On the surveilance camera screen from the above corner of the room, an older man, probably mid to late 50's, was sitting at a table next to a cup of coffee. He had bruises, cuts and scrapes all over him, and the smell of smoke and soot was all over him. He was of Caucasian descent, and as plain and as ordinary as he dressed, his story was far from ordinary. He looked like he had been to Hell and back - and many people knowing his situation would probably agree. He was unshaven with quite a grizzly beard, and his weary eyes had the look of one who both carried a huge burden, and harbored a lot of anger and frustration. Standing up at the other side of the table was a man of nearly a completely different demeanor. He appeared younger in his early 40's and wore a very well-kept black business suit with a white colored button down undershirt and a large red tie. He was Caucasian as well, and his well-groomed blonde hair and shaven face greatly contrasted the unshaven man who was in emotional shambles.
"I told you...for the last time...I don't...know...HOW..." He said with a shakey and raspy voice, mixed with both sadness and frustration. "I lost my FUCKING WIFE, I lost my FUCKING SON, and now I'M THE SCAPEGOAT!" Tears began to trickle down his face. "I'm just an honest father trying to make sense of my life that's already fallen apart!" He put his face into his hands and wept.
"No, Mr. Detmer," the man responded coldly, unaffected by the display of intense emotion, "You sir, are a child abuser. We've conphiscated footage of you repeatedly abusing the suspect, Andrew Detmer." The agent walked into a corner, and due to a blindspot of the camera, it was not seen what he did, but it appeared he grabbed a manilla folder with paperwork and photographs. He pulled out a photograph of a young boy in hospital scrubs, drenched in blood and suspended off the ground by what looked like a spear impaled through his heart and into the concrete of the street. Upon closer inspection of the background of the photograph were destroyed vehicles, mutilated human corpses and even a blur of what appeared to be another young man, somehow several dozen feet off the ground, as if flying away.
Silence followed for what seemed like hours. Mr. Detmer took his hands out of his face and his tears halted briefly, as his sad face then turned to a blank Poker face expression. The agent held the photo there a few more moments. "Do you know this young man, Mr. Detmer?" He asked calmly.
Mr. Detmer stared at the photograph a few more moments and then back at the agent. "Yes," he said quietly. "That's my son. That's Andrew Detmer, my beloved son." The agent put the photo back in the manilla folder and pulled out another. It was a photo of surveilance footage of the same young man in hospital scrubs, this time hooked to IV's and in intensive care, with Mr. Detmer sitting in a chair by his side. "And this is you, with your son, at the hospital, correct, Mr. Detmer?" "Yes," he replied solemnly.
The agent took a deep breath and paced around the room looking through the photographs. "Mr. Detmer, you do realise, that I am not your average, run-of-the-mill investigator. I am part of the GPPT - Global Psychic and Paranormal Threats. You've probably never heard of us, and that's very understandable. A lot of what we do, is so sensitive and dangerous, that even some branches of government must request permission to even do joint investigations with us. Now, while I must say if you're found guilty of any other crimes while we investigate you, you may be prosecuted and punished - that is, IF you do not cooperate. Do I make myself clear?"
"Alright then, let us proceed. Mr. Detmer, were you aware at any point before these events, that your son had attained the ability to perform Telekinesis?"
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Telekinesis - it's a form of Psychokinesis. To put it plainly, your son at some point attained or was born with the ability to move objects with his mind with no physical contact of his body."
"Is that what it's called? I thought I was going insane. I still find it hard to believe this even happened," Mr. Detmer shook his head. "My heart was pounding so hard, I thought I was just going to die of a heart attack." He wiped his nearly-dried tears with his hands and sniffed and took in a deep breath and sighed.
"Were you also aware that your son had associated with others that had these abilities, or similar ones?" The agent took out more photos, this time from what appeared to be screenshots of video footage from a personal camera. One photo was of Andrew, with two other young men, one African American , and the other another young caucasian male, on top of a building with the camera a great distance away. The agent switched the photo out and then showed Mr. Detmer another photograph of what looked like the same young men in the sky.
Mr. Detmer's face turned into a look of shock. He tried to reach to grab it but the agent yanked back. "Mr. Detmer, I can't have you soiling this evidence. You must realise, you are still being considered a suspect for more than one charge." "UNDER WHAT CHARGES?!" he stood up and slammed his hands on the table. "I'M JUST AN INNOCENT FATHER STRUGGLING TO MAKE A LIVING ON DISABILITY! I'M A RETIRED FIREFIGHTER, I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!"
The agent simply smiled. "Really?" he raised his eyebrows in a sarcastic smile. He went back to the corner and grabbed another photo out of a different folder, and pulled out photos of Mr. Detmer hitting Andrew. "Well then, do you STILL believe you had nothing to do with it?" Mr. Detmer had a cold bead of sweat drop down from his forehead. His breathing slowed down and he sat back down. "That's what I thought," the agent sat down at the table. "You and me, we're gonna be good friends, Mr. Detmer. I'm going to get to know EVERYTHING about you. And if you cooperate, you just maybe, JUUUUST maybe, might get off the hook on child abuse charges." The agent patted Mr. Detmer on the back. Mr. Detmer facepalmed and wiped his face, then stroked his beard. "Okay," he said in a slightly calmer tone, "Sir, what is it that you want?"
The agent pulled out more photos, of the other young men. "Tell me what you know about these other two men. Also, I'm going to be living with you at your house a while." "LIVING!? What kind of sick organisation is this?! I want a lawyer, NOW."
"Listen, Mr. Detmer. I already told you. We are an organisation that doesn't answer to any other. We have our own rules. We investigate threats that most branches of science don't even consider legitimately real, things that threaten all of humanity. We do things differently, I warned you of that. Your right to the 5th Ammendment, and to a lawyer are out the fucking window, buddy. We want to make sure you did not conspire to have Andrew attack the nation - and more specifically, that YOU don't know anybody else that may have Telekinetic ability."
Meanwhile, In another part of the globe
"Ah, yes, I see," an old man dressed in an orange robe with a red garment over it sitting Indian style stroked his chin in deep thought. He was sitting on a small cusion in what appeared to be a Buddhist Temple of some sort. The corners of the room had shelves with fine pottery and very old scrolls rolled up, some in jars that were sealed air-tight. "Young man, it appears this strange rock you found underground houses some sort of powerful conciousness. Something that wanted to test you perhaps, though I cannot say for certain at this point."
"Test me?" sitting a few feet in front of him was a young man with a hoody and jeans and a backpack laying next to him on the finely made wooden floor, sitting on his knees. "You mean something wanted to test how we'd use these abilities?"
"Perhaps. As I said I cannot say for certain. You're very lucky I was present when you arrived. I was just about to go on a trip to the mountains to meditate and fast alone - I am one of the few monks here that actually am able to read and speak in English." The old man gave a warm smile. "Young man, I understand you are now a fugitive, correct?"
"Y-yeah," he stammered, "Y-you see, our government is very protective when it comes to-"
"Haha, there is no need to explain," the old man chuckled. "It is very unfortunate you had to resort to violence to make your friend Andrew stop. As Buddha once said, 'holding onto anger is like drinking poison, and expecting the other person to die.' But it is very understandable he reacted the way he did, if what you say regarding his childhood is true," the man frowned a bit.
"I..." he began to pause a moment and choked, as if holding back tears. One stray tear fell to the ground, but he maintained his composure. "I can't help but feel, that...I..." he gasped, struggling to maintain his emotional calm. "That I was responsible for Andrew's hatred for the world.." he looked down at the floor. He then balled his fist and hit the floor hard. "I caused him to become like that! I should've been more supportive...I should've been that role model for him to look up to!!"
The old man stood up and walked over to him. "Matt, was it?" Matt looked up, his eyes red holding back tears, he finally gave in and a few tears streamed down his face. The old man wiped his tears with his robe. "Matt, I assure you that your friend Andrew, is still very much alive." Matt's head jerked back up to meet the old man's gaze. "Alive?! That's impossible, I impaled his heart with that spear!"
The old man smiled again. "He is alive, that I can assure you. But I imagine at this point his body is under close scrutiny, and just waiting for the right moment to return."
Matt stood up and shook his head. "How? How is he still alive?" Just then, Matt felt a very familiar feeling, like water dripping down his face. He saw a drop of blood hit the ground near his feet, then he dabbed his finger on his nose, and saw blood.
Somewhere in New Mexico
On a color surveilance camera, what looked like a brightly lit operating room could be seen - but not just a normal one. It had large, futuristic looking machines, and a large monitor was seen overhead with various statistics and numbers. Men in hazmat suits and anti-radiation gear were seen surrounding a table with what looked like a young man's body on it. They were scanning the body with various machines. There were many gashes, cuts and scrapes on the body, but the blood looked like it had been cleaned off. Around the chest was a large discolored area that had seemed to have been sealed.
A large hissing noise was made as a door in the background opened and a man carrying what looked like a large metal detector was seen. The other men in hazmat suits backed away as he waved it over the body. The machine made clicking and buzzing noises, and the monitor began to flash and show yellow numbers that kept going up. He turned the machine off and then made a gesture with his hand. Everyone removed their hazmat helmets, and people took a deep breath.
The man then stood in the midst of them and began to speak. He had short military cut brown hair, and his cleft chin and stout neck hinted he had a very muscular body underneath the hazmat uniform. His hazmat uniform differed, as the others wore plain white, he wore black with gold lining - hinting he was the commanding authority. "Gentlemen, what we have here, is a legitimate specimen, and proof, of ESP. Something we've been properly trained to deal with, but haven't had to deal with very often. Now while this young man's heart is not beating, and he shows no brain activity - I'll have you know, that there are STILL large amounts of Psi readings within the body."
"Well, sir, what does this mean?" one of the workers asked.
"What this means, is that Andrew Detmer's concious mind is in suspended animation. People with this much Psi do not have their mind completely destroyed upon death. It instead hibernates, much like a mammal does during winter."
"So what is our next order of business?" Another man chimed in, an equally muscular black man also with a military crew cut.
"As you can clearly see, the chestwound is slowly sealing up by itself," the man in the black hazmat suit walked to a computer in the corner and began typing on the control panel. As he did, the monitor changed its display to what looked like a microscopic view of a cell. It was glowing a faint blue, and it had violent pulsating activity. Everyone looked at the monitor in unison with fascination and silence.
"What you are currently viewing right now, are Andrew Detmer's heart cells. Even though his physical body is dead, how is it that the cells can piece themselves back together? That, my friends, is one of the many wonders of Psi dwelling in a human for so long. Accelerated biological healing. Now, allow me to show you something else..."
The man reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a disc and slipped it into the computer drive. As soon as he did, footage of what looked like a gas station showed on the monitor of a young man in a firefighter suit with a large bag walking in the building. Upon close inspection, looking in the window of the building from the footage, you see the clerk violently fly into the wall and then what looks like paper floating into the bag. A few minutes later the man in the firefighter suit walks out, but then the clerk stands back up and runs outside with a shotgun. He points it at the man in firefighter garb. The man in firefighter garb motions with his hand, and the shotgun flips out of his hand, and goes off, igniting the gas station. The rest is static; then the scene switches to a hospital with Andrew and Mr. Detmer. The hospital lights suddenly flicker and go out, then it switches to footage of Andrew throwing police cars and causing people to fly in the air and vehicles thrown, crushing people.
"This right here you are viewing is Andrew Detmer after a violent explosion at a gas station. He took third degree burns, yet his body healed back up within mere hours, while the gas station clerk almost instantly died - not to mention Andrew then survived an explosion of equal magnitude at the hospital he was at. It is most likely that Andrew Detmer's body is reassembling itself, and within the next day, his body will reach homeostasis again, and he will either be in a coma, or may even regain consciousness and awaken."
"Sir...are there any measures in place to prevent Andrew from...well...killing us all?" One man asked, looking a bit frightened.
The man in black smiled confidently, and held out his hand. As he did, a clipboard with a pen floated off of a table and into his hands as he wrote something down. "I'll cook something up, don't worry." He walked out, and the airtight door shut behind him.