A murmur faintly echoes in the room.

As candlelights waver, so does the writing brush in the child's hand, imbued with red ink.

The child ceaselessly writes red letters on yellow talismans.

He's writing down complicated spells of wishes and curses targeted at somebodies.

Could the child have learned this art of thaumaturgy?

Probably not.

Then, was it the group the child belongs to... the 'technology liberation alliance' that taught him how to make talismans?

That wouldn't be the case, either.

Perhaps he's making sheets of paper containing tremendous technology, aiding his group's terrorist attacks?

No, that simply couldn't be.

What the child did was simply fight a few fights wearing the E.G.O his group borrowed from the underground levels of an L Corp. facility.

Sinclair : "Ah.. you've done it, you've.. found me."

He looked up toward you, with a crazed slight grin.