Perennial

Chapter 3 -- Elle Webster

My name is not Elle Webster.

It's not the first alias I've ever used, and I doubt it will be the last, but it still sometimes catches me by surprise when I hear people use it.

Example:

"Miss Webster," the man waiting for me in the room greets me.

I stare blankly at him for a second. Then, I catch myself and begin slowly, "I think it's weird that you know my name but I don't know yours. Pretty sure that's breaching a rule of etiquette or something."

I smile in a way that never fails to make Digit angry.

This man, on the other hand, seems unruffled. He gestures for me to sit, and I comply, unsure of what else to do and unwilling to show it. I don't know this guy. I've never seen him before in my life.

He looks as blank and pristine as the walls of this facility in his clean black suit that actually shines a little bit in the florescent lighting. I decide to name him Mr. Suit.

Why is Mr. Suit here to visit me?

Is he supposed to be my government provided lawyer or something?

Will they actually be giving me a trial?

That would be an unexpected development, considering no super-human has gotten a fair trial since who knows when. Especially not kids who were arrested under the circumstances I was arrested under.

"My name is Agent Philips," He greets me, "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You've made quite a buzz back at the headquarters."

"Have I?" I ask, curiously. "What's so special about lighting a school on fire?"

Normally, there is nothing special about lighting a school on fire. However, when you immediately follow that up with some chlorokinesis, it is a little bit strange. It's even stranger when (if) a certain professor reports his files on a certain Cold War genetic experiment as missing shortly afterward.

Of course, I didn't have those files on me when I was arrested. So there's not any solid proof on whether or not I know about their little illegal experiments. They might suspect that I know, but nothing more, they have no proof that that's why I was there that night. Consequently, I've decided to play innocent for now, and see how far that gets me.

Mr. Suit gives me a bland, humorless smile. "I'm afraid that much is classified."

I frown, my temper flaring up. Then why tell me in the first place, you moron?!

"Is the reason for your visit classified, too?" I ask, a sweet smile on my face while my words come out like venom. "Or are you just going to sit here and waste my time until you've filled in your slot?"

"No," he says, tersely. "I'm here to congratulate you on your progress in rehab."

My frown deepens. I've only been here for something like a month and a half by my count. We passed my birthday a few weeks ago, so we must be in the middle of August by now. Is that really why he's here? It seems unlikely.

I'm unsure of how to respond to his statement. Is this one of those times to I'm supposed to say 'Thank you'?

"Um... Thanks?"

"You're welcome." He pauses, glancing down at his stack of papers gravely, like they hold the key to humanity's future within them. He shuffles his folders. "You've impressed the staff here with how quickly you've adapted to the environment. Dr. Keswick recommended you for our special program."

At my blank look, he sighs and adds, "Dr. Keswick is the telepath who was in charge of your registration."

Oh. He means Dr. Science? She recommended me for a special program? That... doesn't make any sense. Last I checked, Dr. Science hated me and only tolerated my presence because she gets paid to. It must be one of those "special" programs that you have to actually put quotes around the "special" so that people know you're being sarcastic.