her. "Through Dr. Kane's consultation work. She's been feeding your director information about enhanced bloodlines since she started her doctoral program."

Something cold settles in my stomach. Kane's involvement in this case has always felt wrong, but hearing it confirmed makes me wonder what else I don't know about this assignment.

The intake process reveals more inconsistencies. Emma submits to every scan and evaluation with cooperative efficiency that should be impossible for someone experiencing their first government detention. Most enhanced subjects require sedation just to complete basic medical screening.

"Stone, Emma. Classification: Omega-level omniscient with reality manipulation potential," the intake coordinator reads from her tablet. "Special handling protocols authorized by Director Hayes personally."

As we move through the facility's corridors, past sealed doors that house subjects too dangerous for general population, Emma's attention shifts to details that most people wouldn't notice—camera positions, personnel rotation patterns, emergency exit locations.

"How many enhanced individuals have died here in the past year?" she asks quietly.

The coordinator's professional mask slips. "All subjects receive medical care according to established protocols—"

"Seventeen deaths," Emma interrupts. "Not from mistreatment. From enhancement procedures that pushed their abilities beyond physiological limits."

We reach Section C, where the atmosphere transforms completely. Instead of institutional cells, this area resembles a college campus with common areas, recreational facilities, and residents who move freely between spaces. Enhanced individuals practice abilities under supervision while others engage in what appears to be voluntary research participation.

"Welcome to our cooperative program," the coordinator explains. "Subjects here work with our research teams in exchange for improved conditions and eventual integration opportunities."

Emma watches a young woman manipulate patterns of light while discussing her progress with a researcher. "Integration into what kind of service?"

"Government operations," I answer, because her omniscience probably already knows. "Enhanced individuals who demonstrate stability can join specialized divisions—counter-terrorism, intelligence, supernatural crime prevention."

"Voluntary conscription," Emma observes without emotion.

Director Hayes appears at the corridor's end, a silver-haired man whose presence commands immediate respect from both staff and subjects. "Ms. Stone. Dr. Kane has told me remarkable things about your development."

Emma's demeanor shifts—still cooperative, but with new wariness. "Your relationship with Kane predates the Blackwood incident, doesn't it?"

Hayes gestures for us to follow him toward his office overlooking the facility's central courtyard. "Dr. Kane contacted us eighteen months ago as a researcher studying supernatural phenomena. Her insights into omniscient bloodlines proved invaluable for our recruitment programs."

His office walls display decades of photographs—government officials with individuals whose abilities are subtly demonstrated in each image. Telekinetics, empaths, psychics whose contributions to national security span generations.

"Enhanced individuals represent evolutionary advancement," Hayes explains, settling behind his desk. "Our mission is helping them integrate safely while utilizing their gifts for societal benefit."

Emma studies the photographs with growing recognition. "You've been recruiting from supernatural communities for decades. Kane wasn't trying to prevent my capture—she was ensuring I'd arrive here under circumstances that would make recruitment impossible."

The realization hits me like physical impact. In twenty-three years of transports, I've never questioned why certain subjects arrive already psychologically broken while others seem almost prepared for integration.

"Dr. Kane's goal was never controlling your abilities," Hayes confirms. "It was corrupting your psychological profile so thoroughly that we'd classify you as too dangerous for cooperative programs. She wanted you designated for permanent isolation."

Emma's omniscient awareness flickers, and I see the moment she grasps the full scope of manipulation she's been subjected to. "She was trying to save me from recruitment by making me unsuitable for anything except containment."

"Unfortunately for Dr. Kane," Hayes continues, "your cooperative behavior and obvious strategic intelligence make you an ideal candidate for our advanced programs."

That's when the emergency lighting activates, bathing everything in red while alarms sound throughout the facility. My radio crackles with urgent communications from perimeter security.

"Director, multiple breaches on the outer perimeter. Attackers using jamming technology that's blocking our surveillance systems."

Hayes moves to the window overlooking the courtyard, where facility personnel guide enhanced residents toward secure areas. "Agent Torres, initiate Section C lockdown protocols."

Emma stands abruptly, her abilities clearly showing her something the rest of us can't perceive. "They're not attacking the facility. They're here specifically for me."

"Who?" I demand, hand moving instinctively toward my weapon despite knowing it won't help against enhanced threats.

Emma's face drains of color as her omniscience reveals what's approaching. "Someone who makes Kane's psychological manipulation look like protection by comparison."

The building shakes as something impacts the exterior with enough force to crack reinforced windows. Emergency power fails, plunging us into complete darkness.

"Someone who's been hunting omniscient bloodlines for centuries longer than governments have been collecting them."