If there was one organization that Jorge Cervantes had never thought he would hear again, it was the Everlasting Eye of God. Jorge was finally back, back on the job and ready to contribute to society and regain some of his livelihood. It was his first day back in the MRC and while he didn’t think it would be an easy time, the last thing he expected as to see that cursed name sitting on a file on his desk. The last time he had dealt with these fanatics, a certain young mutant, Agnes Nicholas, had come forward with evidence of their cruelty. It was enough to lock her parents away for twenty lifetimes.

However, they weren’t the only ones. It seemed that the Church of the Everlasting Eye of God had more followers than he would have liked to admit. They had laid low after the arrest and judgment of Agnes’ parents but that didn’t mean that they were being inactive. If anything, they were just getting smarter about their actions.

It was a thick file, one that was filled with reports of mutants who have reported mysterious strangers approaching them, admonishing those with visible mutations, and harassing those that were merely suspected. The reports started simple enough with verbal comments, sly and under the breath, but had taken on a whole new dimension when a mutant with lizard-like features was jumped and pulled into an alley where he was beaten within an inch of his life and then harshly branded – the same kind that Agnes had suffered.

They were getting bold and they were going to start taking their actions to the next level. The man couldn’t let that happen but where to begin? So far these people were like ghosts, appearing in an alley and vanishing within the blink of an eye. No one really knew how they were doing it but considering his last run-in with that crazed family, all he could assume was that there was a mutant that was brainwashed or being coerced to work with them. Damn it.

What Jorge needed was an angle to attack this from. The reports and investigation were turning up nothing and though Agnes’ parents were in custody, they were not saying anymore. Besides, there was really nothing else for them to report as this faction didn’t seem work within the true doctrines that the Nicholases seemed to abide by. Now, this was a new group and besides, Jorge may have had a better source to turn to.

---

Knock, Knock, Knock The man stood outside the somewhat upscale apartment of Agnes Nicholas, violinist for the New York Philharmonic. When she answered, the man gave her a soft, albeit sad, smile. ”Hey kiddo. Long time no see.”

It had been awhile since Agnes had felt this cold. The last time she did, she could remember distinctively sitting on a bench outside the courthouse, wearing somewhat nice clothing. She was there to testify about the abuse she had suffered from her parents. Abuse that had been cruel, and agonizing, and drove her out into the streets where she lived a hopeless and homeless existence for several years. When she had finally found her home with Xavier’s Sister School, she had vowed that she was never going to think or talk about her parents again. And then they came and found her.

Oh that was a hard day. They had tried to take her from the school, proclaiming that she needed to be killed to prevent the coming of the Horsemen of Pestilence. It was insanity, really, but Agnes had been so fearful. Thankfully, with the intervention of friends and new family, she had been saved. She was rescued from her parents and they were finally going to be sent to jail for the rest of their lives. Still, sitting on that bench, knowing what she was going to have to face, it still chilled her down to her very soul. But it would be over soon, she’d never have to see or hear about them again.

At least that was what she thought.

When Agnes had received the phone call from Detective Cervantes, she had momentarily feared that maybe something had happened to Rebecca (before she remembered that they weren’t together anymore). But when the detective had mentioned the name of her old church, the Everlasting Eye of God, Agnes couldn’t help the shiver that rolled down her spine. It seemed that her assumptions that they were out of her life were wrong.

She had agreed to meet the detective. He just wanted to talk. He had assured her that her parents were still safely rotting away in jail, but there was a matter they needed to discuss. Agnes agreed, giving Jorge her address. Afterwards the young woman found herself pacing her apartment, spot cleaning, and trying to keep her body hot in order to stop shivering. What was worst was the buzzing that kept echoing from her chest. Her insects…they were disturbed, they knew something was wrong with her and wanted to defend. But there was no enemy to defend her from.

When the knocking came to her door, Agnes jumped and dropped her broom. She sighed as she plucked it up and set it against the wall of her kitchen. She was dressed simply in jeans and an oversized white sweater and hung off one shoulder and revealed the hot pink colored tanktop she wore underneath. Trying to regain control of herself, she answered the door and smiled at the man on the other side.

Jorge Cervantes had always been a handsome man. Even though Agnes wasn’t interested in men, she had a definitive idea of what “handsome” mean. The detective was dressed in jeans, a black shirt and a leather jacket that he seemed to always wear. He was older now, hair grayed a bit more, and yet still he had that kindness in his eyes that aided Agnes through her worst moments. It was good to see him.

>> ”Hey kiddo. Long time no see.”

Agnes said nothing as she suddenly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. ”Hey detective. It’s good to see you.” When the hug was broke, she stepped back and waved for him to enter her apartment. She was both happy to see him but a little fearful of what he wanted from her. ”Please, come in. Um, do you want any tea or coffee? Water?” Agnes moved into the room and wandered in deeper, stopping at her kitchen as she started to add a tea pod to her single-serve machine. With a deep breath she grabbed a couple of mugs. She could do this…

Jorge smiled a bit warmly when he was pulled into the hug. Agnes had to have been one of his most memorable cases, mainly because he had interacted with her so much before and after what had happened. She had the mind of joining the X-Men but apparently couldn’t see it through to the end. Not that he could blame her, it was an organization that required almost everything from an individual and Agnes clearly had other plans for her life. After they had broken the hug and he stepped inside, he had to marvel a little at her apparent success.

The apartment was very chic, probably not what the watermancer would have assumed for someone whom he knew had lived on the streets for a good portion of her life. But for as surprising as it was, it also warmed him to know that she had managed to find some happiness in her life, some success that she could hold onto. Heading inside, he turned only when Agnes inquired if he wanted anything to drink.

”Oh, well, coffee if you don’t mind,” Jorge replied.

As Agnes busied herself with preparing their beverages, Jorge found himself wandering around her apartment, casually looking at the odds and ends. There weren’t many photos and there were plenty of empty spaces all around, as if things used to be there. However, he did manage to find one photograph that looked very sweet. It was Agnes with her arms wrapped around another woman with bronze skin and flowing black hair. On her finger he could clearly see the ring that sat there. Engaged? It also didn’t escape his notice that this woman was decidedly not the Rebecca Grey he remembered. Either she had a hell of a plastic surgery overhaul…or Agnes was seeing someone else.

Tragic. He remembered the two of them together. They had been so sweet and caring for one another. The desperation that Agnes displayed at Rebecca’s disappearance at the hands of the Ragman just seemed to relate how much she cared for her. To know that they didn’t stay together forever after that, well, it was sad but also not surprising. When you’re that young, it always feels like it is going to be forever but it rarely was.

When Agnes returned from the kitchen with mugs of steaming hot beverages in hand, Jorge gave her a small smile as the graciously took it. As much as he wanted this reunion to just be a general catching up, it was clear from her body language that his earlier announcement had made an impact on her. Like a band-aid, it was better to just rip it off than to delay it slowly.

After she directed him to seat, Jorge found a seat on the sofa while Agnes claimed her love seat and sipped at her drink. She was visibly nervous. He sighed.

”Agnes, you know the last thing I would ever want to do is make you relive the horrible things you went through. But…I need your help,” he said. ”The Church of the Everlasting Eye of God is back…”

Agnes could feel her fingers shaking. After she had passed the drink to the detective and taken her seat, she had somewhat wanted there to be just a heavy silence between the two of them. A chance to bask in the presence of one another, of old friends, something to make it feel less traumatic than she knew it was going to be. But that wasn’t the direction that the detective took. After she had sipped her tea, the man wasted no words as he immediately brought up the subject that he had mentioned to her over the phone. Her parents old church had resurfaced.

Back when she was at the trial, her parents shot her scolding looks, as if in their minds they were trying to exorcise her all over again. Her mother had even gone so far as to cause an outburst by shouting that Agnes was the devil and lying about everything that she was saying. Thankfully, or rather unthankfully, the young runaway still had her scars to prove everything was true. It had to be one of the shortest trials in history as her parents did nothing for their case with their odd behavior and ranting. Still, for as good as it felt to put them away, the fact that the church was still at large always poked at Agnes in the back of her mind. It was hard not to think about them.

And now, it seems, that her worst fears were true. All Jorge had said when he called her was that they needed to talk about her parent’s church. It wasn’t hard to make the assumption that they were starting to reveal themselves again, but in what capacity Agnes wasn’t sure. Now with confirmation from the detective, Agnes could feel her heart quicken and a cold sweat dot her brow. She wanted nothing more than to stop talking about this but she knew he couldn’t.

”I…wow…” Agnes muttered. ”That’s…um…that’s unfortunate to hear. But…what does that have to do with me? I only know about my parents and they’re in jail. Surely they’ll talk?”

It seemed like a simple enough solution. Make her parents talk. Why she would have to be bothered with it, she didn’t know. But, logical, she knew that Detective Cervantes was a smart man. If he was coming to her, then it meant that her parents, for whatever the reason, were not the answer that he needed. Aside from her brother, who disappeared ages ago, Agnes could only guess that she was the next in line to be questioned. She sighed, heavily.

”I…I don’t know if I can help you…” she said gently.

The bomb was dropped. The Church of the Everlasting Eye of God was back and Agnes the person that Jorge had turned to for answers. Truth was that he really wasn’t one-hundred percent sure why he was talking to her. Her statements were all on file from the last case so it was a simple matter to go through them. But, he knew that they wouldn’t be of help. They were focused on Agnes’ incident and primarily centered around her parents and the various players of the torture she suffered. It was a little too focused on one thing when he needed more. That “more” he would only get if he spoke with her face to face.

She had tried to defer him back to her parents but, being the smart girl that she was, it was evident on her face that that was clearly not a feasible answer. Her parents had been already contacted but as they had no communication from the outside and were basically still stark-raving mad, they wouldn’t be a viable option. What Jorge needed was someone who had been there, who had interacted with these people, and who could hopefully provide him with some kind of answer.

”I’ve tried,” Jorge admitted. ”It was useless. They don’t have connection with those people anymore and most of their old crew was round up or have died.”

Her parents weren’t in the best of shape either. It seemed that their stern beliefs had earned them copious amount of brutal beatings and negligence in the prison system. They were doing bad, last he heard, Agnes mother in particularly seemingly suffering from dementia now in her old age. Ironically, underneath the psychotic episodes, she still called for the death of her daughter. But those were facts that didn’t need to be shared – not unless he was asked.

>> ”I…I don’t know if I can help you…”

Jorge felt immensely bad but he knew that he couldn’t leave here without at least asking if she would try to remember it. Those were some of the worst points in her life, how could he ask her to do such a thing? It was horrendous but it was also part of his job, an aspect that, while if made him uncomfortable, he still performed despite it. Shaking his head, he took a sip of his coffee. She makes a good cup, way to make him feel worse.

”I’m sorry but…I have nothing to go on.” He sighed, and let the cup warm his hands before he continued. ”I hate that I am asking you to think about something so terrible, but…people are getting hurt, Agnes.” he caught her gaze. ’Just like you. The church is getting bolder and it’s only a matter of time before someone ends up dead. Of course, I won’t push you. If it’s something you truly believe that you just can’t do, okay? I will end the discussion here. But…” he hated his skills as a cop sometimes. ”…I could really use your help.”

Agnes chewed on her bottom lip in thought. Jorge admitted that he had attempted to contact her parents but they were of no use. Vaguely she wondered how they were doing but, deep down, she knew that she didn’t care. After what they had done to her, they didn’t so much as deserve a second thought from her. And while she knew it wasn’t right, part of her had hoped that the reason they were unhelpful was because they were dead. Of course she wouldn’t tell Jorge that and, instead, stopped thinking on the matter entirely. They were unreliable so he contacted her.

She always remembered Jorge as a good and strong man. He investigated her childhood home, he had discovered some of the most atrocious secrets about her parents, and he had orchestrated for their capture. The man had a way with words as he passionately spoke against them at their trail and almost single handedly won the jury over. Unfortunately when those powers of persuasion were used against her, it was an entirely different experience.

Deep down, Agnes didn’t know what she would do about helping him. She could have easily just said no and left it at that, but the idea that the Church was running around startled and frightened her. It was only compounded by what the detective said, saying that he needed her help.

Oh how remorseful the man sounded. In a weird way, Agnes appreciated that the man felt bad about coming to her with this. It showed that he had a soul and really cared after her well-being. If he had been short with her or uncaring, that clearly would have shaded her a different color. But now, under his almost desperate voice, and the knowledge that people were suffering in the same way that she did, that was the last weight required to tip the scales. Her sigh was deep and heavy as she felt herself opening the creaky door in her mind that she never wanted to open again.

”W-What…do you need?” she cautiously asked. She couldn’t even imagine what the man would ask for her but, either way, she was going to have to face these demons that she had long since moved passed. Though, it was amazing that just thinking about them managed to dredge up those old feelings. Maybe she wasn’t as “over it” as she had figured.

Though Jorge had felt like crap for having to ask this of Agnes, he was glad that she was going to at least try. Truth be told, it was a bit of a long shot but it was one that he was fine with taking. Long shots sometimes proved to be deciding factors during these investigations. Not all the time, mind you, but some of the time. Jorge had to make sure that he covered all of his bases if he wanted to make any headway in this case. It was several years ago, but if there was any small thing that Agnes could remember that could prove to be useful, then he was more than willing to take it.

She stammered through her reply, clearly shaken by the idea of having to think back, but it was clear that she was also willing to help. When he spoke with her so many times in the past, she had proven herself to be a caring individual. She wanted what was best for everyone and slowly managed to find her own voice. Even though such a terrible crime that was committed against her, she still managed to cobble out a life for herself, one that turned out to be a rousing success. That both spoke to her fortitude and her nature.

>>”W-What…do you need?”

She was weak as she asked him but she was boldly going to on. The man nodded, thankful for her assistance as he picked up a file that he had brought with him. ”I just need you to look at some simple pictures – drawings, actually. They left no evidence but the victims managed to give us a few faces of the individuals who had attacked them. All I want is for you to look at their faces and see if any of them look familiar. That’s all.”

Opening the folder, he had photocopies of the drawings already sitting on top, held together by a paperclip. It was all that they had to go on but it would have to prove to be enough. As he unclipped the five sheets of paper, Jorge sighed as he looked at them for a moment before he handed them off to the young violinist. He didn’t force them into her hand but waited for her to take them of her own free will. After she did, he sat back in his seat and took another sip of coffee.

Bad. Again, he felt bad for making her do this. But, she was his only lead right now and it was a lead that he had to take…

Agnes had to take a deep, shaky breath before she finally reached out and took the drawings from the kindly detective’s hand. She had been scared that there was more he was going to ask from her but that seemed like it was the lesser of any of the evils he could have asked her to commit. It was a simple request, really, too look at images and see if any of them were familiar. Despite the bad memories that they may trigger, it was still something that she would put herself through. She didn’t want to remember, but she didn’t want anyone else to hurt either.

Casually she crossed her legs as she took the pictures in hand and pulled them close to her. Her sapphire eyes roamed over the first image, a black and white sketch of a bald man with fierce looking eyes. She looked it over for a few moments before she shook her head that he wasn’t familiar and passed it back to Jorge. She wasn’t going fast with investigating these either, she was taking her time and trying to dig through her deepest, darkest memories. First she skirted around directly remembering her exorcism but gradually she focused in on it more.

It was terrible. The feeling that swept over her as she peered at the photographs. It was just monstrous to think of what her parents had done to her, of what their followers were apparently continuing to do to others. If they were really suffering like she was, she could only imagine the mental trauma they were undergoing. The berating, the neglect, the pain and the humiliation – it was enough to make Agnes choke a little. She was quickly getting derailed though as she pulled up the next picture.

This was one was of a woman with short, curly hair. She was older, at least twice as old as Agnes. While there was a vague familiarity about her face, it was more on the vein that she just had one of those faces, not that she was involved in her own exorcism. She shook her head again as she passed the photo back to the detective, moving onto the third.

The third was the same as the last two. An unfamiliar face stared back at her, willing her remember her trauma but having no connection to it. This man was older with a thick beard. She tried to imagine his face without the beard but nothing came to mind – it was just another blank expression.

”I’m sorry,” she whispered. ”I don’t think I’m being much help.” After he took the third picture back, Agnes looked at the fourth and instantly she felt icy claw roll up her spine. A tear came to her eye as she stared at it, the face of an African-American man, older, with glasses and a mustache. She recognized him almost instantly and she felt a shiver run down her spine. She nodded as she turned the picture around to show Jorge. ”I…I remember him. Allister Berry. H-He…um…used to work for my dad. I dunno what he did but he hung on his every word. He was…very loyal.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek. She remembered his face as clear as it was yesterday. He was there during her exorcism. As a matter of fact, he was one of the ones who came to her room to get her, held her, and tied her into place. At the time they were all just faces to her but after so long, ironically, they had become memorable. She could describe each person that was there and of these pictures, she recognized the drawing of Allister Berry most. She gulped as she looked back to the detective, handing him the picture. He should need anything else from her.

”I…I hope that hel…” she stopped. She stared at the last drawing as hard as anyone could stare at anything. There was a shaky moment before she whispered only two words, ”…my god…”

For a moment it seemed that he was just taking up the young woman’s time. As she looked through each of the drawings, he was met with a disappointing look of unfamiliarity in the young woman’s face as she passed each one back to him. He really didn’t want to think like he was wasting her time but it was a façade of this case that he had to investigate. He had to look under every nook and cranny and he had to explore every avenue – even if it was painful for her.

Jorge didn’t mirror her disappointment and only smiled softly to her as he nodded his head and took every drawing back that she offered him. Of course the man hoped that something would look familiar to her but he wasn’t going to push her for answers that were probably not there. As a matter of fact, he was beginning to surmise that these people were part of a splinter group, maybe started by someone recently just trying to emulate the Church’s agenda. However, just as this thought percolated in his mind, he caught that look on Agnes’ face – she recognized someone.

Turning the stack around to face him, Jorge listened as Agnes began to explain who the person was. Quickly he pulled a notepad and pen from his jacket and started to jot down notes. It was perfect, she had a name and a connection to her family and therefore, the Church. That was all he needed so that he could continue doing more research and hopefully find this man. In all honesty, this was a break that the man simply had not been expecting.

She handed the picture back to him and to took it was a gracious smile. ”Thank you so much, Agnes. I can only imagine how difficult that was for you.” As he didn’t want to make her remember more than she had to, he was going to take the last picture from her without argue, but he stopped when he noticed the look on her face. His eyebrow arched in confusion. ”Agnes?”

>> ”…my god…”

It was scaring him the look that she was now giving the drawing in her hands. She shook, almost wildly, as she stared at it, tears clearly welling up in her eyes. It almost looked as if she was having a hard time breathing and, judging from the buzzing that was emitting from her, something was very wrong. He got up and carefully approached her as he looked at the drawing she was staring at – the last of the culprits from the latest attack.

Gently he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a comfortable squeeze as he spoke in a low tone. ”Agnes? What’s wrong?”

Agnes was completely nonresponsive. Not because she wanted to be rude or dismissive of the kindly officer, but because she was in complete and total shock. The last picture that she stared at had clearly thrown her for an absolute loop, the kind that she couldn’t even fully wrap her mind around. One would assume that by looking over her that she was suffering from some kind of malady but that wasn’t the case right now. Agnes wasn’t sick or hurt, confusion itself had landed such a solid punch to her jaw that she was having a hard time recovering. It was like she was staring at a ghastly phantom.

The picture in her hand seemed pretty non-descript. It was the face of a younger man, someone just a little older than herself. He was depicted as painfully thin, almost gaunt, with sunken cheeks and eyes. One would have assumed he was some skeleton that wandered out of a cemetery, of sorts, but it wasn’t his ghastly appearance that had stunned Agnes. The actualy culprit of her reaction was the quite visible scar that was shown cutting down, diagonally, across the left corner of his lips. It was sizeable, not something to be forgotten.

As the detective placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to reach her, Agnes could slowly feel the breath returning to her body. The blood started to warm and pump again and normal brain functions started to return. But even though she was coming out of her shock and the detective was still trying to reach her, Agnes found herself lost in the beehive of thoughts that bombarded her mind. Agnes was adrift in the choppy waters of memory.

The voice. The devil may care smirk. The soulful and caring eyes. They all took shape in her mind again, as clear as they were the last time she had seen him climbing out of his window and disappearing into the night. There was relief, familiarity, and even anger when she thought back to this moment, to this now young man who had been her only source of caring through her early miserable life. And the fact that she was seeing him in a line-up of monsters only broke her heart.

He had been gone for so long that it would have been better to continue to assume he’d been dead.

Another squeeze and she turned her teary eyes to the detective who sat next to her. Her voice was low and unheard as she started to shakily mouth the words she wanted to say. At first they wouldn’t, couldn’t, come out but she forced them through a raspy whisper. ”D-D-Dan…te...” The detective gave her an odd look but she pushed on. ”Dante…” she whispered in a ghostly tone. ”…my brother…”

Though he didn’t say it right there and then, but Jorge was scared for Agnes the look on her face, as if she had been drained of all of her blood reflected in his eyes as he stared at her. It was downright one of the most frightening things that he man had ever seen. Concern had wrapped tightly around his neck, choking the breath from him as he tried to awaken some sense in the woman. Was she having some kind of fit? Was she really that shocked? The man wouldn’t know until she responded to him. For half a second he considered just contacting dispatch to send an ambulance over, but thankfully, she blinked and shook her head.

Jorge breathed a small sigh of relief that she was physically okay, but what was going on when her mentally? The man had opened his mouth to inquire after her again when he heard the shaky sound of her inhaling, preparing to speak. As he didn’t want to interrupt her, the man gently removed his hand from her shoulder, clasping both together, and waited for her to speak.

>> ”Dante…my brother…”

Okay…so that certainly wasn’t what the man was expecting to hear from her. As he sat there, dumbfounded by the revelation, his mind began to churn as he tried to think back. He thought back to her parents initial capture, hell to the initial investigation, and dug through his memory in search of any reference to a Dante. He came up short. The family was very puritan-like, even though they lived in a big city. They didn’t go to hospitals or even use a credit card, they were all about cash and staying with their close-knit community. It was no wonder that mention of a sibling for Agnes may have slipped through the cracks.

In all honesty, he didn’t know what to say. Thanks there, shocked, and watching the young woman, the man found himself unsure as to how to proceed. Should he ask about him? Maybe try to get more details out of her? But judging from her current state, that didn’t seem like the best option either. The young violinist was clearly in shock but the man felt like he had to say something. But what do you say to someone who just found out that their apparently estranged brother is now running around with a manic cult beating on mutants?

Vaguely he wondered if there was a hallmark card for that.

Jorge remained in silence. He would let Agnes take this conversation wherever she wanted it to go. For now the man would just sit in stunned silence with her, a presence to remind her that she wasn’t alone, and await her thoughts.

Agnes just continued to shake her head in silence as she stared at the drawing. While there was always room for interpretation with these things, it was painfully clear that this was her brother, Dante. She remembered that scar all too clearly. She was younger. Dante had a habit of sneaking out and defying their parent’s rules. Constantly he questioned them and constantly he was beaten for his attitude. The scar came from one fateful night, a night that Agnes would never forget.

When Dante had snuck in through her window, she wanted to scream and tell him that their mother was there. However, she had forbade Agnes to speak with the threat of several fresh welts being added to her back. Fearfully she hugged her blankets and hide underneath them as Dante crawled in. She closed her eyes when the shouting started, the unmistakable scent of perfume that was definitely not her mother’s, hanging in the air. Dante had been out – with a girl.

Oh the shouting that erupted in her room. It was deafening to the younger girl as she cringed under her blankets. It all boiled to the top as Dante started to scream back and outright refused to allow her to strike him with her belt. She was persistent, though, beating her heat with her heavy, metal edged bible and asking the Lord to forgive her terrible offspring. It was when Dante told her and God to go…you know…that their mother had had enough. She threw the bible with such force that it struck Dante across the lips and caused a massive split.

Agnes threw her blankets off by that point and joined Dante, inspecting his bleeding mouth despite her mother’s torrent of profanities and cries of a broken heart. It was only when she left the room that Agnes pulled a small metal box from between her mattresses. Popping it open, she had alcohol swabs, gauze, and a thread and needle. She wasn’t the best seamstress of if there was one thing Agnes was well versed in, it was treating wounds.

She remembered cleaning that split and sewing the skin back together. Dante winced the whole time. At first he was fuming, cursing between yelps and hisses, but by the end he just stared sadly at his sister. Agnes could see that look in his eyes, the realization that he was one hundred percent done with this whole situation. It was a look that she both feared and was jealous of. Wordless he waited for her to finish up before he stood on his shaky leg and left her room to find his own.

It was only a few days after that incident that he had left and vanished from her life. And yet, now, here was Agnes staring at his picture. He was older now, clearly, but the scar and the structure of his face meant that it was clearly him. But if that were the case, what was he doing beating up mutants with the Church of the Everlasting Eye of God? It was…it was ridiculous to her! She gulped as she turned to face the man next to her.

She sniffled. ”Dante…Dante ran away from home a few years before I did. I…I haven’t seen him since then,” she muttered. ”He got the worst beatings when we were younger. That scar…” she pointed at his lip. ”Was when our mother threw something at him. I sewed it up myself. “ She gave off a shaky breath, her voice tinged with anger, confusion, and surprise. ”After that…he was gone. W-What is he doing with them? He hated everything they preached...”

>> ”Dante…Dante ran away from home a few years before I did…”

Jorge just sat in silence as he listened to the young woman unload everything she could tell him about the young man in the drawing. Of course there was always the chance that she was mistaken, but even after having gone through so many years of not having him in her life, she still managed to recognize him in the second it took to look over the drawing. Her reaction alone seemed like it was proof enough that that was indeed Dante Nicholas, her supposed brother.

Now, Jorge had no grounds for assuming that she was lying to him. Why should she? The two of them had gotten along well enough and considering that there was no reason to proclaim some stranger was a distant family member, only added to the fact that he believed it was her sibling. Now he just had to deal with the fact that her brother was abusing other mutants. If it was tough for him to swallow, he could only imagine what Agnes herself was going through.

He was quiet and just let her finish. Everything she was saying painted the picture of a young man who was rebelling against everything his parents were trying to drill into his head. But why was he following orders now? The man chewed on the inside of his cheek, his detective’s mind running overtime to try and figure out the conundrum. In the end, when Agnes asked what would have made him join the Church, Jorge was lacking any and all answers.

He shrugged. ”I wish I could tell you,” he answered softly. He gave her shoulder another squeeze before he reached over and grabbed the rest of the file. He started to flip through the pages until he got to the eyewitness report. He cleared his throat as he began to read to her. ”Assailant five,” he nodded to the drawing in her hands. ”Stood back while the majority of the assault commenced. It wasn’t until Assailant two shoved a lead pipe into his hands did he join in.”

To Jorge it almost sounded like Dante was reluctant to join in. But if that were the case, why did he participate at all? His mind raced as he tried to think. Maybe he was being forced? Coerced into committing these acts? But why? Why would he agree? His mind slipped back to the incident with the mutant who had joined Agnes’ parents in an attempt to steal her away from the Mansion. That mutant was brainwashed to think that he was a savior, an angel, was that the case with Dante too? Was he brainwashed?


At this point the good detective just didn’t know. All he knew was that he had two names that he needed to research, two people who were involved in attacks, and two people who had some questions to answer.

”I know this sounds ridiculous…but Agnes…” he started. ”Have you had any contact with your brother recently?” He caught her staring at him and he shrugged his shoulders. ”Protocol. I have to ask.”

Agnes still couldn’t believe it. Staring at the picture of her brother was absolutely unbelievable. Just, how was it possible? Her brother had vanished from her life so many years ago, part of her just assumed that either he was dead or that he had finally managed to find a life to carve out for himself. Either way, he wasn’t connected with their family any more, he had gotten out, he was both a source of inspiration and anger for the young insect queen. Anger still dug into her heart, anger that he had left and that he didn’t take her with him, even though he was too young to take care of his baby sister, but still.

She gave off a shaky breath, trying to push through the anxiety that she felt welling inside of her heart. This wasn’t right. The Dante that she knew would never do anything that the Church tasked him with. Never anything like this. Maybe she was wrong about the drawing and, repeatedly, tried to prove that to herself by looking it over again and again. But each time, she found, that it was unmistakably him. She knew her brother, no matter the age. But what he was doing?

When she had asked the detective next to her, she really wasn’t expecting an answer. Instead it seemed the man wanted to try and clarify her brother’s part in the assault. As he began to read an excerpt from the eyewitness account, Agnes found herself listening very closely. From what he said it almost sounded like Dante had reluctantly joined in on the attack. If that were true then, clearly, he was being forced to do these things! But…why? What leverage did they have over Dante to make him so…meek? Dante wasn’t meek, not by a long shot.

She grumbled under her breath. ”This…it just doesn’t make any sense! Dante always hated the Church. He did everything rail against it! Why are they making him do this?”

She sighed, chewing on her lip. The fear and anxiousness was beginning to melt away. She was no longer struck mute by the image, but actually could feel a fiery determination settle into her belly. This was no longer just a fearful remembrance of things that had happened to her, her brother was actively in danger now. Somehow, the more she thought about it, the more assured she was that Dante’s life was on the line. She didn’t know if it were true but she knew she couldn’t sit around and wait to hear anything.

That was when Jorge asked if she had had any contact with him. An incredulous look crossed her features as she turned to face him. The man clarified that it was protocol and she rolled her eyes as she looked away, answering with a simple, ”No…” before once again embracing her silence. After a deep breath, Agnes turned back to face him. ”I want to help.” she said. ”And I don’t mean by just waiting around and sending you stuff I remember. I want to be out there looking for him with you. If Dante is in trouble…I…I can’t leave him.” A shaky breath. ”…even if he left me.”

Jorge sighed. Of course Agnes hadn’t heard from her brother but it was a standard question that the man had to ask. He was looking for suspects, after all, and whenever talking to the family of those people, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that they would have attempted to contact family at some point. But Agnes seemed genuinely surprised to see him in those drawings and surprised that he was even alive. That was clearly not the reaction of someone who had just been recently in touch with a disappeared family member. It was protocol to ask and the detective expected nothing from it.

Nodding his head at her initial response, the man sighed as he pulled his notepad from his pocket and continued to jot down a few nothings. Nothing overly extensive but just a few thoughts and possible ideas he had about seeing through with more investigation. It was as he was writing down a list of things to follow up on that Jorge turned and caught the last of what Agnes was saying.

>> ”I want to help…And I don’t mean by just waiting around and sending you stuff I remember. I want to be out there looking for him with you. If Dante is in trouble…I…I can’t leave him…even if he left me.”

Jorge blinked as he stared at her. This was scarcely the same woman that he had known many years ago when she was dating his teammate, Rebecca. That Agnes was also so shy, like a mouse, and this one, though she was initially timid, seemed to be finding her voice again just fun. As much as he could understand her want to investigate this kind of thing herself, deep down he knew that it wasn’t possible. She was too close to the case, clearly, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to put a civilian in danger.

”Agnes….” he started to say. He understood her position but he shook his head rather firmly. ”I can’t allow that. These are some very dangerous people who have really hurt others. I couldn’t allow you to be put into that kind of predicament.”

He hoped that what he said got through to her but one glance at the firm look in her crystalline eyes and Jorge had a feeling that it wouldn’t be. He had seen that look before, that determination to do what was wanted instead of what was advised. He’d seen it too many times from loved ones and family members who wanted revenge or wanted answers and yet weren’t patient enough to let the police do their work. They were just another piece on the game board but poised to lose.

”Stay here. Live your life. And let me handle this, okay?”