**
He was getting pretty good at it. He’d abandoned his research of other people with abilities to play with his own. He could speed up and slow down the wind, he could send it out in a quick blast to knock things over, and every once in a while he could manage to shape it into little tornados. He’d brought leaves up to the roof so he could see the currents he created. He’d also started composing for the piano again, every irritation rolled off of him, it was easier to get on stage and play without the alcohol crutch; everything was easier. Even the visions happened less frequently. They were still horrible when they did, but they were soon forgotten. Whatever the wind was doing to him, it was way better than meth. And he was getting good at it. He’d never been more than decent at anything but the piano, and even then he’d known he could have been better if he hadn’t messed everything up in college. He was getting good at something most people couldn’t even attempt. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe everyone had the potential, and something had just triggered it in him. He didn’t know, but he wouldn’t mind being the only one who could control the air.
He wanted to tell Lewis so bad, and while convincing him wouldn’t be a problem, it was the reaction he feared. He couldn’t predict it. What if other people found out? What if they wanted to study him or interview him? He could barely handle the few band interviews he’d done for local magazines. What if they wanted to use him as a weapon? The thought of hurting someone with what he could do made him queasy. Even if he had to use the wind in self-defense, all he could do was knock people off of or into things, and that could seriously injure someone.
Maybe this was why he couldn’t find anyone else with abilities. No one wanted to be used. But, again, statistically speaking, there had to be at least one attention-whore with powers out there. But maybe they’d only had their abilities for almost two months like he had and were still trying to get used to them to maximize how awesome they looked once they did come forward. What kinds of other abilities were out there? How many were there? Hugo renewed his research.
In the days that followed, Hugo found several candidates for people with abilities, however they had all been proven to be hoaxes. A year ago there was the fire manipulator in China. For weeks there were articles about him, and then, at his grand unveiling, absolutely nothing happened. Hugo had found video footage of the press conference, and the horrified expression on the man’s face was real. Mr. Gideon had been there to witness the spectacle.
There was a TV Evangelicalist who, based on multiple witness accounts, might have been able to heal. The man’s show sharply rose in popularity, however, one night, on national television, his ability simply stopped working. After that, they played a few reruns of the show as it faded into obscurity. The preacher was never heard from again.
A series of entertaining clips on YouTube had surfaced a little over seven months ago of a woman who was a phenomenal marksman. She could hit targets that were barely visible on camera, blindfolded, sometimes without even looking at them once. There were eight clips of increasing popularity, and then they suddenly stopped.
4 months ago a flyer was proven to be using a wire for their stunts. You couldn’t see it on the video, but everyone who had been there had seen it.
Hugo was currently tracking a self-proclaimed telepath; he could tell you anything about yourself at a glance. Hugo rushed home, turning on the TV, nearly spilling his coffee in the process. The interview was just starting. Mr. Gideon was sitting across from a young man, blonde hair pulled back into a small ponytail. The CEO and Founder of Gideon Enterprises had a pleasant smile on his face, his hands folded on the table between them. There were two other people at the table, according to the reader bar at the bottom of the screen, both psychics.
“When did you all discover you had these amazing powers?” Alexander Gideon asked, voice pleasant and relaxed.
“I’ve always been in tune with the energies of the Universe.” One of the psychics, who was most likely full of shit, spoke dreamily, almost swaying with the wispy tone of his voice. The blonde, the one that might actually be psychic, Daniel Smith, scrunched up his nose a little, frowning.
The other ‘psychic’ folded her hands in her lap. “Ever since I was a small child, I’ve known I had the gift.”
Daniel opened his mouth slightly, as if he were going to correct the woman, but then sighed. Mr. Gideon was staring at him expectantly. “A month,” he finally answered, voice small.
The first psychic that had spoken tsked slightly, “Poor child. Perhaps you are not fully in tune with the-”
“Oh stop it,” Daniel snapped, glaring at the man, “You’re only spewing that bullshit because you failed as a school counselor. A tip? Don’t sleep with the students.” The telepath’s voice was acidic.
The man he was berating opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, and then stood, the abruptness of the movement sending his chair tumbling. “I don’t have to take this slander! You’ll be hearing from my lawyer you little brat!” and then the man stormed off stage.
The woman next to Daniel started snickering. Daniel’s sharp blue eyes turned on her, “I don’t know what you’re laughing about, you’re just as fake, and you know it. Pretending to talk to peoples’ dead loved ones, making them relive all that pain over and over again just so you can make a few bucks. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
The woman started shaking, her eyes glistening, “H-how dare you!” She choked out, right before she let out a tortured sob. She quickly stood and ran from the stage before the first tears fell.
Mr. Gideon was raising his eyebrows at Daniel, “My, that wasn’t very nice.”
The blonde young man gritted his teeth, “Sorry, but I hate frauds.”
Mr. Gideon’s expression softened, “Would you like to prove you’re the real thing then?”
Daniel shrugged, “Fine.”
“Alright, what am I thinking?” Mr. Gideon asked, a quirk to his smile.
Daniel blinked, squinted, blinked again, and then shook his head, “I…don’t know.”
Mr. Gideon looked disappointed, and then brightened again, “How about someone else?” The man beckoned towards someone off-screen, “Joe, come here.” A fidgeting man walked forward into view of the camera. “This is one of our camera men, Joe. Can you tell what he’s thinking?”
Daniel blinked again. Opened his mouth, then closed it. “N-no I can’t. I don’t hear anything.” Mr. Gideon frowned. The blonde young man looked back towards him. “I don’t know what happened. A-a moment ago I could hear everything. But now…” He looked down at his hands.
Mr. Gideon sighed, “Just admit it Daniel, you’re a fake. It’s ok. Everyone desires a little fame every once in a while, but you have people to do research for you, right?”
Hugo heavily sat down on his couch, frowning. Daniel had seemed so promising, but once again it was all a hoax and he had fallen for it. He punched the off button on his remote in disgust and stared down at his coffee. Would he ever find another person with abilities?