Work Text:
Buying Hyperion
by Lucinda
Al Bester frowned at the man across the table. He hated being sent out to deal with the norms, their minds were always so chaotic and tangled. But there was something different about this person, this Angel Darke.
It wasn't just the fact that the man's name was assumed. It wasn't just that the man's documentation had been faked. It wasn't just that the man had no medical records at all, which was supposed to be impossible.
"So you're the latest representative from Psi-Corps," the man's voice was calm, and he had an expression that was almost a smile.
"Yes," Al agreed, wondering just what was so amusing to this man. He had to be a norm, otherwise one of the Psi-Corp chapters would have already recruited him for training. They wouldn't miss out on someone who could manage that much poise, he'd be too good for public relations. "I wanted to talk to you about purchasing a piece of property."
Mr. Darke leaned back, arms folding over his chest as the smile became a smirk. "They didn't give you any sort of briefing, did they?"
Al frowned again, wondering just what was so amusing to this man. He represented Psi-Corps, and he didn't like some norm being amused at his expense. Then again, the man was a norm, why not just find out what was so amusing? He reached for the other man's mind, determined to read his thoughts.
There was nothing there.
Trying not to gape in shock, Al reached again. This time, he used more of his power. He was supposed to be strong, maybe strong enough to be trained as one of he Psi-police, he should be able to read this man's mind with ease. But he still couldn't find anything.
"You can't read me," the man spoke calmly, his smirk growing wider. "No matter how hard you try. I'd suggest you stop before you give yourself a headache."
This time, Al scowled at him instead of just frowning. There was no reason why he should be unable to read this norm.
"One of these days, Psi-Corps might start teaching you little telepaths that it's not polite to try to get into everybody's heads," the man commented, looking amused. "So far, every time they send one of you, it goes the same way. A telepath walks in the door and states that they want to buy my property, sometimes looking smug. When I'm not impressed, you all try to get into my head, and then every single one of you gives yourself a headache when you keep trying."
Al took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. "Why can't I read you?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain it, so I won't," the man shook his head. "There are some truths that you... that the world isn't ready to hear."
Al bit back his first comment, which was that this man had no idea what he was and wasn't ready to know. There would always be things he didn't want to know about, such as what some of his instructors looked like naked or just what went into the mystery meat at the cafeteria. In spite of the fact that this man was irritating him, Al had to admit that he might have a point or two to his arguments.
Having mentally counted to a hundred, Al decided to try a slightly different strategy. "Why won't you sell us your property? It seems like a very large building complex for one man, and despite the name, it hasn't been used as a hotel in a very long time."
The man gave a small smile, and countered, "Why do you want to buy it?"
Al Bester gaped at him. "What do you mean? Why should that matter?"
"I don't need the money that Psi-Corps is offering. I don't need to sell," Mr. Darke explained. "So unless someone can give me a good reason to sell the property to them, I'll keep it."
Al's lips moved as he tried to make sense of such a strange way of thinking about the property. He couldn't imagine anyone just ignoring an offer of that much money. "You don't need the money?"
"No. And I have strong memories of the Hotel Hyperion," he folded his hands, elbows on the table. "My memories of the place are worth far more to me than what has been offered."
Al sighed, rubbing at his eye with one gloved hand. "You're making a good deal of sense, Mr. Darke. I'm not used to norms doing that."
"You can call me Angel," the man replied.
After a few moments of looking intently at Al, Angel continued, "Something that you and probably the rest of Psi-Corps needs to realize and remember is that you're still human. You have the same weaknesses and needs as the rest of humanity."
Raising one eyebrow, Al folded his arms across his chest. "We are different. We read minds, Mr... Angel."
"You still think, hope, and plan. You still eat the same foods, breathe the same air," the man paused and his expression took on an unreadable cast. "You still bleed just the same as someone who isn't a telepath."
Al stood up, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling at those words. This man, Angel... he wasn't just calm and wealthy. There was something about him that was dangerous. The man wasn't going to sell the property, he might as well get away while he still could... err, just leave. "I'll keep that in mind."
"If you ever have a better reason why I should sell the Hyperion, I'd be willing to talk to you again, Mr. Bester. You'll know how to contact me."
Al Bester left the building, unable to explain why he felt safer with a door between himself and Angel Darke. He also didn't know why the sunshine felt so good when only a half hour earlier he'd been thinking it was too bright.
End Buying Hyperion.