Chapter 52 The Propaganda

Chapter 52 The Propaganda
Ryan Cross - POV
I hunched over my laptop in the dim room. Screen glow stung my eyes a bit. Emma stared back from the video, her hands pressed hard on Jennifer's shaking form. Power flowed out. But the cut made it wrong. She seemed to shove harm in, not pull it out. Jennifer's fits ran in reverse, like Emma sparked them. The header blared, "Psychic Elite Assaults Struggling Students at Blackwood." A million views already. Comments poured down the side.
I hit pause. Clicked through frames slow. Edits sharp, no blur. Extra shadows crept in places they shouldn't. Sound bites mismatched lips by a fraction. My family's reports taught me this stuff. Ops that bend minds, shape what people see. Not some kid's hack job. Vance set this up to turn the knife.
Emma's tiredness pulled at me through the bond, soft and heavy. She rested next door, spent from the night before. Cole stood watch outside. Kai scratched at paper with colors. Blake hunted trails. I picked it apart. That's me. No ache to cloud it, just layers peeling back. Yet this one stuck. Aimed right at her. At what we had.
Phone vibrated. Blake's message. "Look at X. Going viral." I flipped tabs. Threads everywhere. "Society clings to power, strikes down challengers." Tags like #StopPsychicElites climbed fast. People clipped bits, spun their angles. One post read, "Born with it? They act superior. Time we all get a shot."
I scrolled quicker. Details stuck in my head, clear as print. Rhythms showed. First posters had that stiff bio feel, consulting gigs with no meat. Likes jumped too even, bot work. Planned push. Start with seeds of anger, let it grow. Paint us as the walls keeping them out.
Emma shifted in sleep. Her unease brushed me, light as breath. I pushed steadiness back. Cool, measured. But something roiled under. She shouldn't carry this. We tried for better, real ways. Vance peddled fixes that broke people.
I ran numbers on it. Video from a fresh account, "AscensionFacts." Tied quiet to her site. IP traces hinted official boxes. Fingers tapped code to pull comments. Same words looped. Elite. Hoarders. Risky naturals. Building a frame around us.
Kai shoved the door open, hands smeared in paint. "Ryan. This garbage?" He walked back and forth, wired tight. "They make her the bad one. Colors twist ugly, all jagged crimson."
I dipped my head. "On purpose. See this." Screen angled his way. Pointed out seams. "Skipped the shots. Turned her fix into a hit."
He bent close, brow creased. "Jerks. We hit them?"
"Wait. Break it down first." Words came flat, like always. But the bond let a bit of my edge slip through. Odd for me.
Cole came in quiet. Arms folded, he stared at the loop. "Calls from folks. Mine want details."
"Same here," I muttered. Family leaned on control. This chaos poked holes.
We sat with it. Video closed on Vance's calm tone. "Watch the entitled fight equality?" Falsehoods. But they landed. People swallowed them whole.
Time slipped. Dug into boards. Reddit hummed with r/BlackwoodSecrets. "Naturals block the door. Keep gifts from regular folks." Upvotes soared. Tales spilled. "They turned me down. Now smash anyone who skips the line."
It snowballed. Morning shows grabbed it. "Storm at top school. Born psychics vs fair chances." Talking heads picked sides. "These gifts skew everything."
Pressure built inside, no sting but a press. We defended ground. Now we wore the target.
Blake rang. "Ryan. Parents boiling over." Strain in his words. "Old grads talking. Push to shut down all weird stuff here."
Emails stacked up. From Mills. "Meet soon. Handle uproar." Files attached. Signatures lined pages. "Stop risky games. Shield our children from wild powers."
Cole's hand landed on my arm. "We end it."
"How?" Kai shot back. "They run the tale."
I got up. Stepped uneven. "Push facts out. But they're quick." Thoughts spun. Need evidence. Her flops shown clear.
Bond jumped. Emma up, fogged. "What now?" Echo faint.
I fed her clips. Video snips. Her sharp intake rang through. "Not like that."
"We see it," I sent. Steady. But a doubt nagged. Others didn't.
Day wore on. Crowds gathered by admin. Placards bobbed. "No More Barriers. Share the Strength." Voices rose in waves. News vans pulled up.
From the pane, I looked out. Drizzle started, spots on glass uneven. Air carried that damp bite.
Phone again. Advisor from home. "Ryan. Risks our support. Sort it." Weight added.
Blake messaged. "Bad turn. Feds alert."
Link opened. Banner bold. "Officials probe campus mind threats." Lines ran down. "Loose tools in young hands. Check starts today."
Air stuck in my throat. Real now. Agents coming. Our ties, our edges, marked as risks. Vance's play, full out.
Emma's scare spiked us. "Aimed at me."
Desk edge bit my palm. Move time. But with eyes everywhere? Knock came. Mills outside. "Cross. In now."
Weight settled. Probe here. Our hidden parts ripped open.