The old man smiled ruefully and finished walking the distance back to the white sofa. As he sat, his wrinkled hand passed Creed the folder.
“This is your third option, Creed Young.”
“What is it, sir?”
“An old score that needs settling.”
“Pardon?”
“The woman in the picture there,” he said motioning to a slightly yellowing photograph, “stole three very precious assets from me. I want her dead, and I want the assets returned to me.”
“What did she steal, sir?”
“Turn the page, son.”
On the next page there were pictures of two small children and a baby. Beneath each picture was an M-Case number. Creed recognized the number immediately because all metahumans were given M-Case numbers. His own was M429. Only these numbers were much smaller: M57, M61 and M74. They must have been some of the first metas.
“These children are metas,” Creed said, thinking out loud.
“Yes, they are.” Dr. Williams was giving Creed time to scan the documents following the pictures.
“They were test subjects some twelve years ago at The Institute for Neurobiological Studies in the Americas? I wasn’t aware that there was another training facility, sir.”
“Why would you be aware? But no, it was not a training facility like this one. It was the birthplace of the metahuman. It was at that Institute that the first serums were tested on human subjects and the results, all these years later, are magnificent soldiers like you.” The director was smiling proudly at Creed.
“These meta children are the ‘assets’ this woman stole from you?” Creed was putting it together now.
“Yes.”
“And you want these children back?”
“Precisely.”
“But they’re not children anymore. They must be teenagers by now.”
“They are.”
“Where are they?”
“In the Americas.”
“Are they still with the thief?”
“They are.”
“Will they come willingly?”
“No doubt that woman has worked to turn them against me; turn them away from who and what they truly are. They may need some convincing, but once the woman is killed, they’ll be much easier to manipulate.”
The doctor was watching Creed’s face carefully and loved what he saw. He knew he had chosen the right brother. Gavil was too evil, beautifully evil to be sure, but for this assignment he needed a strong-minded, gentle hand, and Creed fit the profile perfectly.
“Excuse me, sir. But may I ask if there is any way to ‘settle the score’ that doesn’t involve killing someone?”
Dr. Williams glared at Creed and said nothing to ease the silent anger that was clearly his response.
“It’s just that, I don’t feel right about killing anyone. Not my brother, nor a thief. Could I just bring her back with the children?” Creed asked hopefully.
“Let me make myself perfectly clear, son. The assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to terminate the woman and retrieve the three metas. Period. If you do not accept the terms of Option 3, there are still two other options you have from which to choose.” The venom in the doctor’s voice was potent. His three-piece suit looked even more intimidating than a five-star general. This man had power and he knew how to wield it.
With a slow deep breath in an obvious effort to calm himself, Dr. Williams continued, “However, I can appreciate a man of principles. I, myself, live by a strict code of conduct in my personal and business affairs. You do not feel comfortable taking a life. But sometimes we have to make a trade. Sometimes the ends do justify the means. So let me put one more thing on the table to help you make your decision. You have grown up here at the Facility, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The only family you ever knew of was Gavil Young, and he wasn’t much of a family. Have I assessed that accurately?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever wondered where your parents were? What they were like? Maybe wondered why they gave you and your brother up to the Facility instead of keeping you with them?”
Creed had no idea where the old man was going with this line of questions, but he did know it was making his stomach feel like it contained boiling acid.
“What would you do to find them, given the chance? Or more pointedly, what wouldn’t you do?” If the devil himself had a face, it looked like Kenneth Williams’. He was nearly giggling with joy over the painful dilemma he saw in the young man sitting next to him.
“Sir, are you saying you know where my parents are?” Creed’s voice came out in a whisper.
“I am.”
“And you’ll tell me where to find them if I complete option three just as you say?”
“Now you’re getting the idea, my boy,” beamed Williams.
“And if I don’t agree to this assignment…”
“Then there are always the death options from which to choose. Oh, and you’d die never having known your family.”