Mark lay on the narrow bed in his dorm room, ceiling lights stretching across the walls. His chest tightened with resolve. He needed to get closer to one of the unreadable new students—and Risa seemed the most logical choice. Familiar, deceptively approachable, within reach. From there, he could manipulate Ariel, baiting her involvement without revealing his true motives.

He rose quietly and made his way to the common room. Ariel sat by a window, absorbed in a book. Mark approached, voice calm. “Hey, can I ask you something? I’d like your help asking someone out.”

Her face brightened. “Sure—who is it?”

“Risa Alfres.”

Her expression shifted. She frowned. “Oh. I don’t really like her.” She looked back at her book, the conversation ended.

Ariel brightened again. “There’s a training trip this Saturday—to another dimension. Practice hero drills. You in?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Mark replied, face neutral.

On Saturday, Mark boarded the silent air‑bus with Ariel and classmates. The craft soared between worlds. A deep unease nudged at his senses. Reaching out with his telepathy, he detected faint, distant thoughts—not from his peers, but something alien: the spy.

Silently, he moved to the bathroom. He noticed a wall panel slightly ajar, squeezed through, and emerged onto the roof. There—clad in black armored plating—stood a lone figure, still and unreadable.

“Are you the spy?” he asked softly.

“Maybe,” the figure replied.

They clashed instantly. The spy’s moves blurred with unnatural speed. Mark cupped his palms, summoning purple lightning. Energy crackled, striking an outer engine of the bus with a flash of sparks. The armored figure scrambled away.

Alarms screamed. Passengers panicked. The craft shuddered violently—start falling.

Mark leaped from the roof, twisting midair. He spun his arms rapidly, forming a cushion of air. He landed lightly on the street and dashed away as chaos erupted behind him. So that was them, he thought. Finally saw the spy.

He did not return to the dorms. Instead, Mark disappeared into the streets, blending into the scattering crowd that ran from the chaos above. He stayed hidden until the night cooled, his mind racing.

He replayed the mental images: four unreadable minds—Risa, Garth, Max, and Light. His telepathic scanning should have picked up surface thoughts—but all he sensed were flat emptiness. Complete silence.

That kind of total no‑read suggests powerful shielding. Psychic block defenses are established in fiction to block intrusion completely—minds read as blank, like a “Blue Screen of Death” tvtropes.org+1. Or there’s psychic immunity: fully resistant to mental probing, often linked to intense training or implanted shielding powerlisting.fandom.com. Clearly, someone had trained them—or prepped them for this.

Mark blinked as he visualized each student’s face: Risa with her white hair and pink eyes, Garth and his orange eyes, Max’s red glare. And Light—still a cipher. One or several of them was the spy.

I need to pick one, he told himself. Risa's the easiest target. Known, approachable. And she might be the only one I get close enough to probe personally. Ariel can move things if I direct subtly. But first he had to gather info.

He listened to the distant sirens, felt the electric hum inside him—the lightning core alive, calculating. His next steps would have to be precise.

Standing at a deserted corner, Mark clenched his fists. The bus crash responders wove through flickering lights behind him. The questions clamored: Who taught them to block? Was Alfred responsible? Was it part of some bigger villain network?

But one thing was clear: they had underestimated him once. They’d blocked his ability—and he would break through.

He straightened. The night stirred. In the shadows lurked answers. And Mark Velocida—double‑cored, telepath, trickster—prepared to face them.