CAMP 2 - Vicky's Quest.

This story is set in the year 12 PE. That is, 11 years after the beginning of the Great Psionic War that put the world into such upheaval as to change the calendar.

What is so often overlooked, in the greater scheme of things, is the personal tragedy that is carried out on helpless individuals every day. Yes, during the war, great misdeeds were carried out on the innocent and weak. But war is not unique in this respect.

If one of these weak and helpless should then come upon the means to turn the tables on the world, can they really be blamed for doing so? Is it really the fault of such people if, under the brutal thumb of society, they grow to hate all humanity, and to wish for nothing more than bloody revenge?

For all of society’s civilization, it has not yet come to deal effectively with its lost souls. And so, some of them learn to fight back. In doing so, they are labeled outcasts, sociopaths, and caged or killed, as society, their creator, sees fit.

And yet, sometimes, these people come to realize that, though things are not as they should be, everyone can be happy if they seek out their niche. They learn that some form of accommodation can be made for every soul, for society is an ever-changing and always-compromising entity.

Good and evil exist in every man, woman, adult and child. Circumstances and personality will dictate what emerges as the most powerful. Yet, some people do find a way to transform themselves despite their upbringing, despite their circumstances.

This is the story of one person, Vicky Backaert, who has suffered at the hands of society. Will she ever find her place, or will she always be considered an outcast and shunned? Will she always hate humanity, or can she overcome society’s abuse and learn to live, and love? Only time will tell.

Net Wolf

This foreword certifies this as an authorized CAMP novel, approved by Net Wolf.

Nighttime, a suburb of Brussels, capital of Belgium. Fifteen people surround a large mansion, and effectively cut off the lines of communications.

<<The perimeter guards have been neutralized. Beta team is holding them in an 'all is well' field. Their phone lines have been cut, Vick.>> Sarah, a fourteen-year-old blonde girl with steel-blue eyes, telepathically said to a 20-year-old woman, with raven black hair and the same steel-blue eyes.

<<Thanks, Sar.>> the woman sent back. She took the radio from its place in her thigh-pocket, and pressed the communications button. "This is Alpha. We are green. Repeat. We are green for standard operations."

'Standard operations' was her designation of 'take no prisoners'. Everyone would be killed, except for the highest in the hierarchy. Those were to be taken alive, if possible. Beta team would hold the perimeter guards in their grasp, until the main assault had been completed. Then they would be killed, either by a suicide command, or something similar.

The woman replaced her radio, and crawled to the mansion. This was one of the last positions of a rival gang, and she was absolutely determined to eradicate them all. Of course, she would take some prisoners to have some fun with. She knew her people well; they would follow her orders to the death. The gang she was going to eradicate wasn't really a gang, more a gang in the process of becoming mafia.

Together with Sarah, the woman crawled to the front entrance. She unsheathed the sword dangling from her left side, as did Sarah. After a last conspiring grin, she lifted her radio once more. "Activate." She put the radio back where it belonged, and picked the lock on the door with her psionic extension. Both she and Sarah where the first ones inside, blades almost blurring as their psionic extensions sped up the movements of both body and blade.

Their technique was as lethal as they came. The guards inside never knew what was coming. When in close confines, like this house, swords, combined with the element of surprise, was more than a match for the guns of the gang members inside the building. Of course, Vicky wasn't stupid, her own people were as heavily armed as she could make them.

Vicky motioned for the stairs, and two of her people remained behind, setting up a post, covering the stairs. Their P-10 rifles, complete with silencers, were among ) the deadliest weapons on the planet. The ammunition they were using was guaranteed to cut through any type of body armor. These babies were designed for the pre-War law enforcements agencies, and were never meant to hit the streets. That didn't stop Vicky from acquiring them, though.

Vicky and the rest of her crack team covered the ground floor. Everyone on the ground floor was a crony, a supplier, or a buyer of the rival gang's drugs. Vicky didn't mind drugs, she dealt in them herself, after all, but she did mind that these people went to the competition. No one survived. Soon, Vicky's team met the team that had been covering the rear of the mansion. The people on the ground floor died of either silenced gunshots, or from the lighting-fast blades of the team leaders, Vicky and Sarah.

Backtracking, the people went to the post at the stairs.

"Status?" Vicky asked.

"We got two of them," Bob, one of the men, said.

Vicky nodded, and raised her psionic armor to maximum. She felt Sarah do the same. Both knew that their current state didn't allow for the ultra-fast movements required by the psionic martial art they were using until now, but the prospect of finding a bullet in their ribs made the decision for them. Calmly, they got to the top of the stairs. No one was in sight, except for the two dead bodies, the neat holes going right through their bodies.

The swords were useless in their current state, and both Vicky and Sarah drew guns. Vicky carried two Glock 27's, loaded with hollow-point armor piercing rounds, with a liquid explosive center. Sarah preferred her two Magnum 44's, and both covered for the rest coming up the stairs.

As soon as the rest of the team had made it up the second floor, Vicky and Sarah led them across the floor. Vicky and Sarah's televiewing were working in overdrive, scanning for life forms.

Vicky took two fingers off her right gun, pointing them out into the air, at the nearest door. Sarah nodded, and opened the door. Vicky burst in, and squeezed one round from each gun. The dealer and the buyer inside exploded as the rounds did their job. Normally designed to kill a person, no matter what type of armor they were carrying, the rounds did massive damage to unprotected people.

The next room was empty, and so was the one after that. Suddenly, both Vicky and Sarah grinned evilly at each other. They flanked a door, and looked at their team members.

"It's a fucking convention," Vicky whispered. "Those guys are too smug in their own superiority. They have limited weapons only. And no guards whatsoever."

"Are the weapons drawn?" the man right next to Vicky whispered. Vicky shook her head. She nodded at Sarah, and raised both her guns. Sarah mimicked the movement.

<<3…2…1…NOW!>> Vicky's extension kicked in the door, and Sarah rolled inside. It took Vicky half a second to recompose her physical shield, after it being used to kick in the door, and rolled in after the girl. The rest of the team ran inside as well. Before the gang leaders knew what had happened, they were each covered by at least 2 or 3 guns. The men were lying on cushions on the floor, like a scene from some Arab sultan's palace.

"Don't think about it, scumbag!" Sarah yelled the guy nearest her, and shot him in the knee with her 44. The guy's knee was almost ripped in half. Dazed, he gasped as he reached for the no longer present kneecap. He grasped his leg right above the knee; trying to compose what little dignity he had left.

"We are here to take prisoners," Vicky yelled, shooting a grin at her protégé. "Disobey us, and your death will be mighty unpleasant."

"Uhm… excuse me? I'm not part of this …uhm organization. I am only a guest…" one of the men said, rising half to his knees.

Vicky immediately scanned him, and nodded to her team members. "It seems we have a situation, Mr. Johansson. Unfortunately, we can't let you go. So, I'm afraid you will have to come with us."

The man went pale, and started swaying. He landed back on the cushions he had left barely a minute before. After all, the sight of ten people, dressed in black, breaking through the door like a revenge squad from Hell, inspired an enormous amount of fear. The team grinned as they saw the man's reaction. The rest of the people in the vast room looked in equally bad shape, pale faces and shivering bodies making their fat bellies juggle.

"When are we going to find ourselves some gang leaders who actually lead their people?" Vicky asked aloud. "You guys are repulsive!" She aimed her left Glock at the previously shot guy, and squeezed a round directly into his brain. The guy's head exploded, just after his face had assumed an expression of mortal fear. For an instant, Vicky thought whether or not the guy had a wife, and children. Hurriedly, she recomposed, and forgot her dwindling feelings of regret. This was not the time to be merciful.

"He was no longer of use to us." Vicky said. "Keep your mouths shut, do as we say, and you may live. Disobey, and you will be BEGGING to be allowed to follow in his footsteps." Vicky shot an ice-cold glare across the room. She was sure that a lot of them required new pants.

Vicky and her people herded the men together, downstairs, and into the armored vans Vicky had stolen from the police some time ago. She herself jumped into the BMW M5. Sarah joined her soon after. Vicky took her radio, after shooting the girl a conspiratorial grin.

"Stand down from standard operations. Bring them to base, people. Good work!"

She received 'affirmative' from her team, and started the 400 horsepower engine. Indicating that it wasn't fully warmed up yet, the car's rpm meter indicated it was not recommended to go above 3,500 rpm. Not in the mood of being contrary, Vicky eased the car out of the driveway, just in time to see the perimeter guards fire their own weapons directly through their own heads. Vicky flung her car onto the nearest highway, the E-40, toward Gent.

Vicky walked into her room in the Complex, her base of operations. The complex was a retrofitted steel mill. The steel mill had gone out of business during the Psionic Wars, now 11 years ago, and it had sustained heavy damage. For that reason, it had not been reopened after the war. Vicky had stumbled across it some time ago, and decided that its proximity to railroad systems, docks, and major road systems made it an excellent strategic site.

Her room was tastefully decorated, with a large double bed. It contained a display rack for three different types of swords, two of them were present at the time: a wakizachi, about half the length of a katana, and a Gim, or Chinese sword, straight, but longer than a katana. Normally, there was a katana present as well, but that one was currently dangling from Vicky's left side. Vicky preferred the katana. But the most dominating of all was the amount of technological equipment in the room. 

The triple-monitor computer system was state-of-the-art, with a double Transmeta Epsilon5 chip, propelling it to a speed of 4 Ghz, and a brand-new graphics card, enabling her to use three monitors at the same time. It had 10 GB of Rambus memory, and a 200 GB FRAM storage capacity. The computer was connected to a 48-hour uninterruptible power supply, or UPS. The computer was not only monitoring the security system in the Complex, but it could also take complete control over it. She was also the only one with access, and except for Sarah, it was her only confidence. Her 100-K Backaert encryption enabled her to be pretty sure of the safety of her logs. One of the three monitors had been replaced with a big-screen TV some time ago, allowing her to watch movies on her computer, as well as channel the Complex's security cameras to it, giving her a general overview.

She got into the shower after stripping off her clothes, consisting of various combat garments: two shoulder holsters, each containing a Glock 27, loaded with hollow-point armor piercing rounds with a liquid explosive center. She also removed the katana from her left side, and put it aside. She would have to clean it after her shower. She also doffed the bulletproof vest she wore under her combat jacket, and a black pair of pants, with lots of pockets, handy for all those gadgets that were needed during a fight.

The hot water of the shower relaxed her tense muscles, and she sighed in contentment as she washed her raven-black hair. After soaping and shampooing herself completely, she turned the shower back on, and let the hot water rinse the remains of the evening's sortie off her body. She remained under the shower longer than was necessary, savoring the feel of the hot water running over her tired muscles.

She got out of the shower, and dried herself off. She got into a pair of pajamas, and dropped her clothes in the laundry basket, making a note to herself to have them washed tomorrow. Settling on her bed, she picked up the remote to the big screen TV, and switched channels until she found something worth watching. After achieving that, she took the katana and her cleaning set, drew the blade from its scabbard, and started cleaning it, while watching the TV.

About an hour and a half after getting into her room after the sortie, she sheathed the katana, and held the scabbard in her left hand, at her side. Getting into a combat stance, she drew the sword. It made no sound whatsoever, but the whooshing of the air past the sword as it moved. Contented, Vicky sheathed the sword once more, and put it in its place on the rack: the upper level, with the edge facing upwards, showing respect for the art of sword fighting.

Vicky got under the covers of her bed, switched off the TV, and used her psionic extension to put out the lights. Her muscles relaxed as she fell into a well-deserved night's rest.

Vicky sat down at their breakfast table in the mess the next morning, motioning for the man distributing food to bring her the same breakfast Sarah was having: bacon, eggs, toast, a glad of orange juice and a deep, black, strong cup of coffee.

Leaning back, Vicky let her gaze trail over the large mess, where about two dozen people were busy enjoying their breakfasts. Nice, hearty, healthy breakfasts, still a luxury in the outside world, unfortunately. Vicky had been adamant that her men only be served decent foods… one of the privileges of being a potent crime lord.

“We sure changed this place… ever since landing the gang here, things haven’t been the same,” the elder girls muttered. “It used to be just the two of us against the world… now we actually have an army to stand with us.”

"Yeah, it changed both of us, and not in some minor way either," Sarah agreed. "Now, can we have some fun after breakfast? The guys we took yesterday have been put in storage, and I'm sure they can use some... exercise."

Vicky shot her comrade an evil grin. "Sar, you're incorrigible!"

"I know." Sarah grinned at her friend. She started out under the older girl's protection, but in the end, Vicky had learned as much from her as she had learned from Vicky.

Vicky finished her cereal, and sipped from her coffee. Sarah hurriedly finished her own breakfast, and still sipping their coffee, they walked back to the place where they could dispose of the dishes.

"We really changed this place, didn't we?" Sarah suddenly asked.

Vicky nodded in agreement. "We started with a gang, tattoos and drugs galore, a building used as a dump for the most part, and we ended up with a building I'm proud to call home, and an army, trained by the best."

"Us." Sarah laughed, soon joined by Vicky. Together, they made their way through the maze of the Complex, to the storage area. Every now and then, they would encounter someone, who would salute respectfully for their superiors. Nobody questioned why a 14-year-old and a 20-year-old were running an army of people who were almost two times older. Everyone knew that Vicky and Sarah were among the most lethal people on the planet.

"Here we are," Vicky said, walking up to a large dull gray door. She entered a code in the keypad next to the door, and it slid open. The guards were standing on the left and right of the door, both on the in- as on the outside. The guards just nodded their respect, not wavering their guns from the people inside.

Vicky nodded her satisfaction. "Johansson, you're with me." She said to one of the prisoners. Johansson looked at the black-hared beauty. Her steel-cold blue eyes told him all he needed to know. He jumped up, and took his place between the two girls.

<<Vicky, I bow to the master. That guy has nothing to do with them, yet he's got the worst punishment of all?>> Sarah sent to her friend.

Vicky shot her comrade a truly evil grin. A grin only used when she was putting one of her evil plans into action. Mr. Johansson, a 30-year-old man, with short brown hair and gray eyes, had no other choice but to get up, and follow the two girls. They flanked him, each grabbing on to an arm. He could feel their iron grips closing on his arm, and he winced in quiet pain.

Dear God, those two are strong. Who would teach a 14-year-old to be a soldier like that? It's immoral! And look at this! Everyone we encounter salutes to them? What ere they? Who are they? What is going on here? Hey, we're stopping. I guess we're there.

The man was roughly shoved inside, the door locked behind him and the two girls. He could see how Sarah held still at the door, while Vicky progressed toward him.

"What are you going to do with me?" ^what have I done to you?" his voice was thick with fear.

"You will be punished for your insolence," Vicky said coldly, gripping them man, and flinging him into the correct wall. Not ten seconds after that, he was chained, spread-eagle, to the wall.

"What insolence?"

"Conspiring with the enemy," Vicky calmly responded. Johansson obviously couldn't come up with a decent answer, so he just kept his mouth shut.

They probably don't know about my profession as psychotherapist. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. Preferably before I'm hurt too much to talk.

"Sar, get me Richter, will ya?"

Sarah nodded, and disappeared through the door. Dirk Richter was the leader of the gang that was destroyed yesterday. Vicky patiently watched Johansson, just as much as he was watching her.

"Why are you doing this?" he suddenly asked.

"Chaining you to a wall? Easy, so you can't run, only watch," Vicky's cold smirk ran shivers down his spine. He shook his head, his body trembling slightly in fear.

"I mean...this. Hurting us. I mean, I can understand you trying to kill us, but why this hurting?"

Vicky grinned. "You're smart, Johansson. Very smart. You recognized the signals, and drew the correct conclusion. I admire that. Most Firsts don't until the festivities begin."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Vicky regarded him with this cold expression in her eyes. He could have slapped himself, he had pressed too hard. Now that he just a little respect, he had lost it again. Fear did strange things to a man, he concluded.

"You want to know why I hurt people? Because people hurt me when I was younger, I now want payback!" Vicky had gotten up, and had yelled these words in his face. She was so close, he could feel some spittle run down his face.

"Abusive parents?" he asked. He knew that it was possibly the best way to continue. If she killed him right now, at least he'd be spared the torture of having to watch his friends die like that. The answer was her iron fist planted in his stomach. He coughed up some blood.

"My parents just kicked me out when they found out about my gift. No, I'm talking about the rest of society. A society that doesn't allow an individual to be protected. One human means nothing to them."

"Tell me about it," Johansson grunted, pain straining his voice.

"Why all the questions, Mr. Johansson, psychotherapist?"

Damn! She knows!

"Because I'm interested. I am here, I won't go anywhere, and when all this is over, you'll kill me anyway," his voice was trying to be brave.

Vicky laughed out loud. "You're smart, shrink. Very smart. Sarah's back. We can continue this discussion after I'm done with Richter." Vicky turned to the door, allowing Sarah to enter with her prisoner. Richter towered above the girl, both in length and bulk, but it was very clear who had the upper hand. Sarah shoved him inside, allowing Vicky to take over.

Not ten seconds later, Richter was chained up to a table that rose from the floor.

"My record in this is 42 hours, Mr. Richter. Do you think you'll help me break it?" Vicky asked. She knew Richter had no family, and she had long ago determined he deserved no mercy. The one who was tortured first usually was hurt more than the subsequent ones, so she had started with the one she had determined deserved to (be?) hurt the most. The worst torture was still Johansson's, who had to watch helplessly.

"Please, don't," Sarah added. "I want to take back my title."

Richter looked scared shitless from one girl to another.

"A couple of rules, Mr. Richter. You can scream, beg, and try to get free. That's your freedom. But, none of those things will get you leniency until I say so, and that is mine," Vicky said in the man's face.

"We'll start simple," Sarah walked over to a door that opened on her approach. It was indistinguishable from the wall when it was closed. She retrieved some tools, and walked back to the table where Richter was firmly bound.

Vicky nodded to her friend. The next moment, her extension shot out, and ripped the clothes off his body. The man barely had time to understand what was happening before it was all over.

He turned his head away in shame as Vicky fondled the fat man's dick and balls. She enjoyed his reactions more than she was repulsed by what she was doing. She laughed in his face when he got hard. The man was almost crying in shame.

"You're pathetic!" she screamed in his face. She slapped him across the face, forcing him to look at her, but he quickly turned away. She would start slow. She did so always. It was something she had found in her books about the Spanish inquisition, and other, similar, organizations. Let the victim build up in pain slowly, it will allow for prolonged sessions. This was part one: psychological torture. She caressed the fat man's ass with a de-sensitized psionic extension, allowing her to poke in his ass with the psionic equivalent of a dildo. She timed her movements precisely, so they would hurt a little, but deliver pleasure as well.

The man groaned and whined as the torture continued. His dick was erect, and probably painfully so. Vicky knew exactly what she was doing. It took her five minutes to have him utter a final groan of humiliation, and utter a scream of orgasm. A forced orgasm was about the worst kind of psychological torture a person could ever experience, and Vicky laughed in the man's face as he groaned and grunted in humiliation.

Vicky looked over at Johansson, and found his face twisted in revulsion. "What, you don't like what I'm doing?" she laughed at him, and continued taunting the bound man.

"You're a fucking whore, Richter! Look at you! Cumming while strapped on a table, and being poked up the ass by an extension!" she threw in his face. "You're a faggot! You probably ask big fat black men to poke you with their big dicks! You probably pay them to do it too, right?"

Sarah had learnt to keep herself in check during this part. In the beginning, she would burst out laughing, ruining the effect.

Richter just shook his head, saying over and over "No! that's not true!" while Vicky kept on it, claiming it WAS true, adding a few things every time, making it worse and worse, driving the humiliation to it's climax. She stopped just before she would break his spirit completely. More than once, she had driven her victims over the edge, and killed a man's spirit. And torturing a body that just undergoes everything is not much fun.

Vicky grasped for her first tool: a special cat-o-nine-tails. The lashes were wider, so it would deliver intense amounts of pain - without actually harming the victim.

"You know how naughty boys used to be punished in the old days?" Vicky said, suddenly composed. Her tone was normal, like she was asking someone for a light. Richter, stunned, turned toward her. Johansson winced as the implications sunk home. Vicky was using the victim's own desires against him! Richter wanted this to end, and Vicky's tone had implied such. The moment he looked at her, and saw the whip, the fear in his eyes was so evident that it made Vicky smile.

"Very good, Richter! And, Sarah, what has our guest won?"

"Well, Vicky, our guest has won a special delivery of 50 lashes of this very whip, on places to be decided by our lovely hostess, Vicky Backaert!"

Richter begged for them not to do it, to no avail. Johansson winced every time the whip hit the fat man's belly, face, or worse, between his legs. More than once, the man passed out, forcing Vicky to throw a glass of ice-cold water over him.

Suddenly, Vicky and Sarah flipped the victim over; giving him the remaining 25 lashes across his back and butt. Vicky gave the whip to her friend, and released the bonds. She then grasped him, slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, and lifted him over a hook, which had dropped from the ceiling. Richter was now standing up straight, his arms extended as far as he could. His feet were on the ground, but he had almost no slack to move.

Vicky looked at her victim. "You're still too comfortable, I'm afraid," she noted, and grabbed his right ankle, and fasted it to a small lock that rose from the floor. She then did the same to the other ankle, holding him suspended in mid-air. It would start to hurt soon, as his arms were carrying his entire weight.

She walked to his front, and grabbed his flaccid dick. His eyes widened in shock as she grabbed it firmly.

Suddenly, her other hand shot out, grasped some of his pubic hair, and yanked hard. She ended up with a handful of hard hairs, some with small drops of blood on their end. Richter just screamed his head off.

"You will be surprised by the end of our session, Richter. You will be surprised just how much pain a human can experience when it's accustomed to it," Vicky took another device from the small pile Sarah had brought over. When she filed a switch at the bottom, the device started humming in a strange, low tune. Richter looked as he did always, scared shitless.

"This is something that has not been brought to my attention by Marquis de Sade, but from the world of farming," Vicky said, looking over the device, her lecturing tone audible once more. Slowly, she brought the tip of the metallic rod to Richter's fat belly. A blue-white spark leaped across, making Richter howl and trash in his bonds.

"This is a cattle prod, adapted to inflict it's workings on Humans," Vicky ran the prod over Richter's back, stuck it in his armpits, burned some hairs off his legs, and generally caused her victim searing pain. Just as Vicky had predicted, Richter remained conscious during the massive amounts of pain.

"What do you want? Why are you doing this?" Johansson screamed at Vicky.

"What do I want? Sarah, what do I want? Mr. Johansson, it's quite simple. When I was young, I used to be picked on, bullied, and generally my life was made a living Hell. For seven agonizingly long years, I had no one but myself for companionship. Now, I will use everything in my arsenal to give a taste of what I went through to others."

"Dear God..." He mumbled.

"You see," Vicky continued, "my reason is nothing compared to Sarah's reason. Her parents were killed in the War, and an abusive uncle raised her. He rented her out to his friends. After I killed the uncle and his friends, Sarah joined me, to wreak revenge on the society that doesn't protect the weak. Now that WE are strong, we will use our strength to bring society down to its knees, and establish a better one!"

"But, then, why..." Johansson obviously struggled for words.

Vicky sighed long and hard. She turned back to Richter's fat form, and looked him in the eye. She grabbed a strange looking device from the pile, and Johansson saw a look of utter surprise on Sarah's face. The device was made of metal, but curled in a form neither of the men recognized. Vicky raised it, so Richter could look at it closely. 

"This is an ancient Chinese device," Vicky explained. "According to Chinese philosophy, the body has seven energy points, seven Chakra's. This is the most lethal of them all." She dangled the device in front of Richter's eyes. "Since our good Mr. Johansson requires an explanation, I'm going to do something I haven't done in a long time: I'm going to show you leniency, if you want it."

Johansson was startled as well, before realizing what a fatal flaw he had discovered: Vicky loved talking about herself.

"Yes! Yes! Thank you! Thank you!" Richter screamed.

"You do know what I mean by leniency, do you?" Vicky asked, in her sweet girl's voice.

"You'll kill me."

"Very Good, Richter. You're a quick student. Now, this is going to hurt. A lot. But, knowing that it's the last pain you'll ever feel will get you through it." Vicky's grin was cold as ice. She put the device horizontally against Richter's chest, right where his heart is located. With a snarl, she plunged the device through Richter's chest, causing him to scream out. Johansson was scared to death by the utter coldness of these two girls. Neither Vicky nor Sarah flinched as Richter screamed out his scream of the damned. Vicky twisted the device as the scream died down, and then, with a fluid motion, ripped it out.

Richter's heart was in it, beating its final two beats, before dying. Richter died not long after. Vicky looked at the mess the blood and the gore of Richter's demise had left. She put the Chakra device in a sink, while putting the rest of her tools back in the closet. Meanwhile, Sarah cleaned up some of the mess, having taken a mop and a bucket from another cabinet.

In less than ten minutes, only Richter's body was evidence of the savage actions that had taken place in this room. Blood still dripped from the corpse, but Sarah had put the bucket under it, allowing it to collect the ruby red essence of life.

Vicky opened the door, and talked quietly to the guard. Two men entered the room not a minute later, removed Richter's body from the chains, and disappeared.

"Now, I guess you want to hear everything about me, right?" Vicky asked, turning toward Johansson. "But before we start, I know what you're trying to do. The first lesson in every book concerning this type of situation: make the patient view you as a Human being, not an object. I have to disappoint you, Mr. Johansson. I already see you as a Human being. Torturing an object is not much fun, is it?"

Johansson grew even paler, and lost what meager contents his stomach still had. Vicky and Sarah just laughed.

<<What do you think, Sar? Shall we release him, or just let him hang there while we tell our story?>>

<<Maybe we should get him some place more comfortable. We can put him back when we resume our session with the others.>>

<<Right.>> Vicky agreed, and sent out a message to the man in charge of the prisoners, telling him to make sure that the prisoners had food, drink, and access to a lavatory. It was unusual for Vicky and Sarah to get such a large group at once, and it required some adjustments. They normally got one or two, and forced one of them to watch the other's demise, before being subjected to it himself.

"It's your lucky day, Johansson. We're going to get you someplace more comfortable, we'll tell you our story, and then we'll get back to this, alright?"

The next day, in the afternoon, Vicky half-carried, half-dragged a man through a maze of corridors in the building she called the Complex. With her steel-hard blue eyes, her jet-black hair, and her 20 years of age, the girl was a subtle beauty. Her steel-hard blue eyes sought out the similar blue eyes of Sarah. Fourteen years old with blonde hair, she too, was pretty. The man they were carrying was known as Johansson, a psychotherapist. The two girls dragged the man up to a door, and Vicky opened the door. The man was deposited in a room with one small bed, a table, a chair, and a toilet.

"Normally, this room is adapted to suit the guest. But for you, the standard room will do," the older girl grinned as she threw Johansson on the bed. She herself sat down on the chair, while the younger one returned not long after with a second chair, in which she promptly sat down. Johansson noticed a pin each one wore. It was a trident, in a strangely familiar outlay. He couldn't remember where it was from.

"So, you want to hear my story," Vicky said as soon as her companion had planted herself firmly on the second chair. The man nodded, and the older girl continued.

"Now, where to start? When I was very young, and I was in preschool, I was happy, had lots of friends, but had a small weight problem. Nothing major, but my environment generally accepted me. Then came a fateful day. A day I have refused to forget, just as I have refused to forget what the next eight years had in store for me."

Johansson saw the pain reflect in her face, and felt a shiver run down his spine. The words had been spoken so ferociously, as if the words themselves would be able to kill. He had no idea why they did. . .yet. He had been lucky to be able to talk Vicky into telling her story to him.

"What day was that?" he endeavored.

"First day of school," Vicky said. "First grade."

Johansson looked at her. "Was school that hard on you?"

She jumped up from her chair. "HARD???" she shouted. "HARD? They destroyed me! Killed my mind! Or at last, tried to. They didn't succeed."

Johansson's eyes grew big. This ran deeper than he had thought. He had no idea how to get her tot talk again, or to encourage her to continue, so he just waited. Vicky calmed down a couple of moments later, and sat down in her chair again.

"So, now let me start. When I woke up that first day of first grade, I thought that my life was good. I had no problem with school, never had, and I thought that first grade would just be a continuation of preschool," Vicky said, her blue eyes dark.

"I see. And I take it that your hope was... quashed?"

"O, yeah," Vicky nodded, pain etched on her face. "You don't know half of it."

"So, first day, first grade. My fellow students were all new. No one was from my old school. I didn't mind that, I thought I would have new friends in a matter of days. Boy, was I wrong."

"That evening, I told my mother how everything was overwhelming, but I didn't mind, though. I was convinced that everything would work out all right, and my mother assured me that the rest of the children were just as nervous as I was. I had no reason not to believe that."

"Over the next few days, my destiny became clear, as children started banding together. But, every time I came in the vicinity, all conversation would stop. This was strange to me, but I shrugged, thinking that it would all pass. Mother assured me the same." Vicky's tone was tight, controlled, and Johansson thought: This is really painful for her, yet she is able to keep herself together. She is a very strong-willed woman.

"Then came a day I will never forget," Vicky continued, and for the first time, Johansson saw something of tears glistening in the woman's eyes. He decided not to press on that, and settle for the story instead.

"In my old school, I was accepted for who I was, and I had lots of friends. Now, I was called, 'Chubby! Fatso! Garbage disposal! Four eyes!' I started crying, and when I told the teacher, everyone started calling me a snitch too. I was so alone. No one would help me. No one stood up for me. My mother assured me that tomorrow it would all be forgotten. I believed her. I had no reason not to believe her. It turned out to be the biggest disappointment of my life."

Was that a tear that slid down her right cheek? Johansson ignored it, not wanting to push her away. He had needed to use a lot of persuasion to get her to open up, and he wasn't about to get her to close up again.

"The next day, the teasing didn't go away. Nor did it go away the day after. My parents went to talk to the headmaster, and he promised to look into it personally. Of course, this only made the teasing worse." Vicky's voice was close to breaking, and Johansson knew it. He also knew better than to comment on it. He was impressed by her strength at keeping herself together.

" 'Hey, fatso! Want a bite of my sandwich?' the worst teaser asked one day. The teasing by now had gone from bad to worse. Students from other grades had joined in as well. They all knew I cried… a lot. They made a sport out of it. He who could make me cry the hardest would win," Vicky's voice was now colored in anger. She tried once more to get a grip on her emotions, and finally managed to do so, if only a small bit, but that small bit was enough to allow her to continue.

"I stared back at the guy with tear-filled eyes. His mocking face, his sneering mouth, and his entire appearance repulsed me. 'No thanks. It's probably diseased or something,' I said back, staring back at the floor. This was the first time I had actually said something back. The bullies were astonished for a minute or two." Vicky grinned as she remembered how the bullies had been put in place for a few precious moments.

"It didn't stop them for good however. The assaults, limited to verbal until now, became physical as well. For months, I was pushed or tripped, until one day, they picked me up and dumped me in a garbage container." Vicky's voice was tight, and Johansson could see a second tear slide down her cheek. This time, it rolled down her left cheek. His professionalism fought for control. How could people do this to a helpless girl? He had to fight not to jump up, and throw his arms around her, holding her, comforting her. But he knew that it was the wrong thing to do.

Vicky continued her story, her voice trembling just the tiniest amount.

"It was the last day of the old Vicky. I was picked up by three sixth-graders, and they had dumped me in a garbage container. I didn't do a thing to them, and I struggled to comprehend why they were picking on me. I had stopped telling mom and dad by now. They couldn't do a thing to stop it anyway. When I got home, I took a shower, and put my clothes at the bottom of the laundry basket. No one knew about what they did to me that day. And nobody ever knew, except for Sarah; and now you."

"I hated them with me entire being. I wished I could just slam them into a wall or something. They couldn't stand the fact that I was smarter than they were, so they just picked on me because I was overweight. Pathetic. That's what they all were. Pathetic. They were nothing! I vowed right there and then that I would make them suffer! I vowed that, one day, they would suffer the same pain I had suffered that day, and with interest!"

Johansson cringed at the words. How much pain there was behind those words!

"I started making true on my promise. I began fighting back… my own way. I was friendly, to whoever was friendly to me, or whoever needed my help, with school or otherwise. But, once the bullies came near, I would just look at them with this killer-look in my eyes and a vindictive grin on my lips. It took me a few weeks to perfect it, but once I did, the bullies were scared shitless of me. Remember, it was only first grade, and kids are scared easily, once you know the correct ways of going at it."

"The bullies tried for a few more times, but my killer glare scared them away. The rhythm of life changed. I was still an outcast, but at least they left me alone. The word spread fast. 'Stay away from Backaert. She's strange, man! She looks like she could kill you with a single look!' The bullies stopped picking on me, but I was alone.  I didn't mind the solitude. Solitude never hurt anyone. But it was still pretty lonely, until I found a trusted companion in my books and my studies. I had nothing and nobody outside those. But I didn't need or want anybody else," Vicky said, her voice hardening again.

"Then came a new set-back. My parents, seeing that I was changing, decided to send me to a psychiatrist. Although I hadn't changed when I was with family, or with someone who treated me kindly, I did have my killer glare in my eyes whenever a bully came near me. My teacher had finally alerted my parents, and they decided I should see a psychiatrist."

Johansson nodded. He couldn't wait to see how the psychiatrist would turn out.

"For five sessions, I went to the psychiatrist. We had long talks, talks at which I managed to keep him at bay. The talks went something like this:

"Yes, they bullied me."

"What would they do?"

And I would tell him. Managing to ban the pain from my voice, I told him what they had done. I didn't tell him anything about my revenge, however. It was my stronghold, my fortress. My revenge was all that was keeping me alive, and all that meant enough to me to protect with everything I had," Vicky said. "But he did teach me one thing: my hatred for them could not easily be negated, because it was something that ran deep, and it came from the mind, not from petty Human prejudices."

Johansson winced. She was able to circumvent a psychiatrist for FIVE sessions? When she was in the first grade? He looked at the woman in renewed awe. She not only had the intelligence to counter the questions with carefully laid-out 'normal' answers, but she had the strength of will to USE them CORRECTLY as well. And not only that, but she had managed to learn during her sessions, achieving a deeper understanding of herself. Johansson was deeply impressed, while Vicky continued:

"Second grade came and passed. Leen, that's my younger sister, started going to the same school. Being more 'normal' than I was, she was accepted. And although she didn't partake in any attempts at me directly, she did hang out with the bullies. I knew, deep down, that Leen had no other choice, but it still hurt me tremendously to see my younger sister accepted, while I myself wasn't." Vicky had a firm grip on her emotions now, keeping a firm check on her voice. 

"Our relationship, which had been good up until that point, cooled because of it. Leen tried to keep the relationship going, but I quietly and slowly shut her out. Leen didn't notice it, until one day I didn't allow her access to my room. It was at that moment that Leen realized that she was loosing me, and she tried what she could, but to no avail. It hurt too much to talk to her, to see her accepted while I wasn't, even though I tried so very hard. She was accepted by doing nothing, while I still wasn't accepted with all my efforts. It just hurt too much."

"I didn't see her as one of 'them' at that moment, but that would change, and this got her the same treatment as her 'friends' in school: a killer glare and a vindictive grin. I had to remain consistent, I felt myself loosing control. I needed to keep myself sane, and the only way I could do that at the moment, was by shutting her out completely. The pain was just too much, it threatened to invade the safe haven I had constructed in my heart."

Johansson nodded. He understood. Vicky had shut out all painful things in her life, and continued to do so. It was a natural response to try and get away from pain, but Vicky was one of those rare individuals who actually managed to do so effectively.

"Third grade came and passed. Fourth grade came, but the Psionic Wars interrupted my steady schedule. Every attempt was made to keep the school open, but after a full month of war, Ghent was evacuated. I didn't mind the school being closed. The war was blowing our way. Both sides were causing enormous destruction in their paths."

"I, my parents, and Leen evacuated to the country. We stayed with a distant relative for almost 11 months, until the war ended. I had always been an outcast, and the country was no exception. It was then that I realized that I would always be alone, one of a kind. I held on to my revenge and my hatred as a lifeline and slowly my willpower grew. I could play anybody I had to be to get my way by now, and I wasn't shy of using my abilities." Sarah, sitting idly until now, grinned as Vicky told this part. It was a grin of pure respect, of genuine admiration for her companion.

"As soon as the Wars had ended, my family and I moved back to Ghent, or what was left of it, and I went back to school. The school building had been destroyed, but an emergency school was being held in one of the few large buildings still standing: the congress center. It had been ravished, but not destroyed. With very few means, the few remaining teachers taught over 100 children each."

"As soon as I had set foot in the building, a few kids from my old school tried to resume the bullying. The year of exile had strengthened my mind to levels they could not possibly comprehend, and the bullies were scared to death after that one attempt."

"Why the time jump, from first grade to after the War?" Johansson asked.

"Is it really necessary for you to hear how I was picked on for the first, second, third and fourth grade?" Vicky countered. Johansson nodded.

"I understand," he said. "Please, continue."

"That day was the first day of the rest of my life. They left me alone after that, and I had a feeling that it would stay that way. Now that I was back to my studies and my books, I felt as good as ever. Who needed friends, when they had more powerful allies, like Sun Tzu, Nietzsche, and a dozen others? By now I was teaching myself all the necessary knowledge I would need when my revenge would finally be implemented."

"For my revenge itself, I had found this cool book, written by a Marquis De Sade. This book, and a book written by a Count Von Sacher-Masoch, form the basics of what I would do to the people that stole my childhood, and it came in useful for other projects as well." Vicky laughed, joined by Sarah.

"It sure did," Sarah said. Vicky snickered some more.

Johansson shuddered. So that's the reason for the torture. She wants to hurt others as the others had hurt her. This ran deep. Very deep. And he also knew that he was outclassed here. He had no idea how to treat this kind of psychological damage.

"Leen, who had seen how I had been growing worse in my isolation, tried to get me out. Nothing helped, by now I saw her as one of them."

" 'Come on, Vick! What are you doing to yourself? Why don't you let it all out?' Leen begged for the thousandth time."

" I answered her coldly: 'Leentje, stay out of this. I won't warn you again. You saw what happened in school when I vented my anger. And that was not even 10% of it. And now, SCRAM!' I yelled at my younger sister. The girl hurried out of the room, frightened by the burst of anger I had displayed."

Sarah grinned as she imagined the look on Vicky's younger sister's face. Johansson just listened on. Vicky had progressed fast, way faster than he would have thought. He could feel that something was changing in her.

" The weeks became months. After a new school building had been erected, everything went back to normal. Almost. I retreated even more, and although I was still glad to help anybody who asked, everybody was scared of me, just as I had intended it. I dressed now solely in black. I had dyed my hair and colored my nails in the same color. It added to the effect."

"By the time I was ready to enter junior high, I was almost happy. Everybody left me alone, just as I wanted. I might have been an outcast, but at least there was no plain hostility anymore. They were scared of me, and fear is a good way to keep your enemies at bay. But, once I had entered junior high, I found out that, again, no one was there from my old school. Some new bullies presented themselves, however. And those weren't scared off by my appearance, or my glare. They saw that I was bluffing, and it made sure the bullies laughed even harder at my expense." Vicky's face displayed barely contained sadness. Johansson thought she would crash during her last sentence, but somehow, she managed to keep herself together. The man did see the endless pain in her eyes; the suffering the girl had endured. Contrary to what she displayed, the psychological wound had not healed, it was just as fresh as the day it had been inflicted.

"For a full year, I hung on to my anger and my revenge as a lifejacket in a thunderstorm. It was, quite literally, all that was keeping me together. I didn't cry, nor uttered a single word to my parents, teachers, or anybody. Only my trusted diary was my refuge. Each night I wrote down the anger, the pain, the suffering."

"When I was in seventh grade, I was a thirteen-year-old adolescent. The changes in my body left its traces in my mind. I found it harder to hang on to my 'no-cry' attitude as the hormones raced through my body. I managed to hang on, but barely."

"Then, one noon, it happened. One of the new guys, a real thug, decided to play another joke. I had picked up my tray with my lunch, and while I was walking over to my table, the one were I would sit, alone, as the outcast I was; he walked up to me, and pushed me. I fell down, in the tray of food."

"For the first time since first grade, I felt the anger boiling to the surface. I have been able to control myself for so long, and now I have to fight to control the tears. What the hell is happening to me? I thought."

" ' That was my best shirt,' I mumbled, looking at the black shirt, dripping with tomato sauce and spaghetti. 'I suggest you apologize.' I felt a curious tingle in my mind, and the same time, the guy apologized. I felt an uncontrollable surge of power, of victory, and I was determined to use it to the fullest."

" 'Louder!' I screamed at him. 'Say it! Say you're a scumbag with a little dick who couldn't even satisfy his own hand!' My voice was rage and fury incarnated. Again, I felt the tingle."

" 'I'm a scumbag with a little dick who couldn't even satisfy his own hand,' he repeated, as loud as he could. Everybody laughed. All I could do was grin darkly at him, while deep down; I enjoyed his humiliation, the look of utter and sheer humiliation on his face. I got up, walked to the girl's room, and tried to get my clothes clean."

" 'How was that possible? And what is the correlation with the tingle? Is there a correlation with the tingle?' I kept asking myself. I thought that maybe, it was a one-time event. I came to the conclusion that I'd better test it. I decided to go home to clean up. I grinned at myself in the mirror."

" 'That's my girl,' I said to my mirror image. Nice, clean and deadly. I thought at the sight of my killer-glare. I walked to my next class."

" 'I'm going home to clean up,' I said to the teacher, after looking at him. The tingle came, and the teacher wrote me a permission slip. I managed to hide my surprise and my joy at being able to pull a stunt like that. Grinning darkly at the astonished faces of my fellow students, I left the classroom, and the building, and I walked home."

"You're really jumping all over the place, aren't you?" Johansson said. "By now you're already thirteen?"

"Uneventful childhood," Vicky grunted, shrugging. "Always the same. But, if you're that interested in hearing it, I'll tell you."

Vicky told tale after tale on how she was called after, excluded from activities, being cast out, picked on, bullied, and generally abused. Johansson grew paler and paler. The person in front of him might be a monster in his eyes, but this… nobody deserved to be put through these kinds of abuses. As Vicky related her experiences, Johansson got such a good description that he literally felt that he was there, and he could see the events in question happen right in front of his eyes. By the time Vicky finished, he had tears in his eyes.

Vicky cast a glance at her wristwatch.

"It's 6 p.m. The guard will bring you something to eat. Good night, and I'll see you tomorrow," Vicky said, getting up. Sarah joined her companion, and soon the two girls were walking down the hallways of the Complex. Nobody questioned why a 20-year-old had overall command, and a 14-year-old was second in command. Everyone knew that those two girls were among the deadliest people alive, and therefore, everyone they encountered respectfully saluted.

They walked into the mess, and Vicky found herself remembering how she had found the cafeteria, now 6 years in the past. It was nothing more than a stripped room, used as a dump by the people who inhabited the recesses of the abandoned building, using the intricate maze as their permanent residence. She and her people did a fine job making this mill their home.

Vicky and Sarah ate their dinner in silence, both having been around each other long enough to know that they needed some peace and quiet, to settle their thoughts.

Vicky crawled into her bed at 9:30 that evening. She killed the TV, and turned off the lights. The silky blackness of sleep overcame her easily, as she surrendered easily to its inky darkness. She shot upright in her bed about an hour after she had gone to sleep. She had felt something. Something she knew that came from her friend. She had felt it often enough back when they had just teamed up, after Vicky had aided the girl in getting rid of her abusive uncle. It had been four months since Sarah last had a nightmare about it, and both hoped that it would have been the last. But, if she was not mistaken, this was a particularly bad one, as opposed to the ones where Sarah had been able to support herself, and go back to sleep on her own. She jumped out of her bed, activated the big screen TV and the two monitors, and typed in a few commands.

She ruthlessly used her command privilege to look into Sarah's room. As she had suspected, the girl was sitting upright in her bed, her arms thrown around her knees, her entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind. Vicky terminated the connection, and turned off the monitors. She contacted Sarah telepathically. Her extension followed right behind, and she wrapped it around her friend as if a security blanket.

<<Sarah? How bad was it?>>

<<It was…>> a small moan concluded the message. Vicky's heart broke at the tone of her friend. She could feel Sarah leaning into her extension, drawing in strength from it.

<<Come over here, sweetie. Let me help you. You don't have to play tough with me, you know that.>> She squeezed her extension slightly, letting the girl know she was not alone, that Vicky was right there with her.

<<Thanks, Vick.>> Vicky could feel Sarah's presence move through the corridor. Their rooms were adjacent, greatly simplifying things. Vicky didn't know if her friend would be able to keep herself together long enough to walk too far.

Sarah walked down the hallway, basking in the warmth of her friend's extension. She had to use every bit of her strength not to lose herself, as she basked in the warmth, and love of her friend. To her, an extension is virtually identical to the real body, and it made her feel she was not alone. Her friend was supporting her; until she felt her feet leave the ground.

Vicky was doing everything she could for her friend, her extension wrapped firmly around the girl's body, supporting it, comforting it, letting the girl know that Vicky was there for her. Then, she could feel Sarah leaning more and more into the warm embrace, and Vicky knew that Sarah was about to break. Gently, ever so gently, she picked the girl up in her extension, floating her down the hall. It must have been a bad one, if the small walk from her room to mine is too much for her. Vicky thought.

The door opened as she pressed the door controls, allowing her to bring Sarah inside. The door closed immediately afterward, while Vicky settled the girl down on her bed. Immediately, she replaced the extension with her own body. As if realizing only now that she was no longer in public, Sarah allowed herself release. Her arms came up, and around Vicky's body, while she buried her face in Vicky's chest.

Vicky held on to her friend's sobbing form, whispering soothing words into her ear, letting her know that everything was all right. It didn't matter what she said, but it mattered how she said it. Sarah, on the other hand, clung to Vicky's body as a life preserver.

For long minutes, the girl sobbed and cried in the strong embrace of her friend. Finally, the girl settled down, and broke the embrace not long afterward. With tear-stung eyes, she looked at her friend.

"God, I must look like a mess," the girl moaned.

"Sarah, sweetie, when you have a nightmare like this, what you look like is not my concern," Vicky joked. Despite the strong emotions, the girl laughed.

"Thanks for being there, Vicky," Sarah said, her voice sincere.

"Sarah, remember what I told you back then?"

"That you were there for me?"

"My exact words were, if I'm not mistaken, 'I will always be there for you. Day or night, when you feel like talking, my door will be open.' " Vicky quoted herself.

Sarah nodded, and hugged her friend. This time the hug was not out of necessity, but out of gratitude. "Come, you are drenched in sweat. Let's get you cleaned up, ok?" Vicky pulled the girl upright, and gently opened the top of the girl's pajamas. After pushing the jacket over the girl's shoulders, and getting her up on her feet, Sarah dropped her pajama pants.

Leading the girl over to the shower, Vicky put her arm around the naked girl, giving the tense shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Vicky turned on the shower, and said: "By the time I'm finished with you, you'll be like new."

Sarah nodded, and got under the shower, the warm water cascading over her tense body. She never understood how Vicky managed to get such precise temperatures out of the shower.

After her shower, and Sarah reached for one of the fluffy towels, Vicky stopped her. She took the towel herself, and helped the wet girl out from under the shower. Gently massaging the tense body, she dried her friend off. Sarah, meanwhile, moaned her agreement with the treatment. She could feel the kinks disappearing like snow in the sun.

Vicky guided the girl over to her bed, and eased her down on her tummy. "Let me give you a backrub," Vicky said. "It has always helped before."

Sarah nodded, and could feel Vicky's strong hands dance over her back. Sarah had found out soon after they had met that Vicky's research had other uses as well. Vicky's knowledge of the nerve centers allowed her to ease and soothe. Sarah relaxed under her friend's expert grip.

"You know, Sar, if you feel like talking, I'm here for you," Vicky suggested.

"It was terrible, Vick. I was back… there. I think I was around 6… and my uncle came into my room, drunk, and he…and he…"

Vicky could have slapped herself, she could feel the tenseness return to her friend's back. "Shh, Sar, it's alright. You're here, safe, I won't let anything happen to you."

Sarah twisted, indicating she wanted to get up, and Vicky lifted herself from her positioning, spread over her friend's butt, allowing her access to the girl's back. The girl turned around, and hugged Vicky.

"I know. I feel safe, too. That's why I can tell you things…"

Vicky hugged her friend back, and she lifted both of them in the air, turning them around. She positioned herself against the wall, allowing for a support of her back. She eased the girl down onto her, drawing her in for a supportive hug. She liked being close to her friend like this, and Sarah felt the same way. She rested her head on her strong friend's torso, her arms around the strong and muscular body.

Vicky's arms were loosely around the girl, letting Sarah know that she was not alone, while at the same time, allowing her to move when she wanted to. It didn't take long before Vicky detected the rhythmic breathing of her friend's sleep. Smiling, she made her extension as soft and as fluffy as she could manage, and wrapped the girl in it. Positioning the sleeping girl on the other side of the two-person bed, and under the covers, Vicky crawled under the covers herself. Soon, she was asleep as well, with the warm body of her best friend close to her.

Vicky woke up, feeling the warm body of her friend in the bed with her. She opened her eyes, and looked at the sleeping 14-year-old. Quietly, she got out of the bed, and got under the hot shower, after closing the bathroom door and shedding her pajamas. The hot water did wonders for her body. She finished washing up, got dressed her in usual black outfit, and walked out the door. Vicky walked down the hall to the mess, where she got herself a nice cup of coffee, as well as a bowl of cereal. She thought back at a time when she didn't care for breakfast, but that changed after her voyage to Japan. Vicky smiled as she remembered her time in Japan.

"What's got you so happy this morning?"  Sarah dumped herself into the chair on the other side of the table, putting her own plate and cup of coffee down. Vicky grinned as she saw the light-brownish liquid that was Sarah's coffee: with lots of milk and probably three sugars. No, considering the night they had gone through, it was very likely that the girl had taken four of the sweet lumps.

"Just remembering how Japan changed my view on breakfast," Vicky said to her friend. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, now. Thanks for-" Vicky cut her off with a hand motion. "You're my friend, and friends help one another," Vicky said, "All that's important is that you're feeling better."

Sarah just smiled slightly. This was one of those rare occasions where her mask fell, and her true feelings were allowed to surface in public. Her true emotions shone through, a look of eternal gratitude on her face. Vicky, without a second thought, dropped her own mask as well, allowing the girl to see that she was just glad to be able to help. As soon as the masks had been dropped, however, they rose back, and both girls hid their true emotions from the rest of the world.

Finishing up, they deposited their dishes, and walked to Johansson's room. He was brutally awakened, and he was herded along to the mess, where he was given breakfast. Having slept in his clothes that night, Johansson didn't look that fresh, but neither Vicky nor Sarah paid any attention to that fact. After breakfast, Johansson was herded back into his room, and Vicky and Sarah planted themselves back on their chairs.

"Now, where was I?" Vicky asked no one in particular. "Oh, yeah. I had just discovered my gifts," she said. 

"So, I came home after humiliating that guy, and getting out of the damn school," she began. "I laid on bed for hours after I got home and after I had changed my clothes. Now that I was alone, I set my mind free of the 'appearing normal' inhibition, and it reeled into full activity. I searched in my, even if I say so myself, rather extensive knowledge, for anything that could help me, or at least help me identify what this power was. I came up empty-handed. I decided I had to do more extensive testing."

"I went out, and decided to test it. I walked into a computer shop, and walked right up to the clerk. I asked him for the most powerful portable computer they had. After he showed it to me, I told him to forget he ever saw it, and I felt that tingle again. I took the computer, and asked him what it was. He was in awe, telling me it was one of the fastest machines available. After I asked him if he had seen one like it before, he responded that he hadn't. Imagine my surprise, when I could just walk out of the store with that baby," Vicky grinned from ear to ear.

"It had a Transmeta mobile Epsilon3 chip, running at 1000Mhz," Vicky clarified, adding that one little detail to explain why she called the laptop a 'baby'. Johansson just nodded in understanding.

"The first thing I did was connect to the Internet, and surf to every security site I had ever read about. Most were down, since most of the Net was destroyed in the war. Unfortunately, most of my Internet knowledge predated the war. A few sites were operational however, and those have been the sources of my security material. My War Journal, my dairy," she explained," wasn't more than a directory with text files, encrypted by a 1024-bit omega-encryption, but that would change not long after…after I had assimilated C++ and Assembly code."

"It was then that I began the construction of a plan. But first I needed to know how far my Power extended. For that reason, I decided on keeping my abilities a secret for as long as I was able."

Johansson's thoughts raced. Her sense of right and wrong had been completely shoved aside...she steals the moment she can. No wonder she's this way.

"The next day, I walked back into the school building. The students retreated as I appeared. I looked even more confident than before. My black clothing and my black hair contrasting to the steel-hard blue eyes I had seen in the mirror. I think that my powers had boosted my confidence tremendously, hence the cold hardness in my eyes. The students shivered when I laid my eyes on them. Eyes that seemed to burn down into the very core of their very souls when I looked upon them. At least, that's the impression I got from their reactions."

"But then again, I was no longer interested in the students. I had discovered how to use my powers, and I didn't care that I was still clumsy with them. If I wanted something, I would have it, as soon as I ordered it."

"I began the assimilation of C++ that very same day. The fools thought that I was of moderate intelligence. In the first grade, when I noticed I was smarter than the rest, I held back, because I thought it would help me fit in. After I found out that it didn't, I kept up the act of being average. Never let the rest know who or what you really are. This is one of the wisest lessons I had learned. Knowledge is power, and to be unknown is to be invincible."

"Did I tell you I even did an IQ test in a magazine once?" Vicky asked the psychotherapist. When he shook no, she continued: "The test was accurate up to 175. I finished the test in 10 minutes, instead of twenty, and had every question correct. After some research, and some other tests, I found out I had an IQ of 200. I always thought it was a beautiful round number. Coupled with the photographic memory I found out I had, assimilating knowledge isn't that hard. It became a hobby ever since I started with Marquis De Sade."

"Then, I started wondering if it were possible to learn directly from a person's memory. I would first have to learn to see a person's memories, though. It was to be one of my next tests."

Johansson looked at the two girls. No wonder she's outsmarted me. An IQ of 200, coupled with a near-photographic memory makes one smart Human. Damn, if only she had been treated better, she wouldn't have ended up like this! She could have done so many great things!

"Over the next few days, I experimented with my fellow students, further increasing my knowledge, and finding out new abilities. I could make them think what I wanted by now. I also found out that I could indeed read memories. I tried learning from them. The nature of the memories made that rather difficult, but not impossible. I did as I had set out to do. I assimilated C++, and every other piece of work I could find on the subject. By the end of the first week, I estimated that my knowledge of the programming language was up to 90%. I began working on my own programs right after that."

"Soon after, I updated my list of goals. First on the list was still my revenge, of course. Then came the creation of new programs to secure my new computer, and the logs I had put in it. Third on the list was the creation of new language to write my journals in, and to think in as well. I thought it would hinder anyone trying to read my mind. I also stipulated a further analysis of my newfound telekinetic abilities, and to assess the possibility of training my body as well as my mind," Vicky listed.

"I found my telekinetic abilities were difficult to control. I used too much force to move an object. It was very frustrating. What I did seem to notice was the power floating from my body towards the target of my telekinetic efforts. I found that further investigation was required."

" By that time, I had assimilated 90% of the C++ programming language, and 92% of the assembly commands and codes for the Epsilon3 chip. I knew all the theory, but I was still reading field studies and cases I had found on the Internet. I also began to scan the school for any info on the subject. Until that moment, the scan had brought forth good starting grounds, but the really difficult stuff was not to be found. I made sure my efforts would increase over the next few days."

"I also began a study on whether or not to begin training my body. So far, it seemed that I would go ahead with both martial arts and meditation. My mind was powerful, but my body was almost useless. I needed to change that, so I began assimilating knowledge on various styles of martial arts. I noted that I would include a complete list when and if I made my decision."

"I found out I could read minds, and that it feels like it is an extra sense. I was scared to death that anyone would be able to read me, however. I needed to protect myself, and I constructed an obstruction field. Basically, it would shatter any probe trying to enter my mind. The sensors I deployed to scan for probes required a lot of power, and it seriously hindered my telekinetic training."

"That was the reason why I would like to encrypt my thoughts, so I wouldn't have to keep myself guarded all the time. I wasn't sure whether or not it would work. I hoped so," Vicky told the man.

"Not long after, when I was updating my log, I heard someone tapping at my door. 'Who is it?' I asked, closing the laptop, and shoving it under my bed. I looked at the small monitor, and I saw that it was Leen, but I asked anyway, to appear normal. Nobody knew about my powers, or the camera hidden outside my bedroom door, and I wanted to keep it that way."

" 'It's Leen. Can we talk, Vick?' the voice of my sister calmed my nerves somewhat. I didn't know why, but it did. So, I hid the monitor with the small cover, and answered: 'Sure. Come in.' I made sure that the door was unlocked."

" Leen entered my bedroom, and sat down on the chair, facing me, while I remained laying on the bed."

" 'Are you okay? You're so isolated.' She was inquiring again, and it frustrated me. A lot."

" 'I'm fine. And there's nothing wrong with me.' I almost-snapped at her."

" 'I heard you got a guy to apologize a couple of days ago. What happened?' "

" Damn. I didn't make them forget. Too late now. I thought. I didn't move a finger, however. I responded casually. 'I didn't do anything special. Just glared at him.' "

" 'Vick, it's me, remember? I know just as well as you do that there is more.' "

" 'There is, and I'm not going to tell you. Ever heard of a concept called 'privacy'?' I snapped at her."

" 'Come on, tell me!' Leen begged. "

" 'Leentje, you're to stop this right now, or someone will get hurt, and it won't be me!' My voice rose to a dangerous shout, and Leen had the stupid idea of trying to stand up to me. Without any more words, I ejected Leen from her room, causing a few cuts and bruises. I was happy to be rid of her, but I was also relived that I had a little more control over my powers. I could have reduced her to a bloody pulp if I had smashed her into the wall too hard."

"Mom and dad where dumbstruck. So far, I had only used glaring and staring tactics, but this was brute physical force! To the best of their knowledge anyway," Vicky said, grinning. Sarah grinned along with her friend at this. It was clear she thought that Leen had gotten exactly what she deserved.

"So, they grounded me, for weeks. I didn't care. I did what I wanted anyway. Now that I had used my powers physically for the first time, it was as if I were addicted to the sense of power it had given me."

"I decided that conditioning my body as well as my mind was indeed the best choice. So, I looked for viable martial arts I could train myself in. Unfortunately, I would have to divert my course of action for a few months."

"I found out that martial arts were not viable at the time. I first needed to build up my strength and stamina. It was a setback, but not one that would irreparably damage my goals. It just added time, and time is something I had enough of for the moment."

"To accomplish this new goal, I joined a fitness center, equipped with state-of-the art equipment. There were also aerobics and similar programs I could follow to get my body in shape before tangling with martial arts."

"I scheduled for myself three physical workouts a week, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Endurance training on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in the form of running exercises, and aerobics courses."

"I also scheduled a Yoga class on Saturdays, to allow my mind and body the complete relaxation they needed after a week of training."

"By now, my attempts at the security program were going nicely. I estimated that I would be ready by the time the week was over, if there weren't too many bugs in it. I estimated that there would be 1% error in the code, giving me an extra 5 hours of debugging. Since I was by now only taking 1 class a day, free time to work on the code wasn't a problem."

"The only problem I could foresee was Leen. I had to find a way to make sure she would stay out of my business. As for the grounded part, what my parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them. For some reason, I was unable to reprogram them, but they thought I was going to school like a nice girl every day."

"I only went to school one hour, and skipped the rest. I just assimilated my courses, and I also had someone call me if there was a big test coming. The other hours I had off, I did my physical training. When at home, I worked on the security program."

"I did have a small problem with the large bill for the international ISP I had to call to connect me to the intact Internet satellite backbone. I had to do almost half the phone company's people before they would pay for the ISP charges themselves, instead of billing them to my parents. It suited them well, the greedy bastards."

"The only one who could cause problems for my Saturday training, Leen, had been taken care of. I told the brat that, if she ever blabbed, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She was terrified, and promised not to tell," Vicky said, a grin playing across her face.

"You know, I'm getting thirsty," Vicky said. "I've been telling for what, 2 hours now? I could use a drink. What do you guys say?"

"I'll get them. The usual?" Sarah asked. Vicky nodded, and Sarah looked at Johansson. "What'll it be?" she asked, her voice halfway between friendly and hostile.

"Uhm… water's fine," the man said, trembling at the harshness in her voice.

"Sarah, down, girl. You're spooking him," Vicky grinned at her friend, letting her know she didn't actually mind. Sarah gave a crooked grin back, and disappeared. Not long after, she got back, bearing a tray. She put a big glass, containing some strange looking fluid, down on the table next to Vicky. She took a glass containing something whiskey-like for herself, and put the glass with the mineral water down for Johansson to reach.

Vicky took her glass, sniffed it, and let out a contented sigh. She put it at her mouth, and took four big gulps. Johansson looked strangely at her.

"Irish Kegbomb," Vicky explained, looking at her glass. When Johansson still didn't react, she sighed deeply, and continued, "One half Guinness over one half Bass, and two shots of Absolut Vodka. It's real potent stuff. Most people slide after only three of these, while I can slam down five," Vicky said, obviously proud of herself. Sarah just quietly sipped her whiskey. Johansson didn't want to think about the fact that a 14-year-old was drinking whiskey. He just drank greedily from his mineral water.

Finally, Vicky continued, "At school, for the one hour I actually went to that hell-hole, everybody avoided me like the plague. My attitude increased even further because of my physical strength, which was increasing steadily. I glared at everybody making a wrong move."

"One day I completed all the tests on the Backaert Security System. It had varied encryptions, going from 2048-bits to a whopping 100-kilobyte encryption. Needless to say, this takes an enormous amount of processor power to encrypt. My access code was 80 digits long, including numbers, letters, special symbols and function keys. There is no way someone could get into it."

"The BSS worked admirably, and its modular construction enabled me to expand the encryption levels when more processor power became available. I would like to see the person able to crack the 100k- Backaert encryption. It took me a long time to develop."

"In case of a level-one breach, the program has an ultimate security program: after three attempts to crack the code, the program will completely destroy all info on the hard drive, overwrite the entire disk, wipe it again, and then completely scramble the RAM by filling the entire memory with garbage. Even though it may not be damaging to the hardware, it does guarantee as much as 99% security. It would take a long time with a lot of very expensive hardware to recover something. And even then, I have serious doubts about the usefulness of the recovered information."  

"I went through my days without problems. I trained, lost some weight, and all the time, my mental powers increased proportionally to my muscle strength and my endurance. Even my parents noticed my changes as I became more and more sure of myself. I still wasn't able to contain myself back then, and people could read me easily. My parents couldn't exactly pin it down, but they thought that I was ...different."

"Thanks to my intelligence and my resolve to become the best I could be, my training progressed at a steady pace. I didn't lose that much weight, mostly because I was converting fat into muscle, but I did notice that I was feeling better all the time. It would still require months to get down to my ideal weight, but I was sure not to let people find out too soon, and did whatever I could to do just that. But, as I said, I was still a rookie at the game then, and thus I wasn't good at it."

"Then, one day, something strange happened. A strange fellow contacted me. What was even stranger, he was immune to my mind! The conversation went like this:"

" 'I am Steven Boelens. Can we talk for a moment?' The man approached me when I had just left school."

" 'I guess. What about?' I couldn't read his mind, like I could with the others, and it puzzled me. It puzzled me big time."

" 'About your abilities,' he said."

"I was scared now. What would he do? I decided to bluff. 'What abilities?' It filled me with pride that I gave no outwards signs of my inner fear."

" 'Don't be scared. I won't hurt you.' He seemed to read my mind. My obstruction field did nothing to stop this guy! I kicked in the special language I had been working on, and his face got a strange look on it."

" 'I have an IQ of 200. Never underestimate me. This language makes it a little hard to understand me, doesn't it?' I asked in perfect Dutch, while my mind stayed in the alternate language. I grinned as his discomfort."

" 'I am not here to hurt you. I am here to offer you the benefit of our knowledge about the Ability.' He looked at me, and he grinned back."

" 'So that's what you call this? The Ability? Fine. You want to offer me your knowledge. So, what do I have to do in return? And what are you grinning about?' I asked, making sure my thoughts kept in the language as much as possible. It was hard, as the language wasn't completely finished, but I kept it up."

" 'The membership is free, but you will be required to come live with us in Brussels for eight to ten weeks, so we can train you. And I am grinning because I found the translator. I just tapped into that.' "

" 'Damn,' I said, and dropped the encryption. It didn't work! I would have to revise my plans to keep my mind my own then. 'So, when do I leave?' "

" 'In July,' he said."

" 'July, huh? I don't see where that would be a problem. I do have to bring an aerobics instructor along. I need to train my body as well as my mind,' I said, trying to provoke the guy into revealing something he shouldn't: rules. 'And I trust that there is a fully-stocked gym available?' "

" 'We have a gym, and the instructor is not a problem,' the man said. 'I'll be over to your house so your parents can sign the papers. Not that that'll be a problem, right?'"

" 'Right. Fine. Come on Saturday, around 3 in the afternoon,' I said, turned and left the guy."

"The next Saturday, Steven dropped off the papers for the 'summer camp', and left right after. He said he had some more business to attend to. I just shrugged and went back in the house. I had tried to convince her parents, but for some strange reason, I was still unable to alter them. It concerned me, and not some minor bit either, but I had other tricks up my sleeve: like whining, pleading and begging."

" 'Mom? Can I go to summer camp?' I asked mother while she was making dinner. I had found out that distractions often got me what I wanted."

" 'Camp? What kind of camp?' mother asked, while continuing to make dinner."

" 'Computer camp.' I lied. 'In Brussels, for two months.' I added. I felt perfectly comfortable in my role, and I immediately recognized it as a more comfortable, but similar, experience to the one I experienced with the psychiatrist all those years ago."

" 'I see. Two months is an awful long time, honey.' "

" 'Come on, Mom! It's free, and I really want to go!'  I pleaded."

" 'Free? What kind of camp is this?' she was curious now. I had to bluff my way out."

" 'I told you, computer camp. They want me, because they saw I'm good at it.' my bluff was working perfectly!"

" 'Let's talk about this tonight, after your father gets home.' mother ended the conversation. I nodded, and walked into my room."

" Once in my room, I went over the recent events. I opened my mind completely, allowing it to go over what had happened with mother. After dinner, I came to the following conclusions:"

"My acting abilities had continued to evolve. I once used them to convince Rosenberg, but I was mighty uncomfortable doing it. Now I found out that I could use them without reprisal whatsoever...on my OWN PARENTS! I realized that the possibilities were phenomenal. I had managed to convince my parents to let me go to 'computer camp'. I contacted Steven, and he told me he'd pick me up on the first. That left me 5 more months to learn to set my act up for a prolonged time. I would try to set up a cover, one that would follow the rules and not cause too much trouble. But I would also need to remain thoughtful of what I was doing, so I could use my abilities for revenge later on."

"I realized my powers can be used for more than just combat, but back then, I would focus my mind as I did my body: on combat and related topics. Everything that might help me with my revenge would be used and implemented."

"Marquis de Sade was right. The only way for a human to live is in total selfishness. I would lie, steal, cheat, and threaten to get what I want. I would get my revenge on the bullies and on the rest of society for abandoning me. I vowed to help those who deserve it, souls with the same problems I have or have had, and I would do so with every fiber of my being and with every bit of my mental strength. Those who resist would become the targets of my arsenal of skills. Which was still not very extensive at the moment, but it was better than nothing."

"My weight had reached a still too fat 60 kilograms, but I was getting closer to the forty-five kilograms I had in mind. I acquired a pair of contact lenses to get rid of the thick glasses. My muscles were increasing in strength and flexibility on an almost daily basis. I needed to make sure that my parents didn't uncover this too soon. I needed to be able to stick it out until AFTER the 'camp'."

Vicky finished her Irish Kegbomb, and put the glass back on the small table. She continued her story.

"I had by now begun to use my powers and my abilities for more than just to acquire what I wanted. I began with the hellhole called a school. I used my laptop to break into the school records, but ran into a wall when I tried to find the bullies from grade school. All the records had been destroyed in the War. I just added a few remarks that would go into my present bullies' permanent records, and I logged off."

" 'Damn,' I said. 'I guess I'll have to interview the teachers for the other bullies then.' I got up, closed the laptop, and walked to the teacher's lounge."

" 'What are you doing, here, Miss Backaert? You are not allowed-' "

" 'Everyone shut up and sit down!' I yelled, and the present teachers and the headmaster fell back in the seats they had come out of not so long ago. The force of the mental command was extensive."

"I scanned them for info on the bullies. I found three quarters of the boys and girls I had been looking for. 'You can speak again, and get up in ten minutes!' I shouted, and walked out of the school. I jogged to the fitness center, and arrived there panting. My endurance still wasn't as high as I wanted. I cooled down a little, and then proceeded with some strength exercises."

"On my way home, the burning in my mind had eased a little, but not enough. I needed to let loose, but that would attract attention, attention I didn't need right now. But I also knew that the burning in my mind, the urge for release, would not go away. Then, it hit me, with the force of a sledgehammer! The old harbor site in Ghent had been abandoned since the War. The only people there were thugs, they wouldn't call in the cops. I jogged at a gentle pace to the harbor, and disappeared in the myriad of warehouses and abandoned factories next to it."

"When I reached the river Schelde, I was grinning. To my left, there was an old dock, to my right, an abandoned warehouse. Directly in front of me was the Schelde flowing leisurely. My grin became more elaborate, and I knew it. It was as it had always been: when I was alone, I allowed my emotions to surface. It was then that I was truly dangerous, as I would do anything to make sure that no one had ever seen me like this."

"My mind reeled as I raised my head to the skies, and cried. The crying alone did nothing, but the drop of all emotional control and mental shields DID. Blasting at no target in particular, my telekinetic abilities radiated outward from my body. I could feel the large drain on my mind, but it was nothing painful. It was a liberating experience, just venting steam. In front of me, the waters of the Schelde raged and foamed as my powers blasted into it."

"To my right, the old dock collapsed, creating even more raging in the water. The concrete and steel structure that had withstood the War and the forces of nature since then now broke like a twig. It literally snapped."

"My eyes darted to my left, and the warehouse roof was catapulted of the walls. It came down several hundred meters back, on top of another building. The walls of the now decapitated building fell down as if it was a house of cards."

"I stopped crying, and I sat down at the only docking pillar in several dozens of meters that had survived the onslaught. I looked at the now calm waters, and found peace in my now emptied mind. All the cooped up emotions of the past seven years, ever since first grade, had been brought to the surface in one fell swoop, and burned out of my mind at the same time."

"I slowly got up, and jogged home. Mother, being used to my strange behavior by now, didn't question my late arrival. I walked up the stairs, almost floating, and disappeared into my room. Once alone, I put the laptop on my bed, opened it, and booted it."

"My fingers put the info I had gained from the teacher's minds into my War Journal, along with preliminary plans on how to deal with the bullies I had already gotten info on. They varied in intensity from just plain 'kick the shit out of them' to 'what is the most painful way to die?'. I must have grinned savagely as I imagined the faces of my ex-tormentors."

Johansson was pale. The realization of how dangerous she truly was was beginning to sink in. If she were able to do that with an untrained mind, what would it be with a trained one? He had realized that they were psionics, both Vicky and Sarah, but up until now he hadn't realized just how dangerous they were.

Vicky continued the story, ignoring Johansson's pale face.

"Over the next few weeks, I started implementing my preliminary plans. This included programs in the local police force, among others. I started with the bullies that had been gone the longest. It was always best to use the effect of shock. They wouldn't know who was targeting them, since it was safe to bet that they had since long forgotten about me."

"I put my revenge into action, beginning with minor inconveniences and working my way up. I ordered ten pizzas to one guy's house at the middle of the night, and I had another one's phone and electricity disconnected. A third's mail was forwarded to an address in Guatemala. My pranks grew worse for them, but better for me."

"So, This was the first part. The one in which you got to know me. We'll continue tomorrow, in which you'll hear about my camp experiences, and how I met Sarah, among other things," Vicky got up, took her empty glass, and walked out the door with only a curt nod as good-bye.

"A guard will bring you some food," Sarah said, taking her own empty glass, and disappeared as well. Johansson could hear the door being locked as he sank back onto his bed, his entire body shaking. Vicky was a contradiction. It was impossible that someone who would go after her bullies with such a vengeance, and use her abilities with such a disregard for other people's property, could actually care enough to help those in need!

But then he realized that she was just telling she would help, he had yet to see one shred of evidence that she would actually help them.