Right. I owe you an explanation.
After the episode with Ishmael’s father, we had gone to live with my brother in Russia. It was he that informed us of a revolution, and encouraged us to join it. We had turned up together, but were sorted by the level of our powers. Flying was common apparently, even if wings weren’t, and Ishmael was a made a soldier. As far as I could see, since we weren’t fighting anyone, the soldiers didn’t have much to do except go out searching for other-what we were now apparently called- mutties, and train vigorously. I, however, was one of a kind, and after a quick demonstration where I atomised an abandoned tower block then reformed it into the shape of a pineapple, I was promoted to general, with command over an entire camp of powerful and frustrated mutties. Apparently, my age didn’t matter.
Mish was the camp messenger. He had the ability to hear his name, even at great distances, and could teleport to wherever it was said. His skin was leathery and red, and he had a row of horns up his forehead. He annoyed me no end. I didn’t know why- he just did.
Another person I had come to rely on was Agent Brackley. He was human, but worked with us nonetheless. Without him, lots of the demands we had sent to the government would never have gone through. I was in a tent with him now, holding my breath in anticipation.
‘The human government has agreed to hear our demands.’
I let out the breath I had been holding at Agent Brackley’s words. All our attempts over the previous weeks had been building up to this, and to finally hear good news was a welcome change. I looked at him thankfully.
‘I’ll take a team of us, with you at the head as a gesture of good will. Ishmael?’ Ishmael glanced at me from where he was marking out our contact’s residences on a map.
‘Once you’ve finished that, make a list of six people, including yourself, Agent Brackley and me, of different ranks and abilities to be representatives to the government. Include only the best of the best.’ Ishmael nodded and picked up the pace.
I turned to the Agent. He smiled reassuringly.
In the end, I was very pleased with our little group. Ishmael had gone for very non-threatening people with relatively good backgrounds. I counted us off on my fingers as we boarded the minibus that had been provided for our transport. Charlotte Wagner, a pregnant woman who worked in the kitchens and was married to a soldier in Afghanistan, who could change the colour of her hair at will, was chatting to Ishmael. An old gentleman who I kept around to monitor the standard of things and could clean things by looking at them, and last but not least was a slightly more powerful mutant called Jonathan who could shoot fire from his fingertips. I had made it clear to them that this was a peaceful mission, and if any brain liquidising was to be done, it was to be done nicely.
‘Right, we ready? All aboard. MISH!’ Crack.
‘Look after things while I’m gone. In other words, if anything goes wrong, I’ll have your head as a candleholder. MOVE!’
Ishmael smirked at me when Mish had cracked away again. ‘He’ll turn on you one of these days if you keep shouting at him like that.’
I snorted. ‘If he does, I’ll-’
‘Don’t say you’ll liquidise his brain.’
‘I couldn’t if I wanted to. Can’t destroy what was never there.’ Ishmael laughed as the minibus shuddered to life.