This is all wrong. Tony's not supposed to do this. Tom muses as he walks out of No. 62, the porch creaking a D# as he treads on it. He looks away from Tony, glancing at the once again locked houses. Why do they keep locking themselves- Focus. How do I stop this?

He hurries when Tony reaches the parked ice cream truck, the gigantic strawberry ice cream cone on its roof glinting vermilion under the sunset.

Michael steps out of the truck from the driver's seat, grabbing a hefty black backpack, his blue Mohawk combed to one side.

Tom takes in a deep breath, Michael would understand he explains.

"Agent Hornbill," he calls. "Thanks for coming-"

"Anthony, could you check your device and follow the on-screen instructions?"

Did he just ignore him?

"Yeah," Tony answers, a lopsided smirk on his face when he sees his stunned brother. "And I told you last time. You call me Tony."

"Oh, sorry," Michael says, looking up from his tracking device. "Could you check, Tony?"

Tom exhales sharply. "Agent Hornbill?" His hands clench into fists when he sees the towering agent kneel down to his brother, and help him accept the notifications on the bronze mirror.

"Agent Hornbill, as I was saying-"

"So you want me to scan the neighborhood for terrorists?" Michael asks.

Tom scrunches his face after hearing this derogatory word. Xenoxians aren't terrorists. Yes, they use violence to get what they want, but what about the ICJ?

Aren't what they're doing violent too? Using telepaths to hijack minds and drive them to death. That's worse than what the Xenos gang is doing. They didn't kill ten million of their enemies since their founding.

"Yeah," Tony answers. "Also, can you suggest any good houses? We're moving out."

Tom's eyes widen. Since when did they agree on this?

"That's not what we've disc-"

"That's a good move, Tony," Michael says, avoiding gaze completely with Tom. "This house's already become a crime scene."

"Michael," Tom snaps. "I need some time with Tony, alone."

He maintains his glare as Michael looks up at him.

He nods. "Okay." He gets up, placing his tracking device back into his pocket.

He takes something else out, a black device the size of a thumb. "The ICJ wanted to hand this to you, Mr. Thomas Banks."

Tom takes the device when Michael hands it to him. He exhales slowly. It's a voice recorder. He presses the sole button on it, a red button, eyes widening when he recognizes the grating voice that plays out.

"Tom, where have you been? You said you and your brother are moving to the dorms of Maven Academy-"

He stops the recording, this can't be happening. He catches a glimpse of his brother who's pale in shock.

"D-Diselhock," Tony stammers.

Tom shakes his head, his surroundings going blurry, a loathing tune filling his ears. The tune of the creaky gramophone in Keith Diselhock's study.

"What?" Diselhock, a man in his late thirties, though the huge scar across the left side of his face make him look older, asks, leaning back on his recliner. The gramophone cracks a tune in the corner, across the vintage-style study. "What in the blistering hell are you talking about?"

Tom stares down at his shoes, like always, his hands folded at the back. "I-I don't want Tony and I to live in an orphanage anymore."

Diselhock clacks his tongue, playing with a glass ball placed on his polished oak table. "As if you can decide on your own. The ICJ has handed your responsibilities to me, and so my decision will remain the same."

"I don't want Tony to go through that again," Tom blurts out, for a second lifting his gaze. He looks down as he meets Diselhock's glare.

"It's such a shame. Your brother can't even handle some plain old teasing."

"It was more than that," Tom says. "You saw the bruises yourself."

Diselhock clenches his jaw. "So you're going to use this against me to get what you want? Tell the ICJ I'm an incompetent guardian and let you be free?"

"Yes," Tom says, his gaze meeting him. "I kept quiet these five years, made sure nobody knew we were living in those orphanages."

Diselhock smirks. "Suppose you do report this. Then the ICJ would investigate and find me guilty. The court would be in favor and you would be independent." He leans forward, "But what if they found out that you're guilty as well?"

Tom remains silent, his heart beating at an alarming rate though.

"Then you'd be sent to prison-no, to the Fifth Regiment, since you're still ICJ's most valuable asset," Diselhock explains, a flicker of red in his black irises. He taps his fingers on the desk, "That would leave Tony alone, wouldn't it?"

Tom takes in a deep breath. "He won't be."

Diselhock scoffs, brows furrowed when he sees the young teenager grab his satchel. His eyes widen when he sees a bronze mirror being pulled out. "Where did you get-"

"He has his grandma," Tom says, showing the mirror to him. "She would take care of him when I'm gone."

Diselhock goes speechless.

"So dissolve the guardianship now, and we will never see each other again. I won't reveal anything, not even the fact that you tried to hide this from us, unless you do."

Diselhock breaks into a laugh. "You really scared me there, Tom." He points to the mirror, "That is useless. The ICJ won't recognize a trapped lousy telepath to be your guardian. She's already dead and rotten to the world."

"Watch your words," Sue says, the mirror displaying her furious face. "How dare you dishonor the Commander of the Fifth Regiment?"

Diselhock's eyes widen. That mirror didn't work when he wanted it to. Not when he needed help when the ICJ sent his friend's kids to his already packed house.

"General Banks," he says, getting up from the recliner, straightening his night robes.

"Dissolve the guardianship immediately," Sue says. "You're unfit to take care of my boys, let alone protect them. I will also notify the ICJ of the cruelty they've faced since their parents died-"

"I-I'll dissolve it," Diselhock says. "I'll make sure to transfer their rights to you."

Sue shakes her head. "Why don't you give it to them, their own rights?"

"Okay," he says. "B-but on two conditions." He glances at Tom. "You don't share anything ill of me."

Tom glances at him, a small grin on his face. He's never seen Diselhock this terrified. "What's the other?"

"We never meet or hear from each other again."

Tom exhales slowly, bingo. He glances at his grandma who nods with a smile.

"Okay, we have a deal then."

Sue claps. "To finalize, let's shake hands."

Diselhock mutters something indecipherable under his breath as he approaches. He shakes the young teenager's hand with a half-smile, withdrawing immediately.

The mirror buzzes.

"Speak of the devil. Kathy from the Youth Services Department is calling," Sue says. "Just give me a few minutes, Thomas. I'll resolve this and be back."

Tom flashes a grin, watching his grandma disappear from the screen. He doesn't even look at Diselhock as he turns around and heads toward the door.

"You better turn yourself in," Diselhock says, making him stop. "Before it's too late."

Tom glances over his shoulder, smirking. He's been dying to say this. "It's none of your business anymore, Diselhock."

The howling wind slaps Tom on the cheek, snapping him back to reality. The deal's broken. And to make matters worse, they can't reach grandma Sue.

How did Diselhock find out?

That's when Tom realizes. He looks up at Michael. "Y-You told him?"

"He's still your guardian till August this year," Michael says. "Says so in the papers. Doesn't he have the right to know?"

Tom clenches his jaw. "Aren't the Covert supposed to remain silent?"

"Excuse me?" Michael says. "I'm doing my job."

Tom shakes his head. "Call Alexa. I need to talk to her."

"She's currently busy," he replies. "And please refer her as Agent Racoon." He snatches the voice recorder from Tom. He glances at Tony, "You must've not known what's going on."

Tony remains silent, glancing at his brother. Yes, he doesn't know much of the deal, and how Tom convinced Diselhock. But he does know that it's all over once they return.

"We need to talk," Tom says. "Agent Hornbill."

Michael takes a step back. "I don't see any point in discussing this-"

"We do. Quite a lot," Tom says. He catches a glimpse of his brother, trying to say to calm down to him by telepathy. Why did he have to be without powers now!

He motions to the ice cream truck. "Let's talk in there, alone."

Tony takes in a shaky breath as he sees Michael nod. Didn't Grandma Sue tell the Covert doesn't disclose their client's information to anyone? Michael would have to contact the ICJ's Youth Services to contact Diselhock.

Tony finds himself near the front door, gaze fixated on his brother who motions him to go inside.

"I'll be done in 20 minutes," Tom says.

Tony wants to shake his head, to tell him to not go, but instead finds himself nodding and taking a step behind. Every alarm in his mind rings, something's definitely wrong.

After the door closes, Tony rushes to the living room, cursing a "sheesh" when he sees no windows.

He darts out of the room, racing to the dining room at the end of the hallway. He reaches the glass-paned window, peering through it to see his brother Tom climb into the ice cream truck.

"No," Tony says, noticing his trembling fingers. Something's definitely wrong. He taps on the mirror he still holds in his right hand.

"Grandma Sue!" he calls. He bites his lip seeing the blank screen. He races back to the living room, heading straight to the blue handbag on the floor. There must be something he can use to bring grandma Sue back.

Tony sits down, letting out an exasperating sigh, the contents sprawled on the floor. His gaze falls on Ivy-Man.

"I messed it up, didn't I?" he says, running his hands obey his hair. "If I hadn't called Michael about the Xenoxians, then this wouldn't have happened."

Tears stream down his cheeks. "It's my fault, isn't it?" He looks down, sobbing.

Tony tosses the unresponsive mirror away, burying his head in his knees. What has he done?