The Truth Behind the 193-Year-Old Building(Ch. 10)

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I felt my mouth go dry. I tried not to look nervous or show any trace of emotion, but out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed Graham shaking like a leaf. Caulfield could telepathically communicate, but how did we get here?

I remembered Justyne. She could teleport. If she had just gotten her powers, then he probably just did, too.

"That's very good, Donnermay. I'm surprised you figured it out so soon. But then again," Caulfield said, tapping his temples, "You have quite an extraordinary brain, don't you?" He turned to Graham. "And unfortunately, so do you." He scowled. I gave Gray a puzzled look, and he shrugged. Caulfield caught onto our silent conversation, and explained. "That delinquent doesn't deserve a gift of this magnitude."

"Hey I'm a delinquent, too, y'know." I interjected.

"He's a different kind of delinquent. He quiet, and quiet either means he's up to something, or-" He stopped short. "I don't need to justify myself to you. Now I'd like to get back on topic and talk about your 'gift'.

"Telepathy. It's been called magic, fantasy, witchcraft, wizardry, but most of all, fake. I once met a guy, while I was in Russia, by the name of Chekov Gorbachev. Strange man, with crazy ideas. So crazy, that no one even took him seriously. But I did. I told myself, 'One day. That's it. I'll spend one day talking to him, but that's it.' I soon found myself speaking with him everyday for at least three hours.

"He told me about these crazy experiments. And tests. It all started during the Holocaust. Everyone knew that the Nazis conducted tests, but no one knew what kinds. Gorbachev did. In fact, he worked in the Nazi Experimental labs. But once he knew what they were doing, he fled. He ran away to Russia. They were trying to create the perfect solider and race.

"Not just this Aryan nonsense. I'm talking about powers. Like yours. Telepathy, teleportation, telekinesis, mind control, flying, the list is endless. So they used the Jews as lab rats. They studied the biology of genes. They knew that there were some people that had these powers, and they knew those people had the answer to the Nazis' questions locked in their gene code. So they spent months upon months trying to figure it out. But they didn't know how to transfer the DNA. They would separate it from the other cells, but they couldn't stop it from destroying a normal person's cells. But Gorbachev knew how.

"The day he had finally came up with a theory, he called me. He was frantic. He said someone was watching him, but I had no idea what he was going on about. He had mailed me all of his work ahead of this, and never told me. That day, I went to his apartment to find him dead in his own bathroom. He had his brains splattered on the wall behind him. Suicide, I had thought. A waste. But when I arrived home I found a letter and his work. I found out that it wasn't suicide. He was protecting himself from the Nazis' torture."

"Nazis? If you were alive during World War II, then why haven't you aged?" I asked. He laughed.

"All shall be explained in time. I fled back to the good ol' US of A, and put together a common understanding and presentation of Gorbachev's work. It was highly classified, even kept from the president, like someother things, and soon I found myself face to face with the head of the C.I.A. He gave me permission to run the operation, and here I am.

"Ms. Donnermay, you mentioned earlier that I have not aged. Well, Gorbachev's research has led once ordinary people like me, to become extraordinary people like you. I now have the many abilities of your kind." When he finished, I gasped as Graham backed away, horrified. I could feel the pressure all around the room, breaking us down. I pushed my fear, horror, and anxiety to the side, and stepped forward.

"This isn't a mental institution at all is it? It's for your sick experiments and tests!" I yelled. He smiled. It was a cold, hard smile, full of spite.

"This isn't, but we've never done anything gruesome. This place is simply to study the great species God had left for us humans. Every 'patient' here has abilities. The doctors are scientists, who study each person. Except for you. You're special.

"Telepathy was the only ability we couldn't transfer, or take hold of. One patient we had, had died immediately. The we found Graham. We took him in, and yes, we preformed tests on him, but he was never supposed to have known. He put him in a mental staysis. He broke out of it due to his high mental power, and recovered with foggy memories of the tests. That's what threw us off. We didn't know what he could do other than it being a mental power.

"We searched and searched for someone who could telepathically communicate with him, because that's just how it works."

"And you found me. That's why you hired me." I softly said. "But how could you have known that it was me."

"I had a little help..." And with that, I heard a rustle coming from a rather dark end of the room. A frail, withered, old lady stepped out of the gloom and into the light. She fiddled with her fingers, intently staring at them, not looking up. She seemed familiar, but it wasn't until Graham spoke up that I realized who it was. His voice was a rough, dry croak.

"Mom?"

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*dramatic music* Oh no!!! Yea I kno it was a short update, but hey, no one's reading it, so whatever.

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