4

Dear Melissa,

So, you came and found my letters. I'm guessing that you didn't come right away, that something happened, something that made you change your mind about me. Hopefully, it wasn't too scarring or life-threatening.

Well, I guess it's time for you to learn about your history. The reason for all this and why I have contacted you. Please keep in mind that this all happened ages ago. I don't have all of the details. That is why you need to contact this woman. She will be able to explain this much better, as she has a far better grasp of the concept.

Our ancestors were Roman. That's right. Your great-great-great-whatever spoke Latin and watched gladiators battle it out in the Colosseum. They weren't poor and impoverished like most, however. They were the rich and powerful of Ancient Rome, the people who led the poor. The ones you always hear about in the history books.

Well, anyway, an artifact was found. I believe it was a mineral, or a stone of some sort. Now, the powerful people in Rome were interested in this stone because it was glowing. They knew that no force of nature could cause rocks to shine in that way, so they turned to supernatural explanations. They were right. But they didn't react correctly.

They tried to destroy it. They attempted burning, crushing, even stabbing. They were unsuccessful. They were lost, and their explanations were getting wilder, three men even sacrificing themselves to the gods, to get rid of the stone. Obviously, this didn't work. But others were thinking of attempting the same thing, unable to cope with the fact that they were being outsmarted by a rock.

Someone had a bright idea. Instead of trying to demolish the stone, they could try and embrace whatever the stone could bring them. He called a meeting, of over three hundred senators and important citizens of Rome. He explained his idea, and the group was divided. Most, however, were willing to listen to this man and his ideas.

He picked up the stone, and held it levelly in front of his eyes. And it exploded.

He was the only one who died. Everyone else in the room was affected, however. They started to manifest abilities, strange powers. And once again, the group was divided in two. Over how to use these abilities. Half wanted to use them to help people. The other half wanted to conquer the known world. They would be unstoppable!

War ensued. There were casualties for both sides. But both sides had people escape the carnage, and continue their own bloodlines, keeping the powers alive, up to this point.

The powers didn't have the same effect on everyone. There were hundreds of different abilities caused by the stone. This coming analogy may sound odd, but it explains this so well. I want you to think of Pokémon. Pokémon have different powers and abilities. Within those powers and abilities, there are different specialties that come with each particular person. Not only that, but the rarer Pokémon are usually more powerful. The same goes for these supernatural people.

Hopefully this is helpful to you. I try, but I don't know as much as many others do. I am not the sort to be asking about this.

Stay safe,

Andrew

Signed 30/03/2018

"Good morning, Shannon." Melissa smiled. Shannon simply grunted back.

Melissa had gotten around to one of the letters the night before. She hadn't been able to sleep, and so had taken to other methods to entertain herself. The history of her Roman ancestors. Who would have thought?

"Shannon," she began cautiously. "I was reading one of Andrew's letters last night. And he said that my ancestors had supernatural abilities. Is that why we have been brought here? Do Anna and I have these abilities?"

"No shit, Sherlock." Melissa was taken aback. "Of course that's why you're here. They wouldn't be after you if you didn't have those abilities."

"But what abilities? What can we do?"

"I'll start with you, because I actually think Andrew's right about you. You're a Pugnator. Latin for 'fighter'. You have extreme combat abilities, incredible marksmanship and swordsmanship... Actually, you can pretty much fight with any weapon you can think of, and your battle planning and strategy is second to none. You also have a literal sixth sense for danger. It's ingrained into you."

"Really?"

"Oh, so you just naturally managed to take down two armed and highly trained soldiers all on your own, did you?"

"Fair enough. Are you a Pugnator?"

Shannon barked out a ragged smoker's laugh. "Nah, as if. What would be the chances of us being the same thing? I'm a Medicus."

"Latin for... doctor?"

"Close. Not bad, Melissa. Medicus actually means healer. But you got the basic concept correct. You are pretty intelligent as well. Pugnators have generally reserved all of their grey matter for fighting techniques, leaving no room for anything else."

"I work as a librarian."

"See? A few things you need to know about Pugnators. One: their powers usually start to come out mid to late thirties. The earlier your powers manifest, the more potential you have."

"I'm twenty-nine."

"Really?" Melissa looked offended. Shannon didn't seem to care. "Well, I suppose it isn't unheard of, but it is certainly the youngest Pugnator I've ever seen. Anyway, number two: Their psychic abilities work in a weird way. There is no set symptom for your sixth sense coming into play; many Pugnators have more than one way of feeling for danger."

"Like headaches?"

"Yes, and... it happened to you. Of course."

"In the bank... my head was throbbing. It was ridiculous. But it vanished as soon as she hit me."

"Your primal battle senses turned on. Your sixth sense turned off because you didn't need it anymore. It was happening right in front of you. But being struck will usually activate the powers, because you're in a fight. You need to use your abilities. Thus, they come into play."

"Andrew told me that there is a correlation between rarity and usefulness. In a nutshell."

"Yep. Pugnators aren't incredibly common, but I have come across a few in my time. Healers are very common. However, it is your daughter that excites Andrew. She isn't so much endeared to me."

"What does he think she has?"

"He thinks she is an Animo Moventis - 'mind mover'. Possibly the rarest power form there is. I think it's much more likely that she is a philosophus, which translates to, somewhat unsurprisingly, philosopher. It really depends on her intelligence. We know she is extremely bright. It just depends on how bright she is. To assess whether she may or may not be a Moventis, I'm going to challenge her to a game of chess."

Anna looked up from a book she'd found on the shelf in the house. "Me?" she asked, pointing to her chest.

"Yes, you. Come on, get up."

Anna looked at Melissa for guidance, but Melissa had no clue as to what was happening, and she just shrugged. Over the other side of the room, Shannon was reaching for a box up the top of a cupboard. She pulled out the pieces, arranging the black pieces. "Come on. Set up your pieces."

Anna jumped at Shannon's voice, and began moving her the pieces into the correct position. And the game was off. Both girls demanded complete silence while thinking, and so Melissa was forced to watch quietly as they mentally duked it out. "Check!"

Shannon had called it out, but didn't look satisfied, merely bored. Anna's expression was unreadable. She moved a bishop. "Checkmate."

Shannon looked stunned. "How the fu... Well done. Maybe there's a bit more promise from you than I thought."

Melissa didn't know why this was such an achievement. "Yes, okay, she beat you. Is that really such an achievement? We told you she was really smart."

"It would be a lot less of an achievement... if I wasn't an officially recognised grandmaster. To be beaten by a twelve-year-old... It's humbling, to say the least. I was once at 15th in the FIDE rankings in the world. And your daughter has beaten me. With apparent ease."

"So, is she an... um, a Moventis?"

"I'm not sure. Although it does seem slightly more likely now."

"Well, what are some of the characteristics of a Moventis?"

"The Animo Moventis... hang on, just give me a second. Okay. The Animo Moventis is mainly classified by two specific powers. Extreme intelligence, and telekinetic powers."

"Yes, but you said that philosophers also had large intelligence, and she hasn't had any telekinetic powers. Anything else?"

Shannon blew air out of her mouth. "I'm not sure. Not off the top of my head." She walked over to the shelf that Anna had perused earlier and picked out a thick book from the top shelf. "Animo Moventis are the most powerful weapons to have, blah blah blah... Okay. Aside from extreme intelligence and telekinetic abilities, Moventi tend to have extremely enhanced senses, such as sight and sound, and a sixth sense also, although this is not as refined as the Pugnator's. They have instant muscle memory, also known as motor memory..."

Anna jumped. "Muscle memory. Mum, that's like what I did with the pickpocketing, remember? I saw the video, and I could do it straight away."

"Really?" Hope was beginning to crack into Shannon's voice. "Show me how you would do it."

Anna sidled up to Shannon, who was attempting to look unsuspecting, and failing miserably. Anna winced at Shannon's imitation, before reaching in and grabbing two objects inside her pockets. She looked at them in her hand. One was a packet of cigarettes. Ugh, thought Anna. Of course. The other, however, was a faded photo, folded and partially ripped. She pulled them out and looked briefly, before handing them back to Shannon.

"Jesus Christ. I suspect your memory is eidetic, as well?"

"Yes."

"I'll say it. Melissa, your daughter is an Animo Moventis. She is one of the most powerful people on this planet."

"How rare are they?" After all Melissa had learned, she wasn't surprised to discover her daughter was so powerful. Her only concern was how unique her daughter was, and how far she would be pushed as a result.

"I have only met two in my life. Anna, and a boy I met a few years ago. Riley Ballard. Only problem is, he was playing for the other team."

"Playing for the other team? You make it sound like a sport."

"To some people it is a sport. People on both our side, and their's. Riley is more dangerous than Anna, for one reason: he seems to lack a conscience. He doesn't feel guilt for anything he does against the other side. Anna, I suspect, is not as remorseless or hardy as him?"

"It doesn't sound like it."

"This boy was fifteen when I met him, and had already mastered telekinesis, knew four languages, and had combat abilities far beyond anything I've ever seen. Abilities that are even beyond yours, Melissa. And the only one who would ever be able to challenge him, is Anna. Now, he was fifteen. If my math is correct, he is hitting a healthy twenty-two by now, reaching the peak of his abilities... Anna could be our saviour."

Melissa looked over to her daughter, who had blanched at the information being presented to her. "I don't know if I... if I could do all this stuff."

"Oh, you can, and you will."

"How do you know?"

"When I met Riley, that was the first time he knew he was that special. Because I told him. He knew how to use his telekinesis, and knew that was unusual, but he was an orphan. He didn't have a base for comparison, so that he could say, 'Hey. That's not normal.' He put down his language and combat knowledge to his intelligence. It's my fault that he is who he is: because I told him who he was and how he could use his abilities."

"But why? If he was on the other side, why did you approach him?"

"I told you; he was an orphan. He had no clue who he was. He was still in the foster care system, and I learned about him by tracking the family lines. He was an unusual one. His ancestor was the bastard son of two people on opposite sides of the war. An Ancient Romeo and Juliet. Except they didn't actually kill themselves, instead being executed by their respective sides for their illegal relationship."

"However, Riley, and his ancestors, don't have a set ally. There have been numerous accounts of previous generations of his family showing their allegiance to both sides. I thought that by talking to him--"

"You could convince him to join you. Help you to win the battle."

"Exactly."

Melissa paced around the table. "So, what now? It's great that we know all of this. Does it matter? I know, I know. They'll keep coming after us, keep trying to murder us. But this was the only example of anyone coming after me in my twenty-nine years of living. What are the chances of it happening again."

"Extremely likely."

"Oh."

"I don't know why it's taken them so long to find you. But now that they have found you, they are going to be able to find you, no matter whether you move to Costa Rica or the Caribbean. So, you may as well help us. You can help us, and probably die, or leave, and definitely die. Your call. Or your's and your daughter's."

"Don't even bother, Mum. We're staying. How do we help?"

"You can start by watching this. Melissa, step up. Anna, observe your mum beat the everlasting shit out of me. Three, two, one." She swung a left hook, which Melissa easily parried. She then faked left and punched right, but only reached thin air, as Melissa had read the move, and ducked underneath the blow. "Come on, Melissa. Take me down."

This was the wakeup call that Melissa needed. She punched forwards, aiming straight for Shannon's temple. Shannon, however, moved faster than expected, and deflected the blow. Melissa then sent a sweeping leg towards Shannon, who easily jumped over it. Melissa had been expecting this. Carrying her leg around for the full 360°, she planted her opposite foot into the still airborne Shannon as hard as she could.

Shannon went flying. She landed three feet away from where Melissa was standing. Melissa walked over to her. She was laughing hysterically. Melissa couldn't help but join in with the contagious laughter. This woman is something else. She winked at Shannon.

"Ready for round two?"