Rich Boy: Growing Pains - 27. Chapter 27

"The President wants to know why a seventeen-year-old kid is at the center of another one of these incidents." Ms. Huntington's voice was nearly shrill in his ear as Worthington walked outside the mobile command trailer the local police had set up. He stayed underneath the tent awning though, so the helicopters flying overhead would not be able to get a picture of him.

They were next to the Tower of Terror attraction, just between it and the Aladdin stage building. The park was empty of all tourists, and the mobile command center was the hub of activity for dozens of police, Disney security people, and several federal officials. Two DHS agents, real ones, had shown up an hour ago with a very real badge and very real identification for Worthington, and a gun that he now wore in a shoulder holster over the white dress shirt he was wearing. A Disney employee had been sent back to his hotel room and gotten slacks, the dress shirt, and a tie, as well as dress shoes and socks, and brought them here for him earlier.

"I'm rather unlucky, I guess," Worthington responded while trying not to laugh. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I was supposed to be on vacation, damn it. This wasn't my idea. Should I have just stood back and let them get away with whatever they were doing?"

"Of course not." She snorted over the phone. "If you had, you'd be in a lot more hot water than you are in now. Do you understand how big this is? It's not just local news or even national news. It's international. News stations all over the globe are running this story."

"I know," Worthington said with a sigh. "I've been thinking about it, and I think they want that effect."

"Why?" She asked.

"Maybe they want us busy dealing with the mess here instead of looking for them elsewhere." Worthington guessed. "Or maybe they are taking lessons from terrorists and trying to instill terror into the hearts and minds of regular people."

"Do they want the magical world brought into the limelight?" She asked. "They have to know they'll lose an out and out fight with us, especially now that we have weapons that can hurt them."

"Only dwarven-made bullets can hurt them right now." Worthington reminded her. "The supply of them is fairly limited still. Plus, if the mundane world learns of magic, especially in relation to an incident like this one, there's going to be a massive backlash. At the very least, the dwarves will be forced back into hiding, and you won't get a supply of their bullets."

"I'd like to see a demon survive a cruise missile or a nuke." Huntington retorted.

"Are you going to nuke your own cities to get a few demons?" Worthington asked and was greeted by silence on the line. "Exactly."

"We have other weapons." She said. "Our scientists are studying some of those bullets too. I know we can't reproduce them without magic, but maybe we can figure out something scientifically that will have a similar effect."

"Maybe, but how long will that take?" Worthington asked. "Think about it, ma'am. We have no idea what the population of demons is in their dimension. It could be thousands, or it could be millions. During the Demon Wars, when they established a foothold in our dimension, they would pour across the countryside like a vast sea according to the stories. There were thousands of them, and only the sacrifices of Light mages in Lyon kept them from moving further than that city. They gave a coalition of Light and Dark mages time to strike back, while the demon army was concentrating on Lyon and their gateway was only lightly defended. None of those mages survived that fight, either."

"You've told me that story before, Sinclair." She said firmly.

"I know, but it bears repeating, ma'am," Worthington noted. "Do we really want to see something like that happen again? The mage world is scattered and will be for years yet. It hasn't had to work together since the end of the Demon Wars. They sure as hell aren't going to trust you, and even I will take years to earn their trust."

"What do I tell the President?" She asked. "I'm being summoned to the White House for a meeting. The entire eastern seaboard is socked in with this weather system. Can't your mages do anything about that either?"

"A system that big would require every weather-working mage in existence to get rid of," Worthington said. "I know that much about weather-working."

"Damn." She said. "Just when I start thinking it's good you mages have limits, you remind me those limits can be a pain in the ass."

"We're human, ma'am," Worthington said. "If you tell the President nothing else, remind him that we're just human like anyone else. I was only able to save a handful of people today, but if I hadn't been here, they would be in the hands of demons, and you can rest assured the demon-controlled mages would have taken a lot more than just forty-odd people. They'd have had hundreds, and we'd be working with days-old evidence before we knew so many people were missing. More than likely it would've been even more days before government mages would have been called in, and then we'd be starting a week behind them. Now, we stopped them before they got more than one batch, and we know what they were doing and can work from there."

"Yes, that's a good message to take to the President." She said firmly and sounded a lot calmer. "Damn, why do I have to be the most senior person in Washington right now? Okay, you do what you can out there, find out where they took them if possible, and if you need resources, you let me know. I'm putting a lot of faith in you, young man. Don't let me down."

"I won't," Worthington said with a grimace before shutting his cell phone. He took a few moments to look around. All the teams that were inside the attraction had been seen by him or Kyle before entering. After seeing what Worthington was doing while in rapport with him, Kyle had started setting the right instructions into the men and women of the forensics teams, and was with them now after having practiced the necessary illusions.

There were tent awnings stretched out so that the hovering helicopters couldn't get good pictures, but as they were bringing the ‘bodies' out, Worthington didn't want to take chances. Kyle was creating illusions of bodies inside of body bags. Nick and Dakota, back in Clairville, had gotten in touch with the psychiatrist Barrett De Long who was contacting several local mages that could help with continuing the illusions as the ‘bodies' made their way to the local morgues. By the time more needed to be done with them, they would have real government mages in place to take care of the arrangements for identification of the missing, and ‘care' for their bodies in preparation for funerals.

"There are a group of men on their way in to see you, sir." A young female police officer said as she came up to him while he stared at the line of ‘bodies' that were being carried out.

"Thank you, Officer," Worthington said with a nod as he turned back towards the large RV that was used as a mobile command post by the local authorities.

"Are you sure we can't release your identity?" The middle-aged police captain asked for the third time as Worthington reentered the trailer.

"No, I do a lot of work undercover," Worthington said firmly yet again. "Just say ‘an undercover federal agent on the scene' and stress the assistance of the park's cast members in minimizing fatalities. We got lucky here today. It could have been a lot worse without their help."

"Yes, sir." The man said, showing no disdain at calling a man half his age ‘sir'. Then again, they assumed he was really in his late twenties from his identification, and that he just looked rather young.

"They said you were in here." A familiar voice said as Worthington felt the magical presence approaching. He turned and smiled at his brother, who was dressed in riding leathers and carrying his helmet.

"Jamie, that was fast," Worthington said with a smile as he turned and led his brother outside the command center so they could talk with more privacy. As soon as they were away from prying eyes, he hugged his brother. "You must have averaged one-fifty to get here that fast."

"A little faster, actually." Jamie smiled. "Traffic was horrible once we hit town though or we'd have been here an hour ago. I brought Brandon. He should be here in a minute, and we brought nine of the MR just in case. Colin wanted to come, but we made him stay home, along with Carl. I told him I wanted someone to stay behind and protect Carl and that only he would do for that job."

"Thanks," Worthington said with a sigh. Colin could be so touchy these days.

"No problem, bro," Jamie said, and then the smile slipped from his face. "You know I'm never going to let you go anywhere alone after this, right?"

"I had Kyle with me." Worthington retorted.

"You know what I mean," Jamie said, sternly.

"Yes, but really, Kyle was a big help," Worthington said. "In fact, I'd rather have had him here than Colin. Kyle didn't try to do more than he was capable of doing, and he worked with me as part of a team. Colin always has trouble with that."

"Kyle's a good man," Jamie said.

"Yes, he is." Worthington sighed, and Jamie smiled slightly.

"So what do you need me to do?" Jamie asked instead of the question that was really bubbling at the surface of his mind.

"How about you go and help Kyle?" Worthington said. "He's been doing advanced magic way beyond his normal abilities, and he's got to be all but exhausted by now. I know I'm tired as hell."

"Sounds good," Jamie said with a smile. "See you in a bit."

"Thanks for getting here so quickly, bro," Worthington said with a smile. Jamie waved at him and trotted off towards the building, speaking briefly to the two officers guarding the entrance. Worthington stood outside in the chilly air and tried to analyze the cover story they were putting out. He hated re-using the old terrorist angle and was beginning to think of the possible political implications.

This was flat out a bad time for foreign terrorists to be blamed for another attack on this country. The fact was that next year's elections were looking to be fierce enough and the President currently in office was facing a bad image for being weak on terror. The events earlier in the year in Phoenix certainly had not helped him out at all.

Too bad there wasn't a Timothy McVeigh to blame this one on.

Kyle came out of the building with his head hanging slightly and moving at a rather slow pace. His typical jaunty stride was subdued, and he all but shuffled his feet as he moved towards Worthington. When he got close, he gave Worthington a feeble smile.

"Ah'm exhausted." He mumbled in a heavy drawl. "Ah never thought I would be this tired."

"You can head back to the room in a little bit and get some rest," Worthington told him with a gentle smile. "I really appreciate all your help today."

"You proved your point, you know," Kyle said, tiredly. "This magic stuff, it's needed, and you're right. If people like you and me don't learn it and do all we can, innocent people are gonna get hurt. You don't have to worry about burning it out of me."

"I'm glad to hear that," Worthington said and reached out with one arm to pull Kyle into a hug. They broke apart after a minute, and Kyle shook his head.

"It's funny, you know," Kyle said softly. "Right now, I imagine the preacher in my old town is crowing about how the evil Disney empire just got itself a black eye, probably calling it the wrath of God and all that. Me? I just worry about those people we didn't save."

"You've got…" Worthington started to say, but his voice trailed off as his mind moved into high gear over something Kyle had said. Yes, that might just work. The President had gotten a lot of grief from religious groups in the last election and… "Kyle, you've just given me a good idea. Thanks. Why don't you go inside and sit down?"

"What did I do?" Kyle asked with a frown.

"I'll explain later, once you've had some rest," Worthington said. "Now, I need to make a phone call."

"Okay, but you better tell me." Kyle murmured before shambling off to the command center where he'd find an out-of-the-way chair and sit down. Worthington pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and found Huntington's cell number, then pushed the call button quickly. Hopefully, she wouldn't have gotten into her White House meeting yet.

"What is it, Sinclair?" She asked roughly as soon as she answered. "I'm in the White House heading to my meeting."

"I've got an idea to run by you, ma'am," Worthington said quickly. "I figure the foreign terrorist angle isn't going to go down too well with the President. It's likely to hurt him politically."

"Damn right, it will." She growled. "That's why he's called me in here so quickly."

"How about if it wasn't foreign terrorists," Worthington suggested.

"Keep going." She said cautiously.

"Well, you know there has been a religious boycott of Disney for over a decade now, right?" Worthington said.

"Yes." She answered.

"How many abortion clinics have been firebombed since the 1970s?" He asked her.

"More than I can count right now." She said with a hint of excitement in her voice. "That isn't even counting the assassination of doctors, bombing of gay bars and other stuff like that. Yes, yes, religious extremists would be a good one to pin it on. There was that speech he made two months ago about us spending so much money on foreign terrorists that we don't even look at domestic groups that spawn people like Ted Kazinski or that McVeigh character.

"Okay, start spreading the word out there that the suspects you've got in custody are American and appear to have no connection with foreign terrorists. Yes, yes, that will even explain why they got past our security because we're so focused on foreigners that when we found out they weren't involved with the group, we pretty much pulled the plug on the investigation. We can survive the backlash from that and give the politicos the cover they need at the same time.

"Good idea, Sinclair. We'll run with it, and find a scapegoat extremist group to pin the blame on, attach the bodies you've got of the dead mages to their group, but keep the direct blame limited to the dead ones. They were acting alone, but it's an example of the danger of these groups. Yes, yes, we'll go with that. Keep the details sketchy on your end. We'll flesh them out here."

"Got it, ma'am," Worthington said and smiled as she cut the call from her end.

It was nighttime when Lowenthal and the others arrived, and Worthington was ready to collapse where he stood. All the magic he'd used during the day was tiring, but he had a massive headache from all the questions and the little details that he really didn't understand and largely faked his way through. Of course, being able to read answers he needed from the minds of others around him helped, but when they didn't know the answer, he'd had to bluff his way through.

The decision that it was ‘safe' to let people back into area hotel rooms was relatively easy to make. Luckily, Lowenthal and Weatherby had a better understanding of the intricacies of the situation and recommended the continued closing of the parks until at least Tuesday, which did not make the Disney people happy but seemed to satisfy the police and federal agencies. Worthington was more worried about the fact that he'd be missing a few days of school.

That night he slept in his hotel room and woke up to find that the sun had barely risen and there was already a line of people waiting to talk to him. First on the list was Michael Lowenthal, who was frowning as he came into Worthington's bathroom while he was shaving. The older man looked at Worthington, standing there in nothing but blue bikini briefs and shook his head.

"You really are a piece of work, you know?" Michael said with a hint of fondness in his voice.

"What are you talking about?" Worthington asked as he rinsed the rest of the lather off of his face and contemplated what it would look like with a goatee. No, that would not be appropriate or look necessarily good on him.

"How do you manage to stay in such great shape with your schedule?" Michael asked.

"It's the magic, partly." Worthington shrugged as he took out a toothbrush and began to brush his teeth with some toothpaste.

"How's that?" Michael asked as Worthington rinsed his mouth out.

"Magic burns as much energy as aerobic exercise." Worthington shrugged. "You see very few fat mages, although it doesn't help with building muscle mass. That takes time the old fashioned way, through exercise, and I try to keep an hour a day reserved for that."

"Okay." Lowenthal frowned as he spoke and Worthington got the feeling he had some bad news.

"What is it?" Worthington asked with a sigh.

"Gerald Norman's plane crashed on take off about two hours ago," Lowenthal reported with a frown. "No survivors."

"Shit." Worthington cussed as he closed his eyes and leaned on the bathroom counter.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Lowenthal said. "I didn't particularly like the man, but no one deserves to die in an accident like that."

"Are we even sure it's an accident?" Worthington asked. "I mean, it sounds damn convenient that his plane would crash."

"It was the ice, most likely," Lowenthal said with a shrug. "The news is all over that, too, and you've got to stay focused on things here. You've got a busy day ahead of you."

"Who is in charge now that Norman's dead?" Worthington asked with a sigh. "You?"

"No, not me." Michael Lowenthal chuckled softly. "I talked to Assistant Director Huntington about a half-hour ago. We're to take our orders from you as Acting Director."

"Bullshit." Worthington snapped as he spun around to face the ruggedly handsome mage in his mid-twenties. "I'm fucking seventeen years old, and not even out of high school yet. There's no way in the fucking world anyone's going to put me in charge of anything."

"Wrong, Worthington," Michael said sternly. "You are seventeen, and yes, you're in high school, but you're a natural leader. There are times when things like age, and education are important, and times when they go by the wayside. We've been through three leaders in the Department in less than a year. This whole situation with the demons has blown up bigger than anyone expected. The whole thing is teetering on the edge of a big collapse that will take a lot of people with it, and we need someone with your skills in charge. No, you don't have all the necessary experience, but you do listen to people around you, which is one of the reasons why you're a good leader.

"Don't worry; Huntington is on her way out here right now. She's in the air, and her plane didn't crash. When she gets here, she'll be the face everyone sees, but you will be in the lead. I don't have the political experience to handle all the crap that is going to hit the fan from here on out."

"And I do?" Worthington snorted.

"You were born into it." Michael snorted. "Don't tell me growing up the way you did left you unprepared for handling politicians."

"I wish I could," Worthington said as he turned back to stare at himself in the mirror. Then he thought of something. "I don't work for the government, not really."

"You do now," Lowenthal said. "You've even got the identification to prove it, too."

"You're all crazy," Worthington mumbled.

"Yes, well, that's a given." Lowenthal smiled. "Now, you better hurry and finish getting dressed. I've got local security people wanting to talk about reopening the parks, FBI needing to talk to you about some aspects of the investigation, and a team of mages and mercenaries standing around with nothing to do for the moment. The California Governor's office has called twice already this morning. The Governor wants to tour the area as soon as possible, and he wants to be on the ground, not just in the air."

"Fuck." Worthington frowned. "When does Huntington get here?"

"She'll be on the ground in three hours, and should be on-site within a half-hour of that," Lowenthal answered. "Jamie and Kyle both want to see you, and I told them they could talk to you over breakfast, which is being brought up right now. You've got fifteen minutes to finish in here and get dressed. Wear an outfit like yesterdays. We've got some DHS jackets for everyone to wear over everything."

"You mean the blue ones with the lettering in yellow on the back?" Worthington sighed, and the man nodded. "Fine, get out of here and let me get ready."

"I'll see you in fifteen." Michael Lowenthal said in that brisk, efficient voice and left the bathroom. Worthington wanted to just go back to bed and pretend this had never happened. Things felt like they were spiraling out of control, and he was trying to hold back the tide as it rushed up onto the beach.

No matter what his feelings, he knew he had duties to perform, and worked on getting ready by starting his shower.

"You might want to read this," Jamie said around a mouthful of croissant as Worthington sat down next to him at the breakfast table. Worthington took the paper from Jamie's hands and frowned as he read the brief article.

"It figures they had to do that to transport so many people," Worthington said with a sigh after he put the article down and began to sip on the coffee that had been waiting for him.

"What does it mean?" Kyle asked as he sat, drinking some bottled water. An empty plate was in front of him, and he was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt similar to Worthington's.

"In order to use the portals, a child's life must be sacrificed," Worthington explained to the inexperienced mage. "Last time, we learned that if they use the portals too much, the Ferdun require some sort of sacrifice. They really like large felines as a meal, and these attacks at the San Diego and LA zoos were payment for the large number of people that they were moving through the portals. The Ferdun are elemental type creatures that actually conduct the transport and are somewhat intelligent."

"Can't you just ask them where they took the people?" Kyle asked.

"It's not that easy," Jamie answered as Worthington bit into a chocolate croissant that was actually quite good. "The Ferdun just won't answer a question if you ask them, and other than making a portal it is quite dangerous to interact with them."

"Give ‘em what they want," Kyle said with a shrug. "Bribe them."

"And cause more problems with zoo killings?" Worthington asked.

"There are wild mountain cats around Clairville." Kyle pointed out. "The dwarves were talking last week about having spotted a few of them. Catch one or two and then give them to the Ferdun as a sacrifice for the information."

"Better yet, let the Ferdun into the world for a few hours and let them hunt the cats down." Jamie smiled. "It's a good idea, and from what you said Worthington, the Ferdun like the hunt more than caged animals."

"It's an idea worth exploring." Worthington agreed.

"Am I still going back today?" Kyle asked after Worthington had been silent for several minutes while he ate.

"Yes," Worthington responded. "I have to stay, but finals are coming up in a couple of weeks, so you should go back."

"I'll be riding back with the guys later today too," Jamie said. "You'll beat us back, but we'll all be in school tomorrow."

"Despite the ending, I had a good time," Kyle said with a smile to Worthington. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Worthington said with a warm smile. By the time Kyle was on his flight out of town, and Ms. Huntington had landed, Worthington had to admit that he was in his element. Only listening to the advice of people like Weatherby and Lowenthal kept him from making some serious mistakes, but the truth was he knew when to listen and when to act.

His years at the boarding school, and growing up in his family's household had prepared him for the quickly shifting currents and inter-agency posturing that was going on that day. Dealing with politicians, and the nearly-frantic media were challenging aspects, but he already possessed the basic skills necessary to handle them easily. After spending twenty minutes updating Huntington on everything, she jumped right into the mix, providing even more expertise than he had expected, freeing him up to deal solely with the magic issues still involved in the situation.

The President expected them to find out where the demons had taken the people, where they planned to create a gateway to their dimension and to stop them from accomplishing that goal. Before he could concentrate on that though, they had to perfect the cover story and release information about the attack and its victims.

The network of cameras in the attraction, including the cameras that took the pictures of people in the middle of the ride provided a means of identifying the people who had been taken by the demon-controlled mages. By the time the California Governor arrived for his guided tour of the site, everything was in place, and the media got their ‘first look' at the scene. Their story appeared to work, and Worthington breathed his first sigh of relief.

Brandon returned Monday night because the President had arrived and wanted a demonstration of what had really happened during the attack, not just the cover story. He was to attend the ‘re-opening' ceremonies on Tuesday afternoon as Disney opened the main Disneyland park. The California Adventureland park, where the attack actually happened, was to remain closed for an additional week.

"So, you're the young man who seems to always be in the right place at the wrong time." The President, a tall man in his early fifties, said as Worthington shook his hand under the tent awnings protecting them from view on Monday night.

"Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on your point of view, Mr. President," Worthington said with a slight smile. He was dressed in his three-piece suit and looking as professional as he could manage. Brandon was standing behind him, slightly to his right. "This is my good friend, and assistant, Brandon Meyers."

"You're a mage too?" The President asked the dark-haired young man who was also dressed in his best suit.

"In a way, Mr. President," Brandon answered with a shaky voice. He wasn't quite as good at hiding his nervousness. There were a lot of nervous agents, and government mages around them, watching their every move, as well as Ms. Huntington, and her boss, the DHS Director himself. "I'm actually what is called a channel. We don't have much mage power directly that we can use ourselves, but we're able to bring in and store life energy from things around us, convert it to mage power, and pass it on to another mage."

"So you're like a power booster?" The President asked sharply. One thing was for sure: this man was no dullard.

"That's a good analogy, Mr. President," Worthington said. "With Brandon's help, I can handle a lot more power than I would otherwise. During our battle with the Demon Prince Zaroc, Brandon's abilities were the only reason we survived."

"I see." The President said. "What do you have for me this evening, besides the dog and pony show you gave the Governor?"

"That's the reason Brandon is here, Mr. President," Worthington said as he led the way through the gift shop and down the corridor that was normally the exit for the ride. "I plan to show you, through the use of illusions, what happened on the day of the attack. To do this, I will be drawing on a lot of power, more power than I could normally handle, so Brandon will help me out."

"This should be interesting." The President said with a hint of excitement in his voice as they walked side-by-side. "I was given a basic demonstration on magic when I took office, but I am given to understand that wild mages like you are capable of things our mages have never dreamed of doing."

"We have the benefit of centuries of collective knowledge in our training." Worthington said with a shrug, ignoring the term ‘wild mage.' He could see how it would make sense to the man and didn't want to start an argument over semantics. From Worthington's point of view, mages like Lowenthal, who was carefully holding a mental shield for the President were ‘wild.'

"I'm given to understand that you consider yourself only partially trained." The President stated as they walked up the steps to the main section of the ride.

"I would say I have completed most of my training, although there are quite a few gaps still," Worthington admitted. "In the years ahead, I hope to rectify those gaps, but things like the current situation seem always to keep getting in the way."

"We have to keep a repeat of these events from happening again, Mr. Sinclair if you have any hope of keeping magic a secret, and your kind from being torn apart by vigilante mobs." The President said sternly. "I have no desire for the instability or chaos that might be caused by the revelation of magic."

"Nor do I, Mr. President." Worthington agreed as he led the man around and through the ride loading area and into the staging area where he had been standing when he and Kyle had first felt the magic. "This is where it started, for me at least."

Worthington closed his eyes, drew on the power Brandon held ready for him and began to craft his illusions. He had been preparing for this since Sunday night when he'd learned of the President's plans and figured he would show the man the difference between his knowledge of magic and that common to the government mages he'd known. At the same time, he'd show the man Worthington's memories of what had happened, and give a display of skill and power to the fifteen government mages in the room, as well as the Secret Service agents.

"It looks so real." Huntington murmured with wide eyes as she stared at the room that was now full of people. Most of them he'd not really remembered until he'd studied the pictures taken by the ride's cameras.

"Touch one of them," Worthington suggested as he stood near the illusion of himself, dressed in casual shorts and t-shirt the way he had been that day. Funny, even his illusory self still had those scars. Huntington gulped but reached out her hand, and it passed through the illusion of Kyle.

"Simply amazing." The President murmured with relief as he looked around the room at several hundred illusions of people. "How do you manage all this?"

"One of the first things a mage learns is to control his mind and how to do what most people would call multi-tasking," Worthington explained. "I have to build and hold the images of all these people in my head at the same time, and to be honest; I can't hold an illusion this intricate for more than a few minutes."

"Well then, let's get started." The President said with a nod of his head and determined look. Worthington set the images into motion, and the room was filled with noise as Worthington essentially played back what had happened.

"At this point, Kyle and I felt the first spells going off," Worthington explained as he and Kyle got worried looks on their faces. "We are talking mentally to each other at this point."

"What were you saying?" The President asked, and Worthington verbally gave the man a synopsis of their mental conversation. When Worthington turned to the cast member and used a spell to have the young man obey his orders, the President spoke again. "Hold it for a moment, did you use magic on him?"

"Yes," Worthington admitted. "It's what we call low magic, a basic mental invasion of his mind to convince him that he should to whatever I tell him to do. In this situation, we used it to gain immediate access to the back area."

"You make it look so easy." The President frowned as he spoke. "When it was shown to me, they made such a display over having to concentrate to do it, but for you, it's like a flick of your hand."

"Again, what you are seeing is the difference in my training and what your government mages have learned," Worthington explained as they followed the illusory Worthington and Kyle into the area between the ride and loading zone. As soon as he was out of the main room, Worthington let the illusions in there go and sighed with relief.

"Is there something wrong?" The President asked.

"No, I just let the images in the other room fade away," Worthington said weakly. "It was a tremendous drain keeping them going. I'll be fine now."

He continued to show the images, explaining things as they went along. When they reached the point where Worthington was battling the two mages, the President's face went pale. By the time the replay of the fight was over, Worthington was covered in sweat and swaying on his feet.

"I never imagined so much was possible." The President said in a weak voice. "Thank you for showing this to me. You look tired."

"Mr. President, as awesome as what you have seen may be, the thing to remember is that in the end, we are as human as you are," Worthington said tiredly. "We can do things you can't, but we also have our limits, and our blood is the same color as yours."

"I can see that, Mr. Sinclair." The President said thoughtfully. "You've given me a lot to ponder. Thank you."

"You're welcome sir," Worthington said with a sigh and was grateful when they turned to leave. What would come of this meeting, he was not sure, but he hoped it would be for the best.