Ravela walked out of the Police Academy Monday afternoon feeling like she should stir the pot some more. It felt exhilarating to have things in motion around her.
The public deserved to know what was happening with the Altered.
‘No, the Powered,’ Ravela corrected herself, not for the first time.
Visiting Atla Jaest today was at the top of her list. It was time to create a mystery for the famous Major Buster to chase, a little something to keep them on their toes, and maybe something to distract. As she drove to the motel, Ravela once again saw a billboard for the exhibit of Dr. Ito. Maybe she would throw some chum in the water to get the good Dr. Ito off her trail.
A grin spread on her face. The idea wasn’t bad. She would have to develop a proper story for Michael Manus, who the world got to know as Michael Menace, because she failed the pronunciation.
It had to be worrying enough for the FBI to concentrate valuable resources on hunting this ghost organization but not threatening to the point where they could just recruit all the Powered by default. She had to sow doubt to keep the people with powers to flock to the government if only to prevent them from hoarding all the talent.
The angle would have to be noble enough pursuit to get Atla on her side.
“The truth,” Ravela said with a sly grin, glancing at the review mirror. “is the noblest of all pursuits.” She repeated her words for a while, practicing the phrase.
As she entered her motel and changed into Michael Manus’ signature suit, Ravela kept practicing specific phrases in front of the mirror, adjusting the motions of her face, brow, and even the glint in her eyes. She was crafting her performance.
Pulling out Michael’s ring, considering how dangerous it would be to walk through Pliada City wearing his face. But walking into Atla’s office repeatedly, changing rings once close to her office, risked exposing her trick. After all, a reporter like Atla would soon grow wise to her ways.
She left the motel as Ramiel but soon changed her appearance in one of the side streets. Moving through the city now felt very different. She felt eyes on herself, or at least imagined them to be. The eerie feeling of being watched crept up on her. By no means did Ravela fear the limelight, but an unknown audience reminded her of the times she spent being flung through dimensions for some being's perverse entertainment. It was not a great feeling to revisit.
More than once, she walked past a police officer or a police cruiser, fully expecting to be recognized and chased, but they all seemed too preoccupied with themselves to take note of the front page of a few days ago walking among them.
The fact that she reached Atla’s office without incident gave her some pause. Maybe the citizens of Pliada didn’t want to see her. Being a witness meant being a target for criminals, after all, and Ravela could only imagine what a populace had to contend with a mafia that could gain super strength from a mystery drug.
Ravela unlocked the journalist's door and discovered something new had blocked her entry. The door was barred, not by some feeble chain or tiny bolt, but by a sturdy steel bar. Adorable, but not a hindrance for her.
Soon enough, she sat in Atla’s chair, relocking the door and waiting for the ever-absent journalist to return. She didn’t bother digging through her files this time around because she was here to spin her own net instead of unraveling someone else’s web.
Now, she was anticipating the return of her acquaintance, wondering how an ordinary woman would unlock this bolted door. To her delight, the oncoming solving of this mystery had her rubbing her hands.
When she heard the approach of someone at the office door, Ravela leaned forward. Sometimes, it was about the small things in life.
Atla first unlocked the door with her key, and Ravela looked on in amazement as a piece of the wall opened up and a hand pulled back the bar. She hadn’t noticed that a small tube closed from either side was the key to this door. It changed her way of looking at things. The end piece, covered by wallpaper, had eluded her eyes. Ravela vowed to become more perceptive to how an average person would hide things. The plain-sightedness of it was fascinating.
The door opened, and Atla came in carrying two boxes, blocking her from seeing Ravela in her chair. How someone with such a dangerous job could be so carefree was a mystery Ravela would one day surely solve. Or maybe it was that she had thought the bar gave her all the security she could ever need. She found it hard to believe that a person who had witnessed her power would put any faith in that metal bar, but then again, who knew what made a person feel secure?
Ravela felt terrible for having violated the privacy of Atla’s office again. She decided to make herself known with a polite cough.
Atla dropped the boxes, spinning on the spot, yelling, and half yelping. “You! Wha-? How!? Seriously, AGAIN!?”
“And good evening to you, Ms. Jaest.” Ravela greeted her with a half-amused smile.
“You can’t be here. The police are hunting you! The FBI is hunting you!” Atla said, peeking into the hallway and quickly closing the office door. Turning back to Ravela and walking in a somewhat agitated manner.
“Well, where else should I be if not with the fourth estate? Telling the public the story their government won’t.” Ravela baited Atla, “If you’re not interested in the truth surrounding recent events,” She paused, looking directly into Atla’s eyes before getting up and spreading her hands in an apologetic gesture. “I do, of course, fully understand if you aren’t interested. A bit sad though, it is a good story, but I guess you’ll just print it a bit later.” Ravela said, walking toward the door. “Maybe in a year or two, by then, that article would naturally be less groundbreaking, but I am sure it isn’t always about being first to a story, right?” She said apologetically, putting her hand on the doorknob.
“Now hold on,” Atla paddled back. “I didn’t say you should leave right away.
Ravela stood with her back to the journalist, hiding her smirk, washing it off her face before turning around. “It surely sounded like you wished for me to leave.”
Atla walked around her desk and sat in her chair. “Come on, sit down. Let’s talk about the hospital and why you’re here.”
“That’s more like it.” Ravela agrees with a wink. “So, that article in The Tribute about the confrontation you caught on camera was certainly a big nothing burger, wasn’t it? Did you run over from your office, or were you just nearby through chance and fate?”
“What do you mean, nothing burger? I caught you on camera getting chased through town.” Atla countered Ravela’s swipe at her penmanship.
“I never said we were there to fight. It is quite the opposite, in truth. We were there in pursuit of the truth. Something the government didn’t deem to be forthcoming with. Wouldn’t you want that, the truth?” Ravela replied, ready to sell her a different version of what the state neglected to misinform her about.
Atla leaned in. “Are you asking me to give you an interview?”
Ravela smiled warmly, “Why not? How much closer to the story could you get? If I tell you why we were there, they won’t have a choice but to, well, give you anything that comes even close to covering their asses if the big bad Menace comes forth and bares its teeth. They’d have to tell you something, right?”
“First of all, who is we?” Atla said, dissecting the conversation.
“My partners and I, tirelessly at work.” Ravela offered. “I assume we’re having the interview about the incident with a forthcoming participant you so desperately wished to have with the police, FBI, or Major Buster himself, right?” She laughed, showing off her pearly white teeth. “Splendid.”
“And for whom are your partners and you working exactly?”
Ravela folded her hand on her lap, smiling. This part might pique Dr. Ito’s attention if she read it right. “We work for no government. We work solely for one person, blessed be her return.” She almost snickered at the self-exaltation she put herself through.
“And what is her goal?” Atla fired the next question without hesitation.
“The world has changed drastically. More drastically than you may realize just yet. My powers and my partners’ powers are clear indicators of that. But we are not the only ones. There are others. An awakening has occurred, which puts in motion wheels that stood still for a long, long while.”
“That is rather vague. Care to elaborate?” Atla inquired.
“There recently was an incident at a university that garnered merely local news attention. To some, it may seem like a crass accident, a freak incident, or a disgusting prank gone wrong. It was pure luck that nobody died. Among the victims of the incident was a young man, eighteen years of age. Of all the victims, he was the only person to be transferred to Pliada’s most prominent hospital. He froze an entire pool, and while everybody struggled to escape, the young man swam through solid ice as though it were still water. There was a construction site just outside of Pliada where a man fell under a concrete tube and got flattened. Somehow, he stood back up minutes later and walked it right off. A fully healthy man, admittedly having been in an accident, was sent to that same hospital. Curious, is it not?”
“I am afraid I can’t seem to follow.” Atla motioned for her to continue.
“Naturally, you might say that there are just two people, except it is not just two people. There are so many more. As of last week, the government took twenty-eight into its care without informing the public. Though the actual number is higher, the number of “arrested people with Powers” is twenty-eight. Now, your government will deny that they arrested any of them, and yet, they aren’t free to leave, even the construction worker who is in good health or the high school student whose only talent is to make her surroundings smell like a flower shop. My point is the parents of the kids “the government took into its care” should be very careful not to let their children be turned into child soldiers. I know of one who already left the hospital. Whose parents, persuaded by the government, gave him away to a ‘training facility’.”
“I was there when you boasted that you knew of some the FBI had missed. Did you recruit them?” Atla said, reminding Ravela that she had been much closer than she ought to be for her own safety. “Moreover, how did you end up fighting?”
“We did not recruit anyone yet. We are merely taking stock, making sure they aren’t used by actors robbing them of their agency. Freedom is important, just as important as the truth.” Ravela said, chastising herself a liar inwardly.
Atla leaned back in her chair. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
Ravela copied her motion. “We sought to acquire information on the status of the people taken in by your government, their abilities, and the circumstances of their discovery. Unfortunately, two of us were discovered. Though, we managed to get the information we wanted. I had to contend with Major Buster’s misgivings of my colleagues and my actions.” Ravela replied, not masking her actions before the confrontation.
“You admit to spying and stealing patients' information?” Atla asked, looking up from the paper she was taking notes on.
“Since it isn’t like they’ll ever catch me, why not be honest?” She responded with a grin. “Besides, other people with abilities should know what happens when the government finds out about them. They’ll become a file, just like the twenty-eight patients. And who knows what might happen to them if nobody shines a light on this issue now.”
“The issue of the government taking in people who suddenly developed abilities that could be dangerous to citizens if they are not in control? Yes, that certainly seems a nefarious plot.” Atla cut through her story brutally.
“It may not be nefarious in the beginning,” Ravela openly admitted. “to that end, so that it never can turn in such a direction, we sought out the information, and now you. We won’t expose their names; a brilliant investigative reporter like yourself should easily be able to track down and verify on her own, but we urgently wish to inform the public of their existence before the government comes up with the idea of conflating genuine supernatural abilities with drugged up Swaddy gangsters.” Ravela tried to keep the angle on, shining a light on the existence of the Superpowered.
“Riiight. And this organization of yours, what is its name?”
Ravela smiled. Coming up with names hadn’t exactly been her strong suit thus far. “We, the chosen few, gathered by the one, don’t have a name. We like to remain in the background. Having a name never occurred to us.”
“Is this to say your cult still hasn’t decided on a name yet?”
“Such harsh words, Ms. Jaest. We aren’t religious fanatics.” The insinuation offended Ravela.
“If you don’t pick a name, one will inadvertently be chosen for you. That is how it goes. Anyways, tell me about your leader then.” Atla shot back.
“What do you wish to know about her?” Ravela asked, stiffening a bit.
“For instance, how did you come to meet her?” The journalist seemed too eager to steer away from the hospital incident. The prospect of a shadow organization, seemingly too tasty a bite.
Ravela shifted in her seat. She thought about the rings she had picked up on her chaotic journey. Her answer would be a somewhat roundabout truth. “When she found me and the others, we had been in a state of stagnation for many years. In many ways, we wouldn’t be here without her. She picked me, chose me instead of one of the other thousand candidates, just like I chose to save you that day.”
“That is a rather vague answer. I sense a pattern,” Atla retorted, unimpressed by the referral to her previous rescue. “Does she at least have a name?”
“Doesn’t everybody? I am not here to inform you about our group. I came here to forewarn you and the public of the coming age. Change has arrived at your doorstep, and it heralds the start of a new chapter for humanity. Don’t let freedom be stolen from you under the guise of security.” Ravela implored.
She stood up rather abruptly. “Maybe I was wrong to come to you with this revelation.”
Atla didn’t move from her seat. “One last question: what role do you have in all of this, as you say, coming age?”
Ravela hesitated, thinking of Safora and Laena, and she found her answer. She had practiced the right pronunciation of her mask’s name this time. “I am Michael Manus, the guiding hand of fate, if you will. I hadn’t realized I was saying it wrong till I read your article, by the way. It was,” Ravela laughed, remembering her reaction. “a bit embarrassing and an eye-opener, truthfully. Do with this information what you will. Verify these incidents, and you will find a bigger story waiting just for you. I bid you a good day, Ms. Jaest.”
Ravela left the office, making sure that Atla didn’t decide to follow her as the bigger story. The relief when she had made a few jumps over roofs and switched back to Ramiel’s ring was surprising.
It wouldn’t take long for Atla to become much more interested in Michael Manus than in the emergence of some people with powers, which meant that from now on, Michael would have to go into hiding.
