For as long as Marley has known his father, the man has been absolutely fantastic with people. Really, public speaking in general is his forte. He can work a crowd like no other. Though, Marley supposes, that's probably a part of the job description.

It's something Marley has always admired about Allorn Nocona. Maybe even envied.

The man is currently exercising his most valuable skill, speaking to an audience of over twenty reporters and another fifty of political officials and civilians and such. He's introducing a new person he's hired for a high position in the government. Marley personally doesn't believe it calls for a speech from the king of the Westhem, but hey, he's only seventeen and his parents have never had a problem pointing out his age and how he clearly doesn't know jack squat about anything.

Perhaps the most nerve wracking thing of all, however, is the fact that Marley will have to go out there soon and give a speech on his own about something that has to do with how this new decision will affect the youth of the Westhem. He has to do that a lot, and it doesn't get any easier, it doesn't help that he's not allowed to bring his keychain of knickknacks that tend to help with the stress of most situations. He's supposed to keep his hands in the hand motion zone and focus on the speech board and act like a member of the Nocona famiy, chin up and eyes not cast anywhere but screen and the audience.

It's exhausting.

With the nerve that comes from this, he should at least be paid. Even if the last thing he needs is money. Anxiety medication, maybe, but his father has never believed in that.

"You're, uh, you're out there in two minutes." A nervous looking intern reminds him before jogging away.

It's a guy, different from the girl from earlier who tried to put makeup on him a few minutes ago. He let her put some kind of skin stuff on that he can't remember. That was all he let her get away with, mostly because she caught him by surprise. She then tried to style his hopeless nest of dirty blond hair. It was to no avail and she actually got her hands stuck a few times. Marley just told her it was fine and it's not like the public isn't used to seeing it anyway.

After the intern walks away, he is left waiting there, trying to keep his sweating to a minimum–failing horribly–as his father begins finishing up.

"That said, I have put my trust in Executive Terran and I hope you all will as well. Here to speak about the effect of this new change to our Education Department is none other than my son, who will be affected by this as much as the rest of the students of the Westhem."

No Marley won't. He's homeschooled. His father doesn't seem to care, though.

Then one last smile from the king, a nod at a camera, and he is walking away to stand beside Marley's mother, turning and giving him an expectant look.

Okay. Here goes.

Squaring his shoulders and looking forward, he covers his nervousness with a smile and makes his way out onto the stage. He hears some murmurs and takes his place behind the podium, looking out over the audience.

If he's out here for too long he'll break down and disappoint his father. This can last ten minutes before his breathing goes haywire and his legs shake and he borders on passing out.

He looks at the projected words in front of him, invisible to the audience, and begins reading.

"The new Cheif Executive of the National Education Department will not only be good for proper funding, but he has also ensured increased safety measures for all students..." He reads off the screen, trying to divide the time evenly between smiling at reporters and making eye contact with a wide range people in the audience.

His hands are in his pockets. Shit. He takes them out and makes some sort of hand motion that he doesn't know and watches as the words continue scrolling and he keeps his (hopefully unnoticeably) shaky reading;

"I am looking forward to having him lead the National Board of Education and..." blah blah blah, his voice is starting to get too fast and half of the stuff he's saying isn't even processing in his mind. When will this end so he can avoid the press and go home and just calm down in general?

His thoughts halt, because before he can make it much further than that—hardly through another two sentences—a distant shot is heard. Then another.

All the teenager registers is a sharp pain in his head, then his throat, and then...

Then a scream. Though it's not from him.

As the world around him begins to blur and slowly become darker and darker, he wobbles and, finally, loses all the strength in his legs. He unceremoniously crashes to the floor, headset falling right off and the faint feeling of blood trickling down his face.

Then there are hands on him, people touching his head and a lot of shouting and shuffling and the overall rumble of the crowd. It's all a lot. It's all too much.

His eyes begin to slide closed...

Then they're wide open.

The pain in his head starts to subside and the blurriness of his vision starts fading away and he's met with the sight of Charlene Nocona, short blonde hair framing her face and terrified brown eyes staring down at him with nothing but pure fear.

A few hectic seconds pass, the boy's strength starts coming back to him and he slowly sits up, rubbing at his head and looking around in blatant confusion.

What just happened?

If it weren't for the way his mother is cradling him in her arms, restraining him from complex movement, he would have probably stood right back up and continued his speech.

He turns his head towards the crowd and finds them all looking at him. They're wearing the same expressions as his mother.

All Marley can feel is confusion. Well, and the subsiding pain in his head and throat.

"M-Marley?" The quivering voice catches his attention and he turns to find his mom staring at him, disbelief in her eyes and tears pooling.

The lady backs away after he doesn't answer and then there's his father, leaning down and helping the boy to his feet. Marley can't help but to lean on him a bit, ears ringing and eyes going in and out of focus at the sight around him.

He, out of curiosity, reaches his hand up to his head, where the stinging but faded pain is currently at. It's dead in the middle of his forehead, and once he feels it, he realizes something.

That's a hole.

There is a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Then he reaches over to his neck, another area of pain, and touches another hole. In his throat. When he pulls his hand away, it's covered in blood.

Did... did he just...

No, there's no way, he wouldn't be able to stand on his own if...

Then he's being taken away. Away from the camera flashes and gobsmacked expressions. Away from the public eye.

He hears someone up at the podium, saying something to the press. It sounds like a male voice, but in this state he can't be sure.

They emerge out the other side, in a large empty room behind the curtain. There's already a paramedic waiting. Multiple, actually, and they all rush towards him.

Then, more out of shock and anxiety—and even some embarrassment—than anything, the world goes dark.

He passes out, falling against his father.

❦

When he comes to, he's in a white room. As his vision adjusts to the brightness, he finds that it's a hospital room. The intense amount of white and blinding fluorescent lights get that across quite well.

"You're awake." Marley hears a voice beside him say. He sits up and looks in the direction of the voice to find a doctor. At least, he assumes the man in white is a doctor. There's also a woman in similar attire that he determines is a nurse.

"What..." he gulps, frowning at his surroundings. "What happened?"

The doctor man, clipboard in hand, walks over to sit in a raised chair in front of a computer that Marley can't see the screen of.

"Well... uh..." the man trails off, then scratches the back of his neck. He looks nervous. Marley can't tell if it's from being around royalty or perhaps the news he is about to share.

"You were the target of an assassination attempt." The man says, turning so he's no longer looking at the screen. He doesn't meet Marley's eyes. The boy frowns.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, though, memories starts flashing through Marley's head.

Holy shit. No, there's no way. That had to be a dream. That's impossible.

Marley's hand trails up to feel his forehead. He's shocked, though, when he feels nothing. Just the smooth, normal, untouched skin of his face.

What?

"Your parents are going to be here any minute. They had to deal with the press. We can wait for them to arrive for the full explanation, if you want, Your Highness."

He blinks.

Before he can answer, the door is roughly opened and a woman is rushing in, right over to him and holding him tight in her arms. There are still tears in her eyes and the woman is shaking. He sees the looming figure of his father behind her.

The woman is his mother, and he doesn't know what to do.

He hears a formal greeting from the doctor towards his father. The doctor is shaking almost as much as his mom. Marley can understand being nervous in front of his father, though, the man rules half the world after all.

Charlene seems to take in the sight of Marley's head, though, because she pulls away and stares at him in confusion. She looks at his neck as well. Sure enough, everything's healed.

"Alright, so, your son was injured in his forehead and his neck. They were both in places that... well..." the doctor gulps. Marley's father raises his eyebrows.

The doctor seems nervous. The nurse hasn't said a word and it doesn't look like she's going to.

"He shouldn't have survived, much less heal completely within minutes of the attack."

That's impossible.

"So you're saying..." his father starts. Then he man pauses, crosses his arms over his chest.

"I'm saying that it's impossible to do what he did. Unless..." the man doesn't even have to finish that before Allorn is not so politely requesting he leave the room for a moment. The nurse does the same. Marley is frozen, and his parents are turning to look at him.

This is not how Marley thought today would go.

"Marley." And oh dear god, he's using that tone. The one that has Marley hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. The one that means his father is not only disappointed in him, but that he's in trouble.

"Al, please," and that's his mother. She's now running her hand through Marley's hair. Dangerous. "The boy just got shot, for Christ's sake."

"No," the man says, not even looking at his wife. His eyes are solely on Marley now. "How long have you known about your enhanced healing?" His voice leaves no room for joking, and the way he's looking down at Marley like he can't believe he's stuck with a son like this has Marley close to breaking down. That wouldn't earn him any sympathy, though.

"I-I didn't... not until today." His voice is shaking. Charlene hugs him tighter.

It's not his fault, though. He had no clue he had enhanced healing or whatever this is. He didn't know he was a... he didn't know...

He is so screwed.

"When did you plan on telling us?" That's his mom.

"I didn't know!" He defends far too loudly. It echoes off the walls and his father's eyes narrow. Yeah, he's just making this worse for himself.

Allorn takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and does something Marley never thought, in a million years, would happen.

The man takes out his phone, presses some buttons, and calls. It doesn't take but a few seconds for the person on the other line to answer. He doesn't break eye contact with Marley the entire time.

Marley hears a muffled voice from the other line, then his father's voice. "Hello, I'd like for you to call 1-A IAP and tell them they're going to have a new resident."

Then he leaves the room.

Oh-Oh shit, Marley's dead.

Wait, no. Actually he's not. Apparently that's impossible. Or, at least difficult.

Panicked, he turns to face his mom, who is currently sporting a solemn expression. That doesn't help the twisting in his gut.

"M-Mom," he stutters, "he's not actually going to send me to a... to one of his-" Marley's voice cracks, because he knows what's going on here. And he's terrified.

1-A IAP. Stands for Institution for Abnormal Persons. 1-A is just its identification code. The purpose of them is to make sure anyone with special abilities can be kept under control and function in society.

Depending on the ability, it can happen under some pretty violent means. 1-A is supposedly the worst one. The first one. Meaning that it works the best.

Meaning it's the most violent.

That's it. He's dead.

More like he'll wish he was dead.

"Honey, you know your father. You know how he feels about..."

Marley gulps. His mother pulls him closer.

That's right. Not to mention absolutely no one there will like Marley. His father is the reason they're there. Anyone with abilities like that probably detests the Nocona family with a burning passion. Marley can tell right now he's not going to make any friends.

If anything, he'll have more enemies.

This is definitely not how he thought today would play out. In the span of what could have only been a few hours, he's been shot twice, sent to a hospital, deemed clinically abnormal, and is now about to be sent off to an institution for others just like him.

This is a worst case scenario if he's ever heard one.

"Don't worry, sweetie, they'll help you. You'll be normal again!"

How exactly is he meant to be normal again? Are they gonna kill him?

Well, no, logically speaking they'll be trying to figure out how to kill him so he can be controlled. That's their job.

Right then, his father comes back in, a neutral expression on his face and phone probably residing in his pocket. He stops a few feet away from the bed, eyeing his wife for a moment.

"He's flying out tomorrow to Gans," AKA the biggest city and capital of the Westhem. Also where 1-A happens to reside.

Marley shifts uncomfortably in his mom's arms, avoids his fathers eyes, and wonders if he'll be going home any time soon.

He's beginning to doubt that by the minute.