"What?" Delsin recoiled. "Betty, that- that makes no sense. I'm from the tribe! My parents were from the tribe!"

"They weren't your-" The old woman stopped, and deflated. "They weren't your birth parents, Delsin. Your mother was from the tribe. Your father..."

"Tell us what happened, Betty," Eugene murmured. His hands sat in white-knuckle fists atop the keyboard.

Betty closed her eyes, and nodded.

"Your mother was having a hard time with money, years before you were born. She heard about medical trials being conducted by a group called the First Sons, which offered a great deal of money for people to come in and undergo some standard tests. Something about some new brand of pills. The tribe offered to help her out. I offered to give her a place to stay, but she didn't want charity." She paused, then spoke softer. "She was stubborn like that.

"But after those drug trials, they said she 'qualified' for further testing, and she never came back. Instead, two years later, we got two babies dropped on our doorstep, names included. Reggie and Delsin. The man who dropped them off wore a strange mask and hood, and had a voice I'll never forget. He said his name was Kessler, and that you two were his sons. He said your mother had passed away, and that he was giving care of you to us. It was all very odd, but he was so intense, so intimidating. We did as we were asked. We couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible would happen to us if we said no.

"There was a couple in our tribe at the time that was having trouble with fertility. They'd been having treatments, but couldn't seem to have a baby of their own. They decided to take on the babies. We didn't know what to do, and just tried to get them officially adopted, but once we started the paperwork it turned out that... someone else, had already done it. Probably that Kessler man. He arranged for the adoption to be legal - even untraceable. No one would know that you weren't your parents' children. And we kept it that way for years.

"I did my best to shield you from the First Sons and from Kessler. I was worried, once all this bio-terrorist nonsense started up, that it'd have something to do with you. And after you got your powers, I thought... I knew it would come to this. But I tried so hard to protect you. Both of you," she finished, staring pleading at both men.

The room fell silent, Delsin and Reggie unwilling to offer any words of comfort or forgiveness. Eugene raised a tentative finger. "If I may..." With the group's attention, he began reading off his computer. "That further testing? I think... I think I know what that was. The First Sons were the ones who created the... the Ray Sphere, the device that caused the blast years ago. But. While that was going on, they were conducting tests, trying to find out how the Conduit gene worked and if they could mutate or alter it in some way.

"Those drug tests were a front to find people with the Conduit gene. Delsin and Reggie's mother - birth mother, I guess - was one of those people. She ended up being the one they took and experimented on. Kessler, the then-leader of the First Sons, wanted to create artificial Conduits. He wanted to see if you could purposefully change or strengthen the gene, and wanted to create people - test tube babies - with that altered gene."

Eugene's eyes flickered across the page, reading faster than he could think. "Two eggs from Nicky Begay, from the Akomish tribe in Seattle, were taken and inseminated using DNA from a variety of hosts, through mostly using DNA from Kessler. The first child, codenamed Project Last Hope, was a failure. The Conduit gene was weak and inactive, and would likely remain inactive for the rest of the child's life. Without invasive testing, the gene would appear absent."

Eugene scrolled down. "The second child, however, codenamed "Second Son," was inseminated using a different tactic. By that point, development on the Ray Sphere was progressing well. Kessler chose to implement some Ray Sphere technology in the creation of the second child. As a result, Project Second Son inherited many aspects of the Ray Sphere. Instead of just gaining one power upon realization of the gene, the second child would be able to absorb the powers of whatever Conduit he interacted with.

"Nicky Begay died during experimentation following the successful creation of Project Second Son. Before her death, Begay named the sons Reggie and Delsin respectively, and refused to call them by their codenames. When the children were rehomed, they retained their initial names. Until the near-annihilation of the First Sons by Cole MacGrath, the Akomish tribe and the two boys were regularly monitored by the organization."

Eugene cleared his throat. "A lot of it is, uh, code and government, um, stuff. I condensed it. It's, uh. Yeah."

"So..." Reggie parted his lips, curling his hands into soft fists and holding them to his face. "Why did my... gene... activate?"

"Stress?" Eugene said, nervously picking at his fingernails. "Maybe it was a defense mechanism. Maybe if you hadn't a-almost drowned, you would never have become a Conduit at all."

"No, hold on a minute-" Fetch held up a hand, eyes screwed up and her face contorted in anger. "We're not even going to talk about this? This Kessler asshole tortured you guys's mother, used her eggs to make fake magic babies, and your grandma's been keeping this secret for years and this is fine?"

"What the fuck do you want me to do, Fetch?" Delsin exploded. He'd been silent since Betty first opened her mouth, sitting against the arm of the couch with his knees pulled to his chest. This time, he jumped to his feet, shaking and swearing. "What else am I supposed to say! This happened years ago! My mom- my mom's dead, she was always dead. This Kessler guy is dead. Reggie's not dead, but now he's got water powers and anxiety. And now Augustine's out of fucking prison! This isn't normal! Nothing's normal! I don't know what to do!"

He ran out of things to say after that, and found himself looming over Fetch, arms raised high with a manic expression on his face. Delsin realized everyone was staring at him, and he deflated, letting his arms fall to his sides. "I don't know what to do," he finished quietly.

Fetch opened her mouth to speak, when a sharp knock came at the front door. Everyone froze, eyes darting to the door. A few seconds later, the knock came again.

Betty rose from her chair, deathly calm. "I'll get it," she said. She hobbled to the front door, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her thin lips pressed together in a resolute line. She undid the latch, and turned the knob the open the door a crack, peeking out at the person on the porch.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Then she stumbled back with a cry as the person pushed open the door, flinging it open so it came around and slammed into the wall. A man dressed in heavy, black, government armor entered the room. The black helmet on his head concealed his face behind a tinted visor. As he lifted his gun, all around the house windows shattered and the heavy footsteps of stomping reinforcements rattled the floorboards.

"Betty!" Reggie jerked forward to the old woman's side as Delsin charged forward, sparking with rage and cinder. He reappeared in front of the agent, smoking hands placed on the other man's chest. With a burst of force, he pushed out, and the agent flew backwards, stumbling off the porch and rolling down the hill.

Delsin whipped around to see Reggie helping Betty to her feet. "Get her out of here," he said, jabbing a commanding finger at them. "We've got you."

The three of them coordinated efforts, but the house was cramped and full of cover. They made it to the porch, Eugene staying invisible to summon his angels in secret. But more soldiers came, with their rifles and pistols and faceless helms. Delsin's attacks made the grass twist and blacken as his heat seared the earth. Fetch zipped over walls and roofs and landed on soldiers' shoulders, pelting them with blinding laser blasts.

The longhouse grew riddled with bullet holes, wooden walls speckled with ugly, black pockmarks. Reggie and Betty cowered off to the side, trying to inch their way down the hill, to the beach, to a bus stop, to anything. Reggie felt a bullet graze his hip, and cried out. Betty stopped, turning to him in terror. Reggie lifted the hem of his shirt, looked for the blood and wound. Instead, he watched as his skin healed and the thin wound closed without a scar. He shivered.

"How many of you are there?" Fetch demanded, frustrated. No matter how many soldiers they shot or burnt or slashed with video game swords, they either got back up or more appeared. "Delsin! Grab one of them and see if you can figure out where they came from!"

Delsin nodded and put his hands together, thumbs side by side and palms facing out at the nearest soldier. A hot gush of black smoke erupted from the center of his hands, throwing the man back against the ground. Delsin dashed over while the agent was still unconscious and yanked off the helmet. He recoiled at what he saw.

The man's face was pale, with dark veins running up through his cheeks and around his eyes. Dark tar oozed from his lips and covered his mouth, dripping down his chin and heading for his chest. "Fetch?" Delsin shouted, taking a few staggering steps away from the body, watching in horror as it groaned and began to rise with unfocused eyes. "Fetch, I think we need to get out of here!"

"No!" Reggie's pained voice pierced the air, drawing everyone's eyes. Everyone on the hill froze. No one breathed. The only sound left was the faint clink of the soldiers adjusting their guns and the smoldering of burning grass beneath Delsin's feet.

Tears glimmered in Betty's eyes. "Don't," she breathed, as the faceless soldier pressed the barrel of his gun to her temple. "Please."

Delsin quavered. He looked to Fetch. She stared back at him with wild, worried eyes, waiting for his call. Reggie let himself be grabbed by another soldier, forced to his knees with a gun barrel pointed at the back of his skull. Eugene, standing off to the side, clutching his backpack to his chest, his eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses. Betty dared to beg, but there was still resolution in her eyes. Still pride. She gave Delsin a single, near-imperceptible nod, and closed her eyes.

"I..." The Bannerman trembled. The smoke in his hands doused. The burning sound and smell stopped. His chin fell to his chest, strands of hair dangling from his beanie, and he put his hands out. "We surrender."

The tar-mouthed soldiers approached, clapping handcuffs over their wrists that stifled their abilities. Betty was left behind, shoved into the longhouse and left to stare after them through one of the shattered windows. The four Conduits were shoved into a D.U.P van, sandwiched in between a handful of those dead-eyed soldiers. Someone went around the van to the driver's seat. The engine hummed. And the car rolled forward with a lurch, taking them somewhere else.

Delsin dared to look up, and met Fetch's questioning eyes. Eyes that begged for an explanation, or at least some kind of reassurance.

The Akomish man stared back at her sadly. "Sometimes you can't win, Fetch."

The van was silent for the rest of the drive.

Augustine watched from the cozy ranger's cabin a few miles away from the longhouse. The drones flying high in the air gave her a good view of the fighting without revealing her presence. Her eyes scanned the low-res television screens displaying the results of Sasha's soldiers.

She was rather proud of her idea of threatening Betty. The Rowe brothers did have a weakness for that old woman. The mind-controlled soldiers weren't quick on the uptake, but they took orders well enough if you worded them right. Perhaps she'd have more uses for them in future.

For now, Sasha wanted her turn with the brothers. Brooke didn't care what happened to Abigail or Eugene. They were inconsequential. No, this was about Delsin. And Reggie, too. Had to finish the job as a point of pride. Sasha would see them into the compound, would give her little monologue and get whatever she wanted out of them. Brooke just wanted to see the corpses. Then she'd be satisfied.

A delicate rap came at her office door. At her command, it opened, and a thin, nervous sort of man with dark glasses and a clipboard leaned inside. "Ms. Augustine," he said, with the twitch of someone drinking too much coffee. "We need to leave now."

"Yes, yes." Brooke rose, brushing herself off. It felt good to be back in her normal clothes. No more repulsive orange jumpsuits and unkempt hair. She was back, in full form. And she had PR work to do. "I'll be there in a moment."

The clipboard man left. All the big news outlets were in uproar over Delsin's ill-timed invasion. It wouldn't be difficult to turn this against him. Make him look like an unhinged terrorist, doing this out of vengeance instead of any kind of moral calling. He may have gotten the city on his side before, but with Sasha keeping him trapped and unable to defend himself, she could spin this any way she wanted.

And this time, she wouldn't lose.