“Adam Szofer. Do you know why you're here?” - the man in black queried Adam, with voice of a stereotypical FBI agent, but none of one's demanour.<br/><br/>„No? What's going on here anyways? Why am I under arrest?” - he asked. He sensed his thoughts: He deemed him a killer... but why? Adam never... actually, he did. Indirectly. And if they think it was him, they know how come. Adam's found out.”<br/><br/>„You are not under arrest, not really. You are, however, in a pickle.”<br/><br/>In a dank storehouse, with only a ceiling light above Adam for a lighting and an agent before him who knew what he did and was capable of, Adam had no choice but to be honest about what he thought: „Just tell me what do you know of me. You'd be embarrassed to commit me through normal channels of justice.” - he said. Perhaps he caught that notion in the Agent's thought stream, perhaps he figured that out by himself.<br/><br/>„You are Adam Szofer. 18 years old, Polish national. Chicago Kensington Academy is where you got your high school degree. The same school that saw 20 people, no less, die due to school shooter two years ago. Due to the killer himself and, yours truly.” - he pointed at Adam - „ You had a history with perpetrator. The perpetrator was screwing you over. Then you found out you can read thoughts and influence mood” - Adam at that pace has sent an involuntary wave of distress, causing all in the room to shudder momentarily - „Like this, yes.” - the agent quickly regained composure. „You used that for revenge, driving the perpetrator to do his thing.”<br/><br/>There was no point denying anything. Both agent and Adam knew they could not prosecute him via usual channels of justice. „It's all true. No idea how did you found out, but it's true. I was angry, so I took it out, but if you know as much about my life later on, you'll know that I'm past that. I swore to never again use my ability like that and I kept my word. Can you trust me on that?” - he asked, pleading. No answer.<br/><br/>„There's one more thing. You can't stop reading other people's minds. It's out of your control.”<br/>They knew that too! Adam gasped. „How?”, he asked.<br/><br/>„We're closer to you than you think. That's also beside the point. I have an offer you can't refuse.”<br/><br/>Adam once heard that American state is very akin to the mob, in how they operate and make people pay their dues. A mob that will educate you, adequately protect you and let you choose your own Boss, but a mob nonetheless. Never it seemed more true than now.<br/><br/>„We have a college for people just like you. We'll teach you how to regulate your powers. We'll teach you how to expand them. Once graduated, you'll have very interesting career options before you. What do you say?”<br/><br/>„There's a catch somewhere there, right?” - Adam asked. He was defeated, surrendered and consigned his soul to God already; he was convinced the FBI could just drop him and dump him in the middle of nowhere.<br/><br/>„You'll see. Does it matter? It's an offer you can't refuse anyway.”<br/><br/>The agent was right on that. Adam consigned his temporal life to the government, so that he may yet have a chance at it. Soon, he was riding on bus to the academy the agent spoke of, after tearful farewells to his mother and father. There was only one thing he remembered from their farewell and it was what they wanted him to remember the most: That he was to always remain true to himself and his own ideals, whatever it took.<br/><br/>„What are even my ideals?” - Adam wondered as he pondered on what he promised. His parents thought there could not be a mind that was too open. Adam realized they were wrong: His mind sometimes appeared so open to notions, that it sometimes forgot where it stood.<br/><br/>2 weeks later<br/><br/>At least they did not do the big speeches when the semester started. From what he saw, the school he was in was somewhat remote, same for the boarding. Adam settled in upon a room not that much unlike rooms commonly associated with students. For a first year, he had a lot to figure out around.<br/><br/>„What was your name? You don't seem from here” - a teacher asked him before a class.<br/>„Adam Szofer. I was born in Poland” - he answered dispassionately, sensing confusion from a teacher.<br/><br/>„Do you understand all I'm saying?” - she continued.<br/><br/>Yep. This was going to Adam's cringe compilation. They thought to help him control his capacities as a psyker, but did not even knew who he was yet. „I did my whole high school here.” - he answered, annoyed.<br/><br/>The classes were sure the weirdest part. So far, they all seemed like examinations more than anything to help. Tell what someone thinks, apply emotion to someone. Like he was teaching them, not the other way around.<span style="font-style: italic">Either they start off early with this school, or speak untruth of their intentions</span>– Adam thought –<span style="font-style: italic">which speaks badly of their will. I have to stay vigilant, though technically I'm at their mercy</span>. „You'll see” - the voice of the agent echoed.<br/><br/>After the „class”, Adam went to the courtyard to gather thoughts on what was going on, only to find a girl, quite literally under his feet, getting up and speaking to him. Emotions of startled suprise and tension not often seen, echoed through his mind.<span style="font-style: italic">So much weariness, for a girl like that... with such a face, such...</span>Adam snapped out of himself quickly to cogitate a response, but not before sharing a smile.<br/><br/>„The real world is so much more than what's around us anyways. It is not often seen, though it is known.” -  he answered, trying to soothe her nerves and extended hand to help her up. Adam was almost castigating his thought –<span style="font-style: italic">Most people, even touched by the psyker's abilities, would only be bored by philosophy, right?</span>Yet Adam still wanted to calm her somehow. Of course, he could apply a psychic soothe. But he just met her. He never wanted to use his power too whimsically, especially if he was not that controlling over it. What happened at his high school, could never happen again. And through restraint, and the small acts of kindness as seeking to calm the girl down, Adam hoped to prevent that.<br/><br/>„I'm more curious about a new acquaintance than startled, really. Name's Adam, by the way. I just arrived. I take it you've established yourself around here. Nothing better to show me around somewhere, especially when I find little use of making friends. And of course, I'm quite pleased to meet you, regardless of circumstance.” Adam's voice was slightly deep, yet silky just as much, layered in accent typical of a Slav-tailored tongue.. As always, he had his deep blue, three-striped tracksuits on, and a beret. A simple shirt hid itself beneath the tracksuit jacket and that was all there was to it, contrasted to the girl's clearly multi-layered outfit. They contrasted in build: Adam was broad-shouldered, without being towering, while the girl was of light and lean feature, though her clothing made that quite subtle and was almost as tall as Adam.<br/><br/>„What of you? What's your name? And where you're from, perhaps? I lived in Chicago. Those who live there do have to watch where they sit, to be fair” - he chuckled. Humor could diffuse tense state of being as well as any direct psyker soothe, after all.