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Description
Level 2 -
The Scientist and the Soldier
(Six months ago)

Damien's eyes were open for two hours, before his alarm went off. The electronic display glowed a dim 5:27am.  It was still dark, and most people in the facility wouldn't be up for another hour and three minutes.  The dark haired man never slept for more than a few hours before seeing the flash of light that signaled that the nightmare had ended for another night.  He was past the point of fearing the dream, as it had now become a nuisance that kept him from decent, and much needed rest.  He rubbed the space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, not because they ached him, but because the cameras were always watching.  He had to appear normal for the simple fact that a man who accepts the loss of both parents, a younger sister, and his entire life up to this point would not be well received by the newly established A.I.F.  Even a man as mentally proficient as their Superior Officer of Scientific Affairs.
The American Interplane Forces had recruited him on recommendation by an undercover S.O.  Noland Mayse a.k.a. Reginald P. Wentworthy had been a loud voice in the appointment of the boy following his family's "disappearance".  The man claimed that Damien's intelligence and drive would make him a major force in the reclaiming of their world. Damien's silence and cooperation made for an easy transition from quiet genius to seemingly willing disciple of the AIF.  He excelled in his basic duties without uttering a word.  Merely mouthing the cadences seemed to appease his superiors, though an honest observation would detect a hint of fear in their many interactions with the young Private. The four-year training program required by basic recruits to learn the discipline required by the AIF was completed in fewer than two.  The academic curriculum was demolished by the intelligence of the silent young man. Damien finished a ten-year course of study in five years, three months, and fourteen days.
       Yet even through this rapid hurtle through the mechanical grooming of the AIF he was consistently confronted by the realization that he was no longer in control of his life.
       The AIF planned his meals and his sleep schedule.  They made it their duty to assign him a mental disorder as well as a therapist to cope with his "pain".  He answered their questions with no arrogance.  He accepted their medication with no prideful retort.  It was eight years before he was even transferred from the Allan R. Layman Recruit Barracks to the unnamed scientific laboratory in the Midwestern United States.
       The day he received his new orders, he looked in the mirror of his dormitory blinked twice and walked out without his uniform or his duffel.  The only things he took with him were the coat Reginald had lent him on their travels, the sweatpants and athletic shirt he'd been wearing that morning and a pitch-black bag that held everything Reginald had taken on the night of the incident.  There wasn't a bus waiting for him.  A simple black town car purred gently in the midday air.  There were no goodbyes from Damien or his bunkmates.  His superiors merely nodded dismissively as he passed them.  He swung his bag in low arcs as he crossed the lawn to the sleek automobile.  The windows were deeply tinted, seeming to simply disappear into the car itself.  The driver's side door opened and a sharply dressed driver stepped out and leaned to open Damien's door.  Damien held up his hand and the automaton stopped immediately in its tracks, turned around and re-entered the car the way it came.  A robotic service drone could only mean that classified information was about to be exchanged.  The bot would drive a preprogrammed route and then utterly self-destruct.  Common occurrence for a meeting with a Senior Officer.
       Damien crouched to enter the car as a plume of pale grey smoke billowed out.  He squinted and waved his hand once to clear the air. The smell of leather and expensive cigars met him as he sat.  As the driver fed much valued gasoline to the engine and pulled away from the barracks the only sound that could be heard was the treble of the town car and the deep exhalations of the figure seated across from Damien.  Billowy smoke filled the car and surrounded his face but Damien was not moved.  He never coughed.  He kept his eyelids lowered simply because he needed to adjust to the darkness of the vehicle's interior.  They had been driving for twenty minutes before the man across from him spoke.  His southern accent was instantly detected before he'd even finished his first sentence.

"It's been a long time, Master Damien," Noland said nonchalantly.

      The hand that held the butt of the cigar ground it to dust in an ashtray between the two men. Damien stared knowing full well the identity of his companion.  He frowned slightly, the only visible reaction to Reginald/Noland's conversation.  The S.O. proceeded to read from a folder filled with Damien's identifying information and his accomplishments through the AIF.  Yet even in his smug thoroughness Damien couldn't help noting mentally as he filled in the gaps in Noland's information.  He had been a lab technician for four months, not five.  He'd received two more unmentioned awards and had been commended for excellent service thrice more than Noland had mentioned.  The S.O. closed the folder and stared into Damien's dark eyes as he burned the folder to ash and tossed it out the window.

       "Hell. None of it even matters in the long run. I'm going to assume you know why you're here," Noland's face was stern as he looked into the boy's lifeless eyes.  "There's quite a bit you and your father left unfinished in that lab a yours.  You requested this transfer ages ago and yet you didn't contest it when you were turned down.  I'm curious to know why."

Damien never spoke without a planned explanation handy and this time was no different.

       "I assumed that the request would only be honored if I showed that I was able to complete this kind of work. My mental capacity was never in question, but I knew that my emotional fortitude had been brought into question following the disappearance of my father and sister.  It would have done me no good to put up a fuss."

      Damien's answer was concise and to the point.  And even knowing the boy Damien's capacity for intelligent response, Noland was impressed.

       "I can't believe I'm actually suggesting this, but…did you get smarter while I was away?" He chuckled and lit another cigar.

       "My intelligence simply needed the proper refinement. It is for that that I am grateful to the AIF." Again. No arrogance.

       "So tell me," The S.O. queried.  "What exactly do you know about the current situation involving the world and your father's project?

       Damien cleared his throat in an obvious commentary on Noland's noxious habit.  The S.O. seemed to take the hint and ground out the tip of his most recent cigar.  The young man began in a monotone suggesting that he was merely reciting facts.

       "The increased birth rate following the revival of the American economic system led to an increase in population.  The rest of the world, not to be outdone, swiftly followed suit.  Centuries ago it was theorized that the entirety of the world's population could fit within the boundaries of a mid-sized city in the state of Louisiana.  This has become irrelevant, as the territorial nature of humankind eradicates the option of coexistence.  The American Interplane Forces, created after my father's discovery of alternate planes of existence sought to fix this problem by adapting several stray moons into an inhabitable planet in the artificial galaxy, Titan.  A second, unforeseen, problem arose in the form of beings with abilities outside the realm of human possibility.  The meteor fragments collected by my father's team altered the fabric of dimensional reality in such a way that these beings were cropping up more frequently on the planet.  This led to an escalation in international tension as each nation sought to hoard their extra ordinary beings. Rumors of war increased in each nation's news media until the first planet of Titan was completed.  Many citizens hoping to avoid war requested to be placed aboard interstellar ships able to relocate to this planet, classified T-1.
"This movement became known as the Visa Initiative and was met with much controversy. Simply put, humanity's refusal to acknowledge that the Earth was no longer habitable meant that more attention was paid to the people trying to leave a dying planet than to actually fixing the problem.  Visas were granted only to those citizens who could afford to purchase one at an exorbitant fee or to those who would serve one of the many governing organizations running this planet.  My father's most recent project, which I believe is the one to which you are referring, could potentially provide another source of space for two growing species."

       Damien said all this without blinking. The scientist was far beyond such involuntary bodily reactions.  Noland/Reginald smiled and gestured at the coat he'd given the boy Damien. It was a simple snow coat with a faux fur hood that obscured the boy's features when worn.  Noland had been concerned about the boy's image to the AIF Educational Board and had bought it so that he could wear it if he ever needed to cry.  Damien used it simply to keep others from disturbing him when he was thinking although he hadn't had much need for it lately considering that he'd all but terrified anyone close to him.  Damien handed the coat to the S.O. and the fabric in his hand was replaced with a fancy wooden coat hanger.  Noland folded the jacket as Damien stared at the body length black bag he'd just been handed.  The car stopped as the S.O. spoke.

"I think this should just about fit you. I mean…we know every detail of your measurements…you just never really know how these things turn out until you finally put 'em on."

       Damien unzipped the bag just enough to see the crisp black suit peeking out from inside.  He looked at Noland and cocked his eyebrow just high enough to be noticed.

       "Your assignment's being adapted to meet the current need of the AIF.  You'll receive your requested laboratory privileges and'll even be promoted to Senor Officer.  The catch is that you've been commissioned to use that wrinkly brain of yours to educate others in a--."

       "An AIF training academy," Damien interrupted. "Have any of you considered that my demeanor may be too callous to deal with children? Considering that my personality has frightened off battle hardened soldiers, I'm less convinced that a group of children would fare any better."

       "It's been considered. Which is why we're pairing you with one of our friendly and most promising combat specialists.  The school itself is filled with soldiers, and scientists, and all manner of people, who've found, once they gave up fighting it, that teaching was actually something that they'd be good at and enjoy.  Kids have a way of bringing something out in you, you know?" Noland's eyes lost focus for a full three seconds as he pictured his young daughter entering American middle school for the first time. Damien was not amused.

       "This is not a good idea. I am saying this now while you still have the option to amend this arrangement. But as I understand it, in order to receive the labs I need, I will have no choice but to teach these children for you. It is a small price to pay, I suppose for the chance to continue my research."

       "That's what I'm talkin' about! And don't worry about the kids.  If you can get through six straight hours of teaching the little bastards every day I'll give you another medal.  Your post begins at 8:30 sharp on Monday morning.  Your curriculum will be in your new living area and you've already got access to the labs.  I'd suggest reading up on your class lesson plan. It's been adapted to fit your personal style and you're more than welcome to make a few modifications. Shouldn't take you more than five minutes, right?

       Noland/Reginald smiled unconvincingly. He reached for his cigar case and stopped short as Damien stared expressionless at him.  The boy grabbed his laptop case and hoisted the suit over his shoulder as he headed toward the circular set of buildings in front of him.  An ornate sign to his left welcomed him to the H.E.Aven Institute for gifted students.  The façade was thin as this was the first school to go public with its adoption of AIF Interplane training. The town car's black window rolled down to a crack and the noxious smoke poured out once again.  Noland's voice rang out happily as the car warmed up again.
"LABS ARE TO THE LEFT!! AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, DAMIEN!!"

       His eyes narrowed as he puffed on the cigar.  He spoke again, but this time there was no hiding the malice in his voice.

       "And don't you ever forget…I know what you can do."  He gave a curt salute as the car sped off into the distance.

       Damien frowned after him. He trudged onto the leftmost concrete path and brooded within himself. The only person left on the entire world who truly knew about his secret was an officer for the agency designed to hunt people like him.  Yet here he was, in its amply supplied belly, faced with the chance to take the beast down from within.
        His AIF badge got him as far as the front door but the personal markers in his eyes, hair, and fingertips got him the rest of the way into his new home.  It was large for a single bedroom apartment.  There was a neat kitchen area complete with cookware and Damien assumed that there would be both flat and silverware in the wooden cabinets.  He walked further into the place to find a fully furnished living area with an enormous entertainment center and a brand new flat-screen, which made no sense considering that he would be spending absolutely no time watching it.  A few hundred dollars would pad his already bursting bank account after selling it all.  The bedroom was pristine.  A grey and blue color scheme made up the décor and added a much-appreciated coolness to his new nest.  Damien placed his bags in the spacious closet as he looked over the king sized bed to the corner desk by his window. The curriculum packet was hundreds of pages long.  It took him a little over 15 minutes to read, memorize, and commit to a complete re haul of the AIF teaching manual.  He set the packet down and slipped out of his clothes.  The bathroom was little more than a short hallway and he passed a dual mirrored sink on the way to the high tech shower.  As he stepped in he turned the automated temperature gauge to as low as it would go. The 30˚ water met his skin and for the first time that day Damien closed his eyes.  His skin puckered and his chest was riddled with goose bumps. The soap he'd been supplied with was survivable, but his next trip to the commissary would mean a change in fragrance.  He theorized, while drying himself, that the suit was created in such a way that it could be maintained with little to no effort. He unzipped the bag and ran his hand over the fabric.  The thickness of the fibers could only mean that he was expected to wear the suit for the remainder of his time at H.E.Aven.  It felt bullet proof, which meant that he was meant for more than laboratory work and he could simply adapt it in the lab himself to fit whatever other defensive needs he might encounter.  Damien pulled out the necktie and turned it around.  A slender dial on the back meant that he could adjust color and pattern.  After turning it to the lowest and blackest setting he returned it to its place in the bag.
       Moments after hanging the case in his spacious closet Damien lay nude in his bed. Silk sheets caressed his flesh but he was not comforted. He would fall into a fitful sleep, and the dream would begin before awaking him ahead of time.  The first night was no different.  After the dream ended he awoke to find that his complementary desk clock showed 3:14am.  AIF Satellite time.  He searched around in the darkness before resting his eyes on a tiny series of wall panels that were just a hint brighter than the others.  They met darkness differently which meant that there was something behind them. A camera. The newly christened S.O. still wasn't quite done with his psyche evaluation.  He strode over to his closet to find that it had provided his suit with a steam wash and undergarments swung around on the same thick wooden hangers to line up behind the suit.  He chose the nearest set and dressed himself in a thin undershirt, cotton briefs, and dark dress socks.  A rack of identically shiny black shoes rose from the floor to meet his waiting hand and he lifted the suit from the closet.  Four minutes later a fully dressed Damien left his apartment to explore the school's circular grounds.
        Birds chirped but quieted as he passed them. The morning rumblings of nature seemed to silence themselves in the impressive presence of the new instructor.  He wandered for fourteen minutes before coming upon a massive figure squatting in the morning mist.  The eastern area was designated for meditation and quiet reflection and was outfitted with benches and large rocks for sitting.  Trees circumferenced the area providing an illusion of solitude in the heavily monitored compound and the man took no notice of Damien's noiseless intrusion upon his morning ritual.  The man took a deep breath and stood to stretch before turning to face him.

       "Good morning! I'm just finishing up a bit of P.T. But it would appear that I'm not the only early bird around here anymore. Makes me feel a bit less lonely," The man said with a modest smile.  His head was shaved in a standard AIF low cut.  He wore a simple flat green jogging suit that could barely hold his frame.  He was massive of torso and his legs were neatly sculpted.  The man had clearly excelled in physical fitness; no man had ever come this close to bodily perfection.  As the soldier reached out to shake Damien's hand the S.O. could feel his heart flutter uncharacteristically.  His face came as close to flushing, as he would allow before he returned the man's handshake with military respect.

       "Damien Narok. Superior Officer of Scientific Affairs and Instructor of S Class students."
The man retrieved his hand and saluted.

       "Captain Vincent Militia. Special Forces operative and Co-Instructor of S Class students. I wasn't aware that I was to be meeting you till Monday, sir. Breaking the rules already, aren't we?"

Vincent dusted off his pants and smiled at Damien's tie.  He took two deep breaths before he continued.

"So what brings you out here this early? I mean if it isn't too much to ask…"

"I am simply gathering information about the grounds. Exploring the campus and classes before Monday.  It would do me no good to be lost on my first day." Damien blinked once and looked past Vincent to the rest of field. The soldier looked at the scientist fondly as he spoke.

"I could show you around if you'd like. I mean I'm sure you can figure everything out on your own…"
Damien strode past him expressionless.

"That won't be necessary, although I will need a current class roster and any notes you have on the students before the end of the day."

"Absolutely, sir." Vincent's disappointment was blatant.

       Vincent jogged out of the clearing toward the instructor dormitories and Damien turned for a brief moment to stare after the muttering soldier.  A brief illusion of happiness began to form in his mind.
A family image of himself and his mother and father and sister standing cheerfully before a gaudy Christmas background.  They wore matching red and green sweaters and stood poised to take a holiday photo.  He imagined smiling at his father and resting his hand on his mother's soft shoulder as his sister's curls bobbed while she spoke about her most recent preteen obsession.  Then came something unexpected. Vincent turning from the timed camera he'd set and running over to drape his arm around the scientist's shoulder.  He slowly kissed Damien once on the forehead before the camera flash signaled both the end of the photo and the happy dream.  His analytical mind snapped back into place and he marched off to survey the rest of the campus.

Description
Level 2 -
The Scientist and the Soldier
(Six months ago)

Damien's eyes were open for two hours, before his alarm went off. The electronic display glowed a dim 5:27am.  It was still dark, and most people in the facility wouldn't be up for another hour and three minutes.  The dark haired man never slept for more than a few hours before seeing the flash of light that signaled that the nightmare had ended for another night.  He was past the point of fearing the dream, as it had now become a nuisance that kept him from decent, and much needed rest.  He rubbed the space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, not because they ached him, but because the cameras were always watching.  He had to appear normal for the simple fact that a man who accepts the loss of both parents, a younger sister, and his entire life up to this point would not be well received by the newly established A.I.F.  Even a man as mentally proficient as their Superior Officer of Scientific Affairs.
The American Interplane Forces had recruited him on recommendation by an undercover S.O.  Noland Mayse a.k.a. Reginald P. Wentworthy had been a loud voice in the appointment of the boy following his family's "disappearance".  The man claimed that Damien's intelligence and drive would make him a major force in the reclaiming of their world. Damien's silence and cooperation made for an easy transition from quiet genius to seemingly willing disciple of the AIF.  He excelled in his basic duties without uttering a word.  Merely mouthing the cadences seemed to appease his superiors, though an honest observation would detect a hint of fear in their many interactions with the young Private. The four-year training program required by basic recruits to learn the discipline required by the AIF was completed in fewer than two.  The academic curriculum was demolished by the intelligence of the silent young man. Damien finished a ten-year course of study in five years, three months, and fourteen days.
       Yet even through this rapid hurtle through the mechanical grooming of the AIF he was consistently confronted by the realization that he was no longer in control of his life.
       The AIF planned his meals and his sleep schedule.  They made it their duty to assign him a mental disorder as well as a therapist to cope with his "pain".  He answered their questions with no arrogance.  He accepted their medication with no prideful retort.  It was eight years before he was even transferred from the Allan R. Layman Recruit Barracks to the unnamed scientific laboratory in the Midwestern United States.
       The day he received his new orders, he looked in the mirror of his dormitory blinked twice and walked out without his uniform or his duffel.  The only things he took with him were the coat Reginald had lent him on their travels, the sweatpants and athletic shirt he'd been wearing that morning and a pitch-black bag that held everything Reginald had taken on the night of the incident.  There wasn't a bus waiting for him.  A simple black town car purred gently in the midday air.  There were no goodbyes from Damien or his bunkmates.  His superiors merely nodded dismissively as he passed them.  He swung his bag in low arcs as he crossed the lawn to the sleek automobile.  The windows were deeply tinted, seeming to simply disappear into the car itself.  The driver's side door opened and a sharply dressed driver stepped out and leaned to open Damien's door.  Damien held up his hand and the automaton stopped immediately in its tracks, turned around and re-entered the car the way it came.  A robotic service drone could only mean that classified information was about to be exchanged.  The bot would drive a preprogrammed route and then utterly self-destruct.  Common occurrence for a meeting with a Senior Officer.
       Damien crouched to enter the car as a plume of pale grey smoke billowed out.  He squinted and waved his hand once to clear the air. The smell of leather and expensive cigars met him as he sat.  As the driver fed much valued gasoline to the engine and pulled away from the barracks the only sound that could be heard was the treble of the town car and the deep exhalations of the figure seated across from Damien.  Billowy smoke filled the car and surrounded his face but Damien was not moved.  He never coughed.  He kept his eyelids lowered simply because he needed to adjust to the darkness of the vehicle's interior.  They had been driving for twenty minutes before the man across from him spoke.  His southern accent was instantly detected before he'd even finished his first sentence.

"It's been a long time, Master Damien," Noland said nonchalantly.

      The hand that held the butt of the cigar ground it to dust in an ashtray between the two men. Damien stared knowing full well the identity of his companion.  He frowned slightly, the only visible reaction to Reginald/Noland's conversation.  The S.O. proceeded to read from a folder filled with Damien's identifying information and his accomplishments through the AIF.  Yet even in his smug thoroughness Damien couldn't help noting mentally as he filled in the gaps in Noland's information.  He had been a lab technician for four months, not five.  He'd received two more unmentioned awards and had been commended for excellent service thrice more than Noland had mentioned.  The S.O. closed the folder and stared into Damien's dark eyes as he burned the folder to ash and tossed it out the window.

       "Hell. None of it even matters in the long run. I'm going to assume you know why you're here," Noland's face was stern as he looked into the boy's lifeless eyes.  "There's quite a bit you and your father left unfinished in that lab a yours.  You requested this transfer ages ago and yet you didn't contest it when you were turned down.  I'm curious to know why."

Damien never spoke without a planned explanation handy and this time was no different.

       "I assumed that the request would only be honored if I showed that I was able to complete this kind of work. My mental capacity was never in question, but I knew that my emotional fortitude had been brought into question following the disappearance of my father and sister.  It would have done me no good to put up a fuss."

      Damien's answer was concise and to the point.  And even knowing the boy Damien's capacity for intelligent response, Noland was impressed.

       "I can't believe I'm actually suggesting this, but…did you get smarter while I was away?" He chuckled and lit another cigar.

       "My intelligence simply needed the proper refinement. It is for that that I am grateful to the AIF." Again. No arrogance.

       "So tell me," The S.O. queried.  "What exactly do you know about the current situation involving the world and your father's project?

       Damien cleared his throat in an obvious commentary on Noland's noxious habit.  The S.O. seemed to take the hint and ground out the tip of his most recent cigar.  The young man began in a monotone suggesting that he was merely reciting facts.

       "The increased birth rate following the revival of the American economic system led to an increase in population.  The rest of the world, not to be outdone, swiftly followed suit.  Centuries ago it was theorized that the entirety of the world's population could fit within the boundaries of a mid-sized city in the state of Louisiana.  This has become irrelevant, as the territorial nature of humankind eradicates the option of coexistence.  The American Interplane Forces, created after my father's discovery of alternate planes of existence sought to fix this problem by adapting several stray moons into an inhabitable planet in the artificial galaxy, Titan.  A second, unforeseen, problem arose in the form of beings with abilities outside the realm of human possibility.  The meteor fragments collected by my father's team altered the fabric of dimensional reality in such a way that these beings were cropping up more frequently on the planet.  This led to an escalation in international tension as each nation sought to hoard their extra ordinary beings. Rumors of war increased in each nation's news media until the first planet of Titan was completed.  Many citizens hoping to avoid war requested to be placed aboard interstellar ships able to relocate to this planet, classified T-1.
"This movement became known as the Visa Initiative and was met with much controversy. Simply put, humanity's refusal to acknowledge that the Earth was no longer habitable meant that more attention was paid to the people trying to leave a dying planet than to actually fixing the problem.  Visas were granted only to those citizens who could afford to purchase one at an exorbitant fee or to those who would serve one of the many governing organizations running this planet.  My father's most recent project, which I believe is the one to which you are referring, could potentially provide another source of space for two growing species."

       Damien said all this without blinking. The scientist was far beyond such involuntary bodily reactions.  Noland/Reginald smiled and gestured at the coat he'd given the boy Damien. It was a simple snow coat with a faux fur hood that obscured the boy's features when worn.  Noland had been concerned about the boy's image to the AIF Educational Board and had bought it so that he could wear it if he ever needed to cry.  Damien used it simply to keep others from disturbing him when he was thinking although he hadn't had much need for it lately considering that he'd all but terrified anyone close to him.  Damien handed the coat to the S.O. and the fabric in his hand was replaced with a fancy wooden coat hanger.  Noland folded the jacket as Damien stared at the body length black bag he'd just been handed.  The car stopped as the S.O. spoke.

"I think this should just about fit you. I mean…we know every detail of your measurements…you just never really know how these things turn out until you finally put 'em on."

       Damien unzipped the bag just enough to see the crisp black suit peeking out from inside.  He looked at Noland and cocked his eyebrow just high enough to be noticed.

       "Your assignment's being adapted to meet the current need of the AIF.  You'll receive your requested laboratory privileges and'll even be promoted to Senor Officer.  The catch is that you've been commissioned to use that wrinkly brain of yours to educate others in a--."

       "An AIF training academy," Damien interrupted. "Have any of you considered that my demeanor may be too callous to deal with children? Considering that my personality has frightened off battle hardened soldiers, I'm less convinced that a group of children would fare any better."

       "It's been considered. Which is why we're pairing you with one of our friendly and most promising combat specialists.  The school itself is filled with soldiers, and scientists, and all manner of people, who've found, once they gave up fighting it, that teaching was actually something that they'd be good at and enjoy.  Kids have a way of bringing something out in you, you know?" Noland's eyes lost focus for a full three seconds as he pictured his young daughter entering American middle school for the first time. Damien was not amused.

       "This is not a good idea. I am saying this now while you still have the option to amend this arrangement. But as I understand it, in order to receive the labs I need, I will have no choice but to teach these children for you. It is a small price to pay, I suppose for the chance to continue my research."

       "That's what I'm talkin' about! And don't worry about the kids.  If you can get through six straight hours of teaching the little bastards every day I'll give you another medal.  Your post begins at 8:30 sharp on Monday morning.  Your curriculum will be in your new living area and you've already got access to the labs.  I'd suggest reading up on your class lesson plan. It's been adapted to fit your personal style and you're more than welcome to make a few modifications. Shouldn't take you more than five minutes, right?

       Noland/Reginald smiled unconvincingly. He reached for his cigar case and stopped short as Damien stared expressionless at him.  The boy grabbed his laptop case and hoisted the suit over his shoulder as he headed toward the circular set of buildings in front of him.  An ornate sign to his left welcomed him to the H.E.Aven Institute for gifted students.  The façade was thin as this was the first school to go public with its adoption of AIF Interplane training. The town car's black window rolled down to a crack and the noxious smoke poured out once again.  Noland's voice rang out happily as the car warmed up again.
"LABS ARE TO THE LEFT!! AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, DAMIEN!!"

       His eyes narrowed as he puffed on the cigar.  He spoke again, but this time there was no hiding the malice in his voice.

       "And don't you ever forget…I know what you can do."  He gave a curt salute as the car sped off into the distance.

       Damien frowned after him. He trudged onto the leftmost concrete path and brooded within himself. The only person left on the entire world who truly knew about his secret was an officer for the agency designed to hunt people like him.  Yet here he was, in its amply supplied belly, faced with the chance to take the beast down from within.
        His AIF badge got him as far as the front door but the personal markers in his eyes, hair, and fingertips got him the rest of the way into his new home.  It was large for a single bedroom apartment.  There was a neat kitchen area complete with cookware and Damien assumed that there would be both flat and silverware in the wooden cabinets.  He walked further into the place to find a fully furnished living area with an enormous entertainment center and a brand new flat-screen, which made no sense considering that he would be spending absolutely no time watching it.  A few hundred dollars would pad his already bursting bank account after selling it all.  The bedroom was pristine.  A grey and blue color scheme made up the décor and added a much-appreciated coolness to his new nest.  Damien placed his bags in the spacious closet as he looked over the king sized bed to the corner desk by his window. The curriculum packet was hundreds of pages long.  It took him a little over 15 minutes to read, memorize, and commit to a complete re haul of the AIF teaching manual.  He set the packet down and slipped out of his clothes.  The bathroom was little more than a short hallway and he passed a dual mirrored sink on the way to the high tech shower.  As he stepped in he turned the automated temperature gauge to as low as it would go. The 30˚ water met his skin and for the first time that day Damien closed his eyes.  His skin puckered and his chest was riddled with goose bumps. The soap he'd been supplied with was survivable, but his next trip to the commissary would mean a change in fragrance.  He theorized, while drying himself, that the suit was created in such a way that it could be maintained with little to no effort. He unzipped the bag and ran his hand over the fabric.  The thickness of the fibers could only mean that he was expected to wear the suit for the remainder of his time at H.E.Aven.  It felt bullet proof, which meant that he was meant for more than laboratory work and he could simply adapt it in the lab himself to fit whatever other defensive needs he might encounter.  Damien pulled out the necktie and turned it around.  A slender dial on the back meant that he could adjust color and pattern.  After turning it to the lowest and blackest setting he returned it to its place in the bag.
       Moments after hanging the case in his spacious closet Damien lay nude in his bed. Silk sheets caressed his flesh but he was not comforted. He would fall into a fitful sleep, and the dream would begin before awaking him ahead of time.  The first night was no different.  After the dream ended he awoke to find that his complementary desk clock showed 3:14am.  AIF Satellite time.  He searched around in the darkness before resting his eyes on a tiny series of wall panels that were just a hint brighter than the others.  They met darkness differently which meant that there was something behind them. A camera. The newly christened S.O. still wasn't quite done with his psyche evaluation.  He strode over to his closet to find that it had provided his suit with a steam wash and undergarments swung around on the same thick wooden hangers to line up behind the suit.  He chose the nearest set and dressed himself in a thin undershirt, cotton briefs, and dark dress socks.  A rack of identically shiny black shoes rose from the floor to meet his waiting hand and he lifted the suit from the closet.  Four minutes later a fully dressed Damien left his apartment to explore the school's circular grounds.
        Birds chirped but quieted as he passed them. The morning rumblings of nature seemed to silence themselves in the impressive presence of the new instructor.  He wandered for fourteen minutes before coming upon a massive figure squatting in the morning mist.  The eastern area was designated for meditation and quiet reflection and was outfitted with benches and large rocks for sitting.  Trees circumferenced the area providing an illusion of solitude in the heavily monitored compound and the man took no notice of Damien's noiseless intrusion upon his morning ritual.  The man took a deep breath and stood to stretch before turning to face him.

       "Good morning! I'm just finishing up a bit of P.T. But it would appear that I'm not the only early bird around here anymore. Makes me feel a bit less lonely," The man said with a modest smile.  His head was shaved in a standard AIF low cut.  He wore a simple flat green jogging suit that could barely hold his frame.  He was massive of torso and his legs were neatly sculpted.  The man had clearly excelled in physical fitness; no man had ever come this close to bodily perfection.  As the soldier reached out to shake Damien's hand the S.O. could feel his heart flutter uncharacteristically.  His face came as close to flushing, as he would allow before he returned the man's handshake with military respect.

       "Damien Narok. Superior Officer of Scientific Affairs and Instructor of S Class students."
The man retrieved his hand and saluted.

       "Captain Vincent Militia. Special Forces operative and Co-Instructor of S Class students. I wasn't aware that I was to be meeting you till Monday, sir. Breaking the rules already, aren't we?"

Vincent dusted off his pants and smiled at Damien's tie.  He took two deep breaths before he continued.

"So what brings you out here this early? I mean if it isn't too much to ask…"

"I am simply gathering information about the grounds. Exploring the campus and classes before Monday.  It would do me no good to be lost on my first day." Damien blinked once and looked past Vincent to the rest of field. The soldier looked at the scientist fondly as he spoke.

"I could show you around if you'd like. I mean I'm sure you can figure everything out on your own…"
Damien strode past him expressionless.

"That won't be necessary, although I will need a current class roster and any notes you have on the students before the end of the day."

"Absolutely, sir." Vincent's disappointment was blatant.

       Vincent jogged out of the clearing toward the instructor dormitories and Damien turned for a brief moment to stare after the muttering soldier.  A brief illusion of happiness began to form in his mind.
A family image of himself and his mother and father and sister standing cheerfully before a gaudy Christmas background.  They wore matching red and green sweaters and stood poised to take a holiday photo.  He imagined smiling at his father and resting his hand on his mother's soft shoulder as his sister's curls bobbed while she spoke about her most recent preteen obsession.  Then came something unexpected. Vincent turning from the timed camera he'd set and running over to drape his arm around the scientist's shoulder.  He slowly kissed Damien once on the forehead before the camera flash signaled both the end of the photo and the happy dream.  His analytical mind snapped back into place and he marched off to survey the rest of the campus.