《Healer Prime》


 An Introduction and Prologue

    It was an unfortunate confluence of events that led to the advent of ¡®The Super Bug¡¯. Dr. Gabriel Fairhaven, a brilliant geneticist and biochemist, was developing a retrovirus for use in gene therapy with the intent to permanently cure genetic disorders. His disease of focus and primary driving force was cystic fibrosis, which his daughter Amelia suffered from.


    Gabriel worked for Immunotech, a major pharmaceutical company that at the time was suffering from bad press due to allegedly cruel animal testing and involvement in illegal biological weapons research. While Gabriel himself never came under scrutiny, a researcher operating in the same building was under investigation for involvement in viral weaponry. The researcher¡¯s name is withheld by legal injunction.


    Legal action was getting nowhere in resolving the accusations, so a group of environmental extremists calling themselves Gaia¡¯s Warriors took it upon themselves to resolve the situation. They broke into the Immunotech labs located in New York, freed the animals, and then detonated a large explosive device. Unfortunately they were unaware that Gabriel Fairhaven and his assistants were working late that night, as Gabriel had told several colleagues that he was on the verge of a major breakthrough in his research.


    The blast destroyed not only the bio-weapons lab, but also Gabriel¡¯s lab, killing Gabriel and his assistants and rendering his normally secure experimental viruses airborne. The lab was only just shy of 2 miles from JFK International Airport, and prevailing winds carried the airborne viruses, contaminated by the contents of the bio-weapons lab, directly to the terminal. Thus was begun a global pandemic that nearly brought civilization to its knees.


    The incubation period of the virus was roughly seven days, during which it was nearly 100% contagious. The virus spread from JFK to most of the planet before its first patient ever entered a hospital. Once the virus went active the symptoms presented themselves as an extreme case of the flu, with high fever, vomiting, delusions, convulsions, and aching muscles.


    At first people thought it might be a reemergence of the Spanish flu, which was frightening itself. Panic was widespread and a majority of the world¡¯s population was incapacitated in a matter of days. The World Health Organization was heavily involved after the first day, and within 48 hours of the first cases appearing the disease was traced back to New York and the explosion at the Immunotech labs. Unfortunately the explosion destroyed most of the research data and Gabriel Fairhaven and all 3 of his assistants were dead. All hopes for a rapidly created vaccine were crushed.


    Then, nearly two weeks after the first symptoms appeared, approximately 3 weeks after the initial infection, people began to recover. The entire world exhaled a breath of relief. At a 15% mortality rate, the toll of the infection was horrifyingly grim, though not the apocalypse some feared. Most of that toll came from people over the age of 60. In an odd turn of events though, young children had a higher survival rate than adults. For children under the age of 12 the mortality rate was only 2%.


    In the end it was determined that nearly 95% of the world¡¯s population was infected and approximately 1 billion people died in the course of a few weeks. Almost no family escaped unscathed. But people picked themselves up, mourned their dead, and life went on. It wasn¡¯t until a little over 9 months later that the full cost of the infection was revealed.


    The first two documented superhuman children were born at almost exactly the same time. Tanaka Kurosagi, born at the Otaru Municipal Hospital in Otaru, Japan, turned into a wolf pup in his mother¡¯s arms no more than three minutes after his birth in full view of the medical staff. Purportedly, for the first few months of his life he never spent more than five minutes as human or wolf except when breast feeding because his mother refused to let him continue when he turned into a pup in the middle.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Amy Flannigan, born at St. Mary¡¯s Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin, literally flew from the doctor¡¯s arms and into her mother¡¯s. They had to keep a net over her crib at night to prevent her from floating up to the ceiling in her sleep. Mrs. Flannigan apparently lived in mortal fear of open windows around her child until Amy was at least 8 years old.


    It has since been discovered that other superhuman children were born before these two, but their powers were not evident until later in life. Regardless, nearly 40% of the children conceived after the infection were born with some form of superhuman ability, ranging from the inconsequential to the truly awe-inspiring. That number has only gone up since, with last year¡¯s numbers approaching 75%. The social, economic, political, and even religious ramifications from the introduction of a rapidly growing superhuman population have been nothing less than staggering.


    <ul>


    <li>Excerpt from Birth of the Supermen, by Dr. Arthur Beedle, Ph.D.</li>


    </ul>


    Prologue


    Most people still think of super villains like they are in the old comic books. They live in secret bases on volcanic islands, laugh maniacally, and have massive battles with heroes that result in horrendous levels of property damage. Admittedly there were a few that seemed to be trying to live up, or down, to that stereotype. But this super villain much preferred his lavishly appointed offices on the top floor of one of the highest buildings in downtown Tokyo.


    The windows were all tinted armor glass that offered a spectacular view of the city. His desk was impressive, made of solid ebony with an interactive holographic display built into the top surface. His personal chair was covered in supple black leather and was exceptionally comfortable. It was also ludicrously expensive, though that was due to the many concealed systems built into it.


    There were a couple chairs facing his desk, comfortable but nothing out of the ordinary. There was a private elevator, a liquor cabinet, a few plants, and the doors leading off to his private quarters. There was also a tall, generic looking guard standing next to the elevator doors. Of course the guard could quickly obliterate anyone or anything without at least a Class-7 Armor rating at the man¡¯s slightest indication.


    At the moment the man was looking at the back of his hands. They hardly seemed like his hands anymore. The liver spots, the papery skin, the withered flesh, they seemed like the hands of a man who¡¯d seen at least a century pass. And yet he was barely a third of that age.


    The wasting disease, known colloquially as ¡°the Burnout¡±, had been diagnosed less than 2 years ago. Today the best healers he could buy or ¡°acquire¡± were barely enough to keep him alive. There were admittedly more powerful healers, but they were too well guarded and tracked to be viable for his purposes. And even with a high class Sensor it would take a miracle to find a powerful enough healer in hiding. But that¡¯s where the young man sitting in front of his desk came in.


    More a boy really, not even old enough to drink legally. And with the boy¡¯s good looks and big, sparkly blue eyes girls¡¯ hearts were no doubt set a-flutter at the very sight of him. But that was of no concern. What interested the man was that this boy was reputedly the finest assassin on the planet.


    ¡°You guarantee success, even considering the target?¡± he asked the boy.


    The young man smiled. ¡°I never accept a job if I can¡¯t guarantee success.¡±


    He stared into the boy¡¯s eyes for a moment, and then looked to the display projected from his desk. He typed a few quick commands and then returned his eyes to the boy. ¡°Your payment is authorized. $10 million now, the remaining $40 million on confirmation of the target¡¯s death.¡±


    A wavering distortion appeared in the air as the boy stood up. ¡°No worries, the bloke¡¯ll cark it by morning. Pleasure doin¡¯ the Bizzo wit ya.¡± The boy gave a mock salute as he stepped through the distortion and disappeared, the distortion vanishing with him.


    The man sighed and turned to look out the window. He¡¯d have preferred to use someone from his own organization, or at least someone with a more professional attitude. But no one else had the necessary skill set to guarantee success, not without starting a war.


    It didn¡¯t matter though, he¡¯d get what he wanted, and he¡¯d torture and kill whomever he needed to do so. All told, it was the same as any other day.

 Chapter 1

    Leena hated Calculus class.  To be more specific, she hated her Calculus teacher.  She¡¯d never met a bigger bigot in all her life.  How the man even kept his job as a teacher was a mystery.  By the look on his face she could swear he was a hair¡¯s breadth away from an aneurism every time he was forced to give her an A.  That was the nice thing about math, as long as she showed her work and got the right answer there were no subjective qualities the bastard could use to deduct points from her.


    While the situation had been truly contentious at the beginning of her senior year, it was now only a few weeks until graduation.  Over that time Mr. Siler had gravitated from barely restrained hostility to ignoring her existence to the best of his abilities, a sentiment Leena whole heartedly returned.  It wasn¡¯t her fault she was born an Almost.


    ¡°Almost¡± was a derogative term for superhumans that looked ¡°almost, but not quite¡± human.  Supers generally fell into one of 3 appearance categories.  There were the ¡°Norms¡±, supers that looked entirely like a normal person, regardless of how extreme their powers.  The Morphically Challenged, or ¡°Mutants¡±, were supers who didn¡¯t have a chance in hell of passing for human.  The most common was the ¡°hybrid¡±, supers that looked like half-human half-animal escapees from The Island of Dr. Moreau.  Though there were other types, like a man made of organic metal or a woman made of crystals.


    ¡°Almosts¡± were supers that looked almost entirely human, but with one or two details that made them disturbingly ¡°other¡±.  They were also the least common, accounting for only about 3% of supers.  For some reason supers almost always looked entirely human, or unmistakably not.  Differences in Almosts could include cat eyes, a forked tongue, shark teeth in an otherwise human mouth, fur instead of hair on the head, pointed ears, etc.  In the typically perverse nature of mankind, it was the ¡°Almosts¡± and not the ¡°Mutants¡± that took the brunt of negative emotions directed at supers, even from other supers.  Leena had never really understood why the Almosts got the short end of the stick.


    She had plenty of personal experience with the discrepancy though.  In her own grade was Timmy Clayton, a fox hybrid that looked exactly like you¡¯d imagine a 5¡¯8¡± anthropomorphic fox to look.  Everybody loved Timmy and strangers went out of their way to be nice to him.  Even Leena liked Timmy, after all he was a nice guy.  But people took one look at Leena and did their best to repress an involuntary shudder.


    Leena wasn¡¯t hideous, far from it in fact.  She was admittedly tall at 6¡¯4¡±, and had the athletically sculpted body of an Amazon.  Her face might not have been supermodel worthy but she was definitely pretty.  No, the shudder came from her white marble-like skin, dark blue lips, and the neon blue bioluminescent hair that, when not braided, hung down to her knees.  Of course the most disturbing thing was probably her eyes, which were a solid white.


    She was broken out of her thoughts by a tap on the shoulder.  She turned around and was confronted by a gape-mouthed, cross-eyed face with shiny bubbles inflating and deflating from each nostril.  It took every ounce of control she had not to burst out laughing.  Despite her best efforts she still snorted a laugh out her nose.


    ¡°Is something the matter, Ms. Brightwater?¡± came Mr. Siler¡¯s voice.  His tone implied that Leena was the matter.


    ¡°No, Mr. Siler,¡± she responded with an even voice.  It wasn¡¯t even hard to suppress her smile after hearing her teacher¡¯s voice.


    He continued to glare at her for a moment before returning to his boring lecture on probability functions, which was practically verbatim from the textbook.  Once sure his attention was given over fully to his own voice, Leena turned back to glare at her best friend.  He just smiled his charming smile.


    Greg was a super, but his power was ridiculous.  He could blow shiny bubbles out of his nose, control their movement, and pop them with a sound and force equivalent to a pop-cap firework.  While it was great for practical jokes and entertainment, his power didn¡¯t exactly make him a prospect for the Superhuman Response Team.


    As luck would have it the bell rang and no one wasted a second making a beeline for the door.  Once in the hall Leena hung back just enough so she could smack Greg upside the back of the head, as lightly as possible of course.


    ¡°Ow!  Dang it, Blue, what was that for?¡±


    Leena glowered.  ¡°You know damn well what that was for.  Mr. Siler and I have finally reached a cease fire and you¡¯re trying to reignite the war for your own amusement.¡±


    Greg smirked.  ¡°I can¡¯t help it, Blue.  You¡¯re just so cute when you¡¯re glowering at that self-righteous windbag.¡±


    She almost laughed.  Not only was cute just about the last word anyone would use to describe her, her glower usually sent people running like The Beast had just landed in front of them.  Nevertheless, the corners of her lips quirked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care how ¡®cute¡¯ you think my glower is.  There¡¯s less than a month til graduation and I¡¯d like to make it without being forced to shove that bastard¡¯s head literally where it usually resides figuratively.¡±


    Greg took a moment to process that before he burst out laughing.  Just before he could make a response his girlfriend slid in next to him and looped her arm through his.  She seemed to appear out of nowhere, which was a distinct possibility since she was a Concealment Class-4.


    ¡°Hey guys, how was class with the Super Nazi?¡±


    Leena grinned.  ¡°Hey, Katie.  It was going fine until Bubble Boy here tried to break the peace agreement.¡±


    Katie glowered at her boyfriend, and Greg did his best to explain himself.  ¡°Whoa, I just saw that Blue seemed to be feelin¡¯ the Blues, and I tried to cheer her up.  I didn¡¯t mean for the King of the Jerk-offs to take exception.¡±


    Katie gave him a look and then turned to me.  ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth.  Are you feeling okay, Leena?¡±


    Right, Telepath-4/3.  Add in the Flight-7 and she was so obviously out of Greg¡¯s class that no one, not even Leena, could figure out how they wound up together.  Especially since with her wavy black hair, sparkly green eyes, and killer figure Katie was one of the 10 prettiest girls in the whole school.  She¡¯d actually asked Katie why she was with Greg and it still didn¡¯t make any sense to her.


    ¡°I suppose,¡± she said slowly.  ¡°It¡¯s just the usual stuff sneaking up on me.  It¡¯s kind of hard to stay upbeat when there are mothers that hide their children as you walk down the street.¡±


    Katie let go of Greg and stepped up to Leena¡¯s left side, pulling her into a side hug.  The comfort was much appreciated and Leena returned the hug.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t worry about people like that,¡± said Katie.  ¡°Most of them are willfully ignorant morons with their heads firmly planted up their butts.¡±


    Leena glanced at Greg, and remembering her own comment from a few moments ago they both snickered.  Katie was about to ask what was so funny when a voice shouted out, ¡°Hey Thomson!  You¡¯d better watch out, it looks like BBD is tryin¡¯ to steal your girl!¡±


    Leena stiffened at the words and looked over to the source.  Jason Vetters was undoubtedly the most handsome boy at the school.  Athletically sculpted physique, movie star good looks, perfect teeth, sparkling green eyes, and thick light-brown hair perfectly styled.  He also had a pretty great power set, was looking to be valedictorian of the class, and yet for some reason seemed to be doing everything he could to live up to the overused stereotype of the douche-bag jock.  He was currently standing about fifteen feet away in front of a row of lockers.  He was also escorted by a sizeable number of male and female groupies.


    The bastard was smirking at her and Leena¡¯s fists tightened.  She was about to tell him to fuck off when Katie linked her right arm with Leena¡¯s left and started tracing her left index finger up and down Leena¡¯s arm.  She looked up at Leena¡¯s face with an adoring expression so over-the-top it was just plain goofy and said in a breathless voice, ¡°Oh Leena, would you really steal me away?¡±  Leena felt her jaw unhinge and her mouth drop open.


    Greg raised his hand to his heart in mock indignation.  ¡°Katie, how could you?!  Well, she can¡¯t steal you if she steals me first!¡±


    He stepped over to Leena¡¯s right side and wrapped his left arm with her right, tracing the index finger of his right hand up and down her arm in a mirror imitation of Katie.  He looked up at her with an adoring face even more ridiculous than Katie¡¯s and said, ¡°Oh Leena, won¡¯t you please steal me away?¡±


    Leena lost it.  She was laughing so hard it was difficult to draw enough breath to keep laughing.  She had to rest one of her arms on the nearby lockers just to support herself.  Greg and Katie were laughing right along with her, as well as most of the students who had witnessed the exchange.  Everyone except Jason and his entourage.


    Jason glowered at her, and then turned around and stalked off, his loyal groupies following behind him.  Leena and her friends finally pulled themselves together.  Leena smiled at both of them.  ¡°You guys are great, you know that?¡±


    Katie just smiled at her but Greg puffed out his chest and said, ¡°Of course.  I thought that was obvious.¡±  Katie and Leena simultaneously punched him on opposing arms, lightly of course.  He rubbed at the spots and looked mournfully to the heavens.  ¡°Why is it my lot in life to be abused by women?¡±


    Katie sidled up to him and pulled him into an embrace.  ¡°You love it and you know it,¡± she said.


    ¡°Mm, indeed I do,¡± he said as he pulled her close for a kiss.  After a moment he stepped back and released an exaggerated sigh.  ¡°Alas, I must leave you now, but never fear, for we shall meet again when the final bell tolls.¡±


    Leena smirked and Katie chuckled as she gave him a shove to see him on his way.  ¡°Oh, beat it you goofball.¡±  Greg smiled and gave us a final salute before heading off to his last class of the day.  Katie smiled at his retreating form and shook her head.  She looked to Leena and said, ¡°Come on, we¡¯d better go before we¡¯re late to class.¡±


    As they walked Leena said with a smile, ¡°I still don¡¯t get what you see in him.¡±


    ¡°I keep telling you, he¡¯s cute, funny, and really, truly likes that I can read his mind.  Not just is ok with it, which a lot of guys say but really they¡¯re totally freaked out, but actually likes it.¡±  She gave Leena a narrow glance and let a wicked smile appear on her lips.  ¡°Also, it doesn¡¯t hurt that he¡¯s absolutely fantastic in the sack.¡±


    Leena nearly spit.  As it was she was grateful that she couldn¡¯t blush.  Regardless, they both descended into a giggle fit that they barely managed to suppress before arriving at class.  They¡¯d just slid into their seats when the bell rang.


    Superhuman Studies was a 1 or 2 year course, depending on whether you actually had any superhuman abilities.  Considering the number of children born with powers had grown to more than 70% in the 40-odd years since the first appearance, it probably wouldn¡¯t be long before it was a mandatory 2 years for everyone.  Year 1, taken in the junior year, covers superhuman origins and history, what powers are currently known to exist, and how they¡¯re classified.  If you are superhuman then you take Year 2 and it covers superhuman current events and laws, practical application of powers, and preparation for licensing tests.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Not every superhuman had to be licensed.  You didn¡¯t need a license until you were 18 (with the exception of passive Bricks above Class-4 and a few other inherently dangerous powers), and then you were only required to have one if you were Class-4 or higher, or intended to use your powers for work.  If you weren¡¯t licensed and used a power publicly or for work, except in emergency situations, you could be subjected to fines and/or criminal prosecution, and you were liable for any property damage or physical injury resulting from the use of your power.


    The school actually had the capability to test the most common powers to at least Class-3 and in some cases as high as Class-6.  There were designated test days with anywhere from 2 to 5 active and passive ability tests lined up.


    Leena had mixed feelings about Superhuman Studies.  She liked the class and she really liked the instructor, but that was the problem.   The first day of class in her junior year had been the most embarrassing day of her life and was the source of the moniker Jason the Douche had used to heckle her, BBD: Big Blue Dyke.


    To be fair she wasn¡¯t a lesbian, but she wasn¡¯t exactly straight either.  Physical sight was not her primary form of perception, so male/female played a very limited role in attraction for her.


    On her first day of class that year she took one look at the teacher and was struck dumb.  Ms. Linders was drop dead gorgeous from anyone¡¯s perspective.  She had long, lustrous black hair, dusky skin, pouty lips, big gorgeous hazel eyes, and a body that might well shame Aphrodite.  The fact she chose to be a teacher was mind-boggling.  Every straight male in her classes positively drooled at the sight of her.  Leena¡¯s downfall came from the fact that that day, she¡¯d drooled too.


    Leena saw Ms. Linders physically just like everyone else, but it was the primary aspect of her perception that rendered her speechless.  Leena¡¯s first crush had been the summer when she was 13 years old, on a 32 year old man who¡¯d moved in three houses down from them.  Luckily, that infatuation was still her little secret and she¡¯d be taking it to the grave.  What she¡¯d seen in him she saw in Ms. Linders, only magnified by a factor of 10.  For the first time in her life Leena was actually physically aroused just looking at someone.


    Anyone, boy or girl, is perfectly free to go gaga over anyone of the opposite sex they want and the worst that can generally happen is they¡¯ll get laughed at.  While homosexuality had ¡°officially¡± become a social non-issue, on a personal level you still faced the fact that jackasses will be jackasses.  So when you¡¯re that obvious about someone of the same sex then ¡°the fit hits the shan¡±.  Not only did most of the students notice her infatuation, but so did Ms. Linders.


    So her social status among her peers took a pretty substantial hit, but for the most part it faded into obscurity as such things will with the sole exception of the most diehard assholes.  The more immediate and embarrassing situation was that Ms. Linders kept her after class and gave her a ¡°talk¡±.  It was hands down the single most mortifying experience of her whole life.


    As Ms. Linders began to address the class Leena had to admit she was still infatuated with her, she just made sure it didn¡¯t show anymore.  The black slacks and white blouse Ms. Linders was wearing accentuated her figure so well it took a good portion of Leena¡¯s self-control not to stare.


    ¡°Okay everybody, it¡¯s a testing day.  Brick and Armor.  Everyone to the back of the room, you know the drill.¡±


    There was some grumbling, but everyone knew this was coming.  They started with the rare powers at the beginning of the year and worked their way to the most common.  This was one of the last two testing classes and Brick and Armor were so common that it would take this testing day and the next one to do everybody.


    The Superhuman Studies room was divided into two unequal parts.  The front of the room consisted of the desks, holographic boards, and televisions that were used during normal classes.  The rear of the room was a testing area that was about 4 times larger than the front section.  The equipment in the testing area changed depending on what was being tested.  Today it was filled with hyper-dense weights, an impact machine, and a Plasma Field Device (PFD).


    Once all the students had congregated at the back Ms. Linders addressed them.  ¡°Because Brick and Armor abilities are commonplace, and because low level Armor abilities may go unnoticed, we¡¯re not going to single anybody out, everyone will be doing these tests.  And as with all other tests even those of you who have already been licensed will still be participating.  If you are one of those without a Brick or Armor ability, don¡¯t worry, this equipment does have Class-0 ranges.¡±  A few people let out audible sighs of relief.


    Ms. Linders smiled.  ¡°We¡¯re going to do this in alphabetical order and right down the line of equipment.  You¡¯ll go Brick, Physical Armor, and then Energy Armor.  The weights go high enough to grade to Brick Class-4.  The Impact Machine can grade to the upper end of Physical Armor Class-5.  And the Plasma Field Device grades as high as Energy Armor Class-4.  As with all previous testing if you are graded to at least Class-4, whether active or passive, the State Licensing Board will be notified and you will receive licensing information for that ability at the end of class.  Those of you already licensed don¡¯t need to worry about that.  That being said, Stacey Abrams, you¡¯re up first.¡±


    Stacey stepped out of the group and walked over to the weights.  She was a skinny, nervous looking brunette with glasses.  The glasses were unusual because most supers didn¡¯t have eye problems, with the sole exception of astigmatisms.  No one was sure why, or at least a reason hadn''t been made public.


    She was a Class-3 Ice Elemental and had no Brick abilities, which explained her nervousness.  There were only 5 sets of free-weight bars already pre-loaded, and 3 of the sets were on electromagnetic platforms.  The Class-0 bar was loaded to 200lbs and each of the others was set to the minimum of the Class divisions: 1000lbs, 3000lbs, 8000lbs, and 20000lbs.  You did a dead-lift with the bar and if you succeeded you tried the next one until you couldn¡¯t lift.  Actual licensing would narrow down the maximum weight, but this testing was just for the Class cut-offs.


    She went to the Class-0 bar and just barely managed to lift it with Ms. Linders spotting her.  Considering her size it was actually pretty amazing she managed it.  She obviously couldn¡¯t even budge the Class-1 bar.


    ¡°Very good, Stacey,¡± said Ms. Linders.  ¡°Now let¡¯s move to the Impact Machine.¡±


    The Impact Machine looked like a simple box that you put your hand in.  Inside it, though, was a 1 square-centimeter pneumatic cylinder and a crap load of lasers and other measuring equipment.  The cylinder was fired into the back of your hand at ever increasing speeds until some threshold was reached.  Leena didn¡¯t really understand how the machine worked, she just knew it cost more than most people''s cars.  It was also the only safe method to test Physical Armor outside of a multi-million dollar facility.


    Stacey stuck her right hand in the device and Ms. Linders pushed a button on the side next to a digital readout.  The machine started up with an audible whir and as it sped up Stacey started to grimace.  It came to a dead stop after about 20 seconds.


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± Ms. Linders said with a smile as Stacey removed her hand from the machine.  ¡°It appears you have a Physical Armor Class of 1.¡±


    Stacey looked surprised, as did several other students.  Though not as precise as Brick ratings, Physical Armor tended to go hand-in-hand with the Brick Class.  No Brick ever had a Physical Armor Class lower than their Brick Class, though some did have higher.  It was actually pretty rare for someone without Brick abilities to have any ratable level of Physical Armor.


    ¡°Alright Stacey, last one.¡±  Ms. Linders powered up the PFD.


    People called it a Plasma Field Device, but really it was just a specialized Vandergrift Generator.  Once it was discovered that there was a direct, though inexact, correlation between all forms of energy resistance ¨C electricity, temperature, radiation, etc. ¨C they developed the Plasma Generator as a benchmark test.  A laser passed at a set distance from the small metal sphere where the energy built and you placed the tip of one of your fingers so it just broke the beam.  The energy in the machine rose and your rating was determined by how much charge it had to build before it could shock you.  Most people found it extremely irritating.


    Stacey placed her right index finger in the beam and the machine started to charge.  Everyone was quiet as the machines hum continued to build.  Finally, just shy of the 3 minute mark, it happened.  Zap!  ¡°Ahh, damnit!¡± shouted Stacey as she started shaking her hand and hopping around.  ¡°Mmnn-huhuhu-mmnn!¡±  issued from her clenched lips in a testament to just how painful the shock was.  No one laughed though.  After all, their turn was coming.


    When Stacey finally had herself under control Ms. Linders gave her a big smile.  ¡°It would appear that you officially have an Energy Armor Class of 4.  Be sure to see me for the licensing packet at the end of class.¡±  Stacey gasped.  It was clear she hadn¡¯t expected to have any ability strong enough to warrant mandatory licensing.  Admittedly Armor licensing was used only for dangerous environment limitations, but it still required licensing when strong enough.


    Stacey returned to the group with congratulations from her friends.  It was well deserved, as less than a third of the class would require mandatory licensing for any ability at all.


    ¡°William Anderson, you¡¯re next,¡± called Ms. Linders.  A tall, lanky blonde kid walked over to the weights.  He did his best on all the tests and walked away with a Class-0 in all three tests.  As a Telepath-3/2 it wasn¡¯t unexpected.  People with mind powers seldom had physical enhancements.


    ¡°Leena Brightwater, your turn.¡±  Leena nervously approached the weights.  She was nervous for two reasons.  First, this would be the first time she actually did any of the tests.  Everybody knew she was strong and resilient, but this is the first time she¡¯d be showing just how strong and resilient she really was in front of an audience.


    Second, she hadn¡¯t come forward when her primary power was originally discussed in class.  No one outside her family knew about it, and all of them did their best to keep it that way.  Since she could use her primary power to increase her strength she was also technically cheating on the testing.  If you could actively augment a normally passive ability you were supposed to announce it so you could be tested for both active and passive levels.


    Leena lifted the first four sets of weight without any effort, to the widening eyes of her fellow students.  It only took her a minimal amount of real effort to lift the last and heaviest bar.   One of the boys let out a low whistle, though considering where Leena saw his eyes looking that was for the way her breasts strained against her black T-shirt when she lifted the bar overhead.


    As she set it down Ms. Linders gave her an assessing look and an easy smile.  ¡°Brick-4 at least.  That¡¯s excellent Leena.  Be sure to see me for the licensing information at the end of class.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Leena mumbled.  She was not comfortable with the way everyone was staring at her, but Katie was giving her a thumbs up which made her smile.  She stepped over to the Impact Machine and put her right hand inside.  Ms. Linders started the machine and Leena began to feel the rapid tapping of the piston on her hand.


    Leena could tell the impact was increasing in intensity as the time ticked away.  The constant ¡°tap-tap-tap¡± was actually kind of annoying.  Finally the machine stopped and she pulled out her hand.


    Her breath hitched when she saw Ms. Linders smile.  ¡°Physical Armor 5+.  I¡¯m impressed Leena.  If you max out the next machine you¡¯ll be my first student this year to beat all 3 tests.¡±


    Leena reminded herself to stay calm as she held her hand out toward the Plasma Generator.  Why couldn¡¯t it be someone her own age that made her feel this way, instead of the hottest teacher at school?  Or even just someone she didn¡¯t have to interact with on a daily basis.


    The machine started up and the hum began to build.  A few minutes went by and the hum started to reach annoying levels when finally the generator cut off.  That meant it was getting to the point it was more likely to arc to the floor than zap her.


    The students started clapping and Ms. Linders stepped right up next to her and placed a hand up on her shoulder, all the while beaming a thousand-watt smile.  Her close proximity and the physical contact were too much and Leena felt tingles running through her body.  It took all her self-control to breathe evenly.  Thank God neither her bra nor shirt was made of thin material.


    ¡°Congratulations, Leena.  With these results you should seriously consider applying to NSTI.  The SRT is always looking for people with high Armor rankings.¡±


    She managed to gather enough brain power to mumble a quick ¡°Thank you¡± before slipping away back to the crowd.  Damned hormones.


    Leena slipped back into the crowd of students as Ms. Linders called the next name.  Katie sidled up next to her.  ¡°Damn girl,¡± she whispered, ¡°you¡¯ve been holding out on us.  Greg and I thought you were a Brick-3 at best.¡±


    Leena shrugged and tried not to look chagrined.  ¡°I just don¡¯t think it¡¯s that big a deal, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Not a big deal?¡±  Katie sounded just a little incredulous.  ¡°Here I¡¯ve been letting you smack my boyfriend around and you don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re a Brick-4+¡±.  Leena was worried and started to protest but Katie continued, ¡°If I¡¯d known I could have been threatening Greg with you all this time.  I could get you to hold back from smacking him and then threaten him to let you start up again, only harder.  Seriously Leena, you don¡¯t keep this kind of possible relationship leverage from your friends.¡±


    Leena had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing as Katie grinned up at her.  Katie gave her a quick side hug and said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it Leena.  I know you¡¯re too careful to risk rattling my boyfriend¡¯s already rattled brain.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I think,¡± Leena mumbled as they returned their attention to the testing.


    They were about two-thirds through the class and about one-third through the students when the classroom door opened.  Mr. Flanagan, the Social Studies teacher from across the hall, strode in.  ¡°Sorry to interrupt Ms. Linders, but I think you all need to see this.¡±


    Before Ms. Linders could ask him what this was about he walked up to the TV in the corner of the room and turned it on.  As the picture resolved into a Breaking News report he turned up the volume.  The newswoman was reporting outside a large compound.


    ¡°¡­nated.  Again, we have just received confirmation that the Healer Prime has been assassinated.  Details are sketchy and government officials are being tight-lipped on how this was allowed to happen and whether or not the assassin has been apprehended.  So far the only word we have is that the Healer Prime has been pronounced dead at the scene.  We are currently waiting for¡­¡±


    Leena tuned the rest out as the class started to erupt in speculative whispering.  They were talking about why someone would kill the Healer Prime, how they could do it, and who would replace him.  Leena¡¯s own thoughts were perhaps a bit more callous.  I¡¯m screwed.

 Chapter 2

    Being called to the Director¡¯s office was never good.  Agent Stanson had been around long enough to know that.  He was about to be asked to do something extremely important, top secret, or technically illegal.  Probably a bit of all three.


    He came to the end of the white-walled blue-carpeted hallway that led to the Director¡¯s office.  Stacy, the Director¡¯s secretary, was busily sorting files and notes at her desk and generally looking harried and doing her best to ignore the flashing lights on her phone.  How a short, 38-year-old brunette woman could look so much like an irritated dragon he¡¯d never understand.  Agent Stanson cleared his throat to get her attention.


    She looked up at him like he was an insignificant insect that had had the audacity to smear its guts on the bottom of her shoe.  Agent Stanson wondered briefly if secretaries got training for that look.  ¡°The Director is expecting you, go on in,¡± she said, and returned immediately to her obviously more important work.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said as he passed, though he didn¡¯t expect or get a response.  He pushed through the polished oak doors that led to the Director¡¯s office.  As he entered the Director was on the phone and held up a finger to indicate Agent Stanson should wait.


    Stanson took the time to glance around the Director¡¯s office.  The place was a testament to elegant functionality.  There were a few paintings on the walls, tastefully historical of course, a leather couch, some filing cabinets, a couple of leather chairs facing the Director¡¯s polished cherry wood desk, and the Director¡¯s own high-backed leather office chair.  There were also a couple of dying plants scattered around in order to ¡°liven up¡± the space, including a small palm tree by the windows.  The Seal of the Bureau of Superhuman Affairs was prominent on the carpet, which looked much like the Seal of the NSA only the eagle was replaced with a burning phoenix.


    The Director¡¯s appearance didn¡¯t quite match the office.  His suit was perfect for the setting, but the man himself looked like a grizzled war vet, which he was.  And at nearly sixty years old he was one of the few ordinary humans still working for the BSA.


    The Director finished his call saying, ¡°I don¡¯t care if your head gets shoved through a wall, just make sure she¡¯s up and ready to go!¡±  He slammed the phone down and looked to Agent Stanson.  ¡°I take it you¡¯re aware of the current clusterfuck.¡±


    Stanson nodded.  ¡°If you are referring to the Healer Prime¡¯s assassination, then yes.¡±


    The Director started a document printing.  ¡°There are only two logical reasons to assassinate the Healer Prime.  One is political, and I¡¯ve already got a few dozen people working on that angle.¡±  He slid the finished document across the desk and Stanson picked it up.  ¡°The second reason is so that someone like you can locate the next most powerful healer, likely someone in hiding.  If that¡¯s the case then we¡¯re already behind in the game.¡±


    Stanson glanced at the paper in his hand.  It was three names and directions to a private airstrip. He recognized two of the names immediately as they were some of the highest rated assets in the National Superhuman Response Team, the policing force of the BSA.  He had no idea who the third person was.


    ¡°I need you to do a quick reading for healers right now,¡± said the Director.  ¡°Then I can arrange proper clearance for wherever you¡¯ll be heading.  Then you¡¯ll go immediately to the airstrip on that document and lead the three people on it to the new Healer Prime for retrieval on behalf of the UN.¡±  He gave Stanson a hard stare.  ¡°And you won¡¯t take ¡®no¡¯ for an answer.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir.¡±  Stanson kept his reservations to himself.  It was becoming disturbing how often civil rights were ignored with regards to those with extremely useful abilities, especially healers.  Still, he put such thoughts aside and began to tune his senses to the emanations of healing energies.


    As a Sensor, Stanson possessed an ability highly coveted by governments and the powerful.  He could detect powers and determine the location of a superhuman individual.  As a Class-7 his range covered nearly three-quarters of the planet, though detail dropped off with distance.  Within 10 miles he could tell you exactly where each powered individual was, what their power was, what class they were, and if they were actively using their powers he could determine specific details about their power¡¯s operation and limits.  Over larger distances it turned into a vague comparative analysis and distance and direction could become muddled if there were multiple emanations of the same type.  After about 50 miles he could only sort out the strongest ability of each type as the emanations grew too diffuse.  Otherwise there wouldn¡¯t be anyone with powers ¡°in hiding¡±.


    He sorted through the various emanations as he narrowed in.  There¡¯s no real way to describe an additional sense to someone who lacks it, the best he could do was to attribute each type of emanation to a ¡°feel¡±.  Healing energies were cool, peaceful, and calming.  When he got a lock on the strongest emanation his eyes popped open in surprise.


    ¡°Um, sir.¡±  The Director¡¯s full attention was on Stanson.  ¡°The emanation is coming from roughly the same area as the Healer Prime¡¯s compound.  And if I¡¯m not mistaken, it¡¯s the same emanation I¡¯ve always picked up from that area.¡±


    The Director¡¯s eyes widened.  ¡°Do you mean to tell me that a more powerful healer has been using the Healer Prime as a cover?¡±  Stanson nodded.  ¡°Fuck!¡±  The Director picked up his phone and started to dial.  ¡°Get your ass to that airfield, now!¡±


    Stanson didn¡¯t waste a moment rushing from the building as the Director started shouting into the phone.  Under the circumstances it was fortunate that it should take less than an hour to get close enough to the signal to determine a precise location.  The Healer Prime had been able to heal damned near anything, with the exception of some of the most severe genetic diseases and a couple of the more aggressive ¡°super¡± bugs that had shown up in the last 40 years.  Stanson had seen footage of the Healer Prime re-growing someone¡¯s entire arm in less than 2 minutes.  And apparently his signal had been so far beneath this one that they hadn¡¯t even competed, making it impossible to determine there was a second powerful healer in the area.  And Sensors of any real ability were so rare that the chances of one coming close enough to tell were almost non-existent.  And he''d never bothered or been ordered to check for Healers when he''d been close enough to the Healer Prime''s compound to be able to tell himself.


    Whoever this healer was they needed to be found, and fast.  The U.S. Government might be an unwelcome task master, but it was better than nearly all of the alternatives.


    *****


    Tabitha growled at the pounding on the door that had woken her from sleep.  It was supposed to be her day off and she¡¯d spent the previous night and a decent portion of the morning having a very good time with Angela before she¡¯d stumbled into her own apartment to sleep.  That was less than three hours ago.


    ¡°What the fuck is it?!¡± she shouted at the door.


    ¡°Get your ass in gear, Athena!¡± came a man¡¯s voice from outside the apartment.  ¡°We¡¯ve got a Code Red situation and you¡¯ve got a Priority One mission.  If your ass isn¡¯t in the transport bay in 5 minutes you¡¯ll be fined $50,000 for every minute you¡¯re late.  If you¡¯re not there in 10 minutes I¡¯m sending Alex to fetch you.¡±


    Good old Dave, such a sweet guy.  Tabby groaned as she rolled out of bed.  The threat of fines wouldn¡¯t have budged her, but threatening to send in her big brother let her know this was really serious.


    Despite the rush she was careful to make sure she was awake and in enough control before she got dressed.  As the second strongest person on the planet she had to be.  Her ¡°uniform¡± was made of some of the toughest material on Earth, able to survive high-powered explosions without a scratch.  It was basically a silvery-white tank top, skin tight black pants, and combat boots.  But if she wasn¡¯t careful she¡¯d tear it like tissue paper.


    She splashed some water on her face at the bathroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror.  She hated how she looked.  She was pretty, if androgynous, and she did like her eyes, but she¡¯d always liked blue.  No, her problem was her hair and body in general.  She had the definition of a world-class body builder with none of the bulk, and her black hair was an upswept 2 inches long.  Her hair didn¡¯t grow and it couldn¡¯t be cut, and it wasn¡¯t even really long enough to style.  She¡¯d been constantly mistaken for an androgynous boy before puberty set in and she developed breasts.  But the damned things were big enough they looked out of place next to her obvious musculature, especially the 8-pack abs.


    Of course the worst part was that she looked like a teenager.  It wouldn¡¯t be so bad, if she wasn¡¯t almost 35.  She could throw a tank over the horizon line but nobody took you seriously when you looked like you were still in high school.  Thanks to her appearance one of the douchier members of the NSRT called her ¡°the Perpetual Baby Dyke¡±.  Unfortunately the bastard was a Speedster and she couldn¡¯t catch him, which was probably why he had the balls to say it.


    Tabby gave up on her reflection with a sigh and walked out of the bathroom, through her modest bedroom and living room, and out of her apartment.  The moment she opened the door her entire baring changed, going from moderate control to absolute control.   It was a subtle change and hard to see.  It was the difference between trying to navigate a narrow hall without bumping into something, and trying to navigate a narrow hall lined with razors and booby traps.


    It was commonly called ¡°the Plight of Hercules¡±.  For a passive Brick, Class-4 was pretty much the upper limit of being able to live normally among non-Bricks.  Above that level the ¡°resistance¡± of normal objects became too low for a Brick to even register.  It was easy for a Brick-5 to snap silverware, tear off door handles, and break other people¡¯s bones, all without meaning to because they didn¡¯t realize they were applying too much pressure.


    The problem got worse the higher up the chain you went.  As a Brick-9 Tabby could walk through reinforced concrete walls and not even notice the difference from air if she wasn¡¯t paying attention.  With one casual, careless gesture she could take out a wall or take off someone¡¯s head.  So when outside her apartment she had to maintain absolute awareness of her surroundings and absolute control of her movements.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Her apartment was her sanctuary, though you wouldn¡¯t think so to look at it.  There was a queen-sized bed, a nightstand, and a dresser in her bedroom.  There was a loveseat and a coffee table in her living room.  And there was a small table with two chairs in the kitchen.  At a glance you¡¯d think the total value of the things in her apartment was less than $10 grand.  The truth was the items in her apartment were worth nearly $200 million.


    Aside from being made with some of the strongest synthetic materials on the planet, the supports of all her furniture were coated in Olympium, worth about 100 times the value of platinum.  A Genius-type superhuman had created the material almost 30 years ago for a junior-high science fair.  Olympium was considered, for all practical purposes, indestructible.  Tabitha couldn¡¯t casually damage Olympium, but with a judicious application of strength she could bend and break it, making her one of only four known supers on the planet that could even damage it.


    Tabby climbed the stairs to the ground level and made her way to the transport bay.  There was an elevator, but the buttons were sensitive and Tabby tried to avoid pressing anything that didn¡¯t have at least half an inch or so of give to it.  After about a dozen buttons had been turned into ¡°holes¡±, it had been ¡°recommended¡± that she start using the stairs.


    The transport bay was a giant parking garage stuffed with black SUVs, armored black SUVs, and APCs.  The government wasn¡¯t big on variety.  There were three people standing next to one of the black SUVs, two of which she recognized.


    Dave was there, dressed as always in his impeccable gray suit.  As the NSRT liaison, PR guy, and general team babysitter, he felt he always needed to look his best.  The other guy she recognized was Steve, aka Hurricane, a Class-8 Wind Elemental and every PR Department¡¯s wet dream.  Undeniably gorgeous and exceptionally charming, there was probably a poster of Hurricane in every teenage girl¡¯s bedroom.  Tabitha had actually been present when a woman fainted from excitement when Hurricane walked passed in his skintight, white and gray armored suit.  To make matters worse he wasn¡¯t even secretly a narcissistic asshole, he was an authentically nice guy.  He irritated Tabby to no end.


    She didn¡¯t know who the other guy was, but he looked kind of weasel-y.  She was guessing Intelligence Division.  As she walked over to join them she figured she was about to find out.


    ¡°Athena,¡± Dave said, and then gestured at the weasel-y man, ¡°this is Agent Strom.¡±  Tabitha nodded to him, high-level passive Bricks did not shake hands.  Agent Strom nodded back and Tabby noticed him wince around the eyes as he did so.  She knew that wince.  It was the ¡°I just stubbed my mental toe trying to read you¡± wince.  So, Strom was a telepath.  Tabby didn¡¯t particularly care for telepaths, but since she had Class-5 Psychic Armor they didn¡¯t pose any personal threat to her.


    Of course, most people didn¡¯t like telepaths.  Even disregarding the horrifying things the more powerful ones could do, telepaths tended to have serious psychological issues, megalomania and god-complexes just being the most obvious.  Nearly 40% of all telepaths went ¡°villain¡±, and another 10% suffered psychotic breaks before they were 20.  The remaining 50%, while functional, still tended to have some pretty major mental hang-ups.


    Case in point, just looking at Strom, Tabby could tell he was going to be a control freak and a major pain in the ass.  When he spoke he just confirmed her opinion.  ¡°I¡¯ll be leading this mission,¡± he said.  ¡°You¡¯ll take your direction from me, and we¡¯ll be meeting up with another team member at the airstrip.  I expect my orders to be followed to the letter.¡±   He leveled a hard stare right at Athena when he said that, Tabby just stared back at him blandly.  ¡°We¡¯re already behind schedule so let¡¯s move out.¡±


    Strom circled around to the passenger door and climbed into the SUV.  Dave gave Athena and Hurricane a shrug, said ¡°Be careful¡±, and walked out of the transport bay.  Hurricane gave Tabby a grin and jangled the keys.  ¡°I¡¯m drivin¡¯, hop on in.¡±  He opened the back door for Tabby.


    As she went to step in she asked, ¡°Just what is our mission, anyway?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re picking up the new Healer Prime.¡±


    Tabitha scoffed.  ¡°So they finally found someone better than old sourpuss, that¡¯s great.  But why the hell is that a Priority One mission?¡±  Steve looked at her funny.  ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You seriously don¡¯t know?¡±


    Tabby gave him an exasperated look.  ¡°Know what?¡±


    ¡°The Healer Prime was assassinated this morning.  It looks like it was the work of a professional known as Gateway.  Brass expects we may have to fight to keep, or possibly even reclaim, the new Healer Prime.¡±


    Tabby mouthed a silent ¡°Oh¡± as she finished climbing into the back of the SUV and Steve shut the door.  This was not how she wanted to spend her day off.  And killing someone like the Healer Prime just to flush another healer was a big time move, seriously big time.  Depending on who was behind it, even she and Hurricane might not be enough.


    ***************


    Ares watched the girl walk into her house.  She was tall, maybe even an inch or so taller than him.  And the glowing blue hair was certainly distinctive.  Ares and his men were one of six teams with Sensors placed equidistant on the Earth to find the new Healer Prime when the old one was assassinated.  They¡¯d lucked out that she happened to be not only in their zone, but in New York which was where they were stationed.


    Marcos had tracked the healer girl down while she was still at school, but considering the day was almost out they decided to grab her on her way home rather than risk it in such a crowded place.  Then Ralph, their techie, pulled all the digital information there was on her and they quickly established Secondary and Tertiary target roles, not that they¡¯d ever needed the Tertiary, but it paid to be professional.  He also let them know her house was only a half a block from the school on the other side of the street.  At that point they agreed they¡¯d just do a house grab.


    He refocused his eyes back into the van and turned to Phil in the seat next to him.  ¡°Start running the numbers.¡±  Phil nodded and closed his eyes.  Ares touched the sub-vocal mike in his ear.  ¡°Everyone get ready, we go in as soon as Phil finishes running the numbers.¡±  A chorus of ¡°yes,sir¡± came back over the encrypted line.


    He turned his attention back to the house, but glanced over at Phil.  Ares considered Phil something of a lucky find.  Precogs were damned rare, less than 30 on the whole planet and most of them not good for anything more than a few seconds of awareness into the future.  Phil was unique in that, instead of seeing generally into the future, if you gave him a set of variables for an event he could tell you the outcomes and probabilities up to two hours out.  He couldn¡¯t tell you the ¡°How?¡±, which could be a pain, but it was still damned useful.  So when they¡¯d picked him up they¡¯d taught him everything they could about tactics and battle operations.  Now they used him to determine which approach had the highest odds of success.


    Suddenly Phil¡¯s eyes popped open in what Ares was pretty sure was surprise, maybe even fear.  ¡°Zero,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    He looked Ares straight in the eye.  ¡°Zero.¡±  Yes, that was definitely fear he saw.  ¡°In every scenario I run we have a 0% chance of success.¡±


    Ares felt his own eyes widen.  ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be shittin¡¯ me?¡±  Ares himself was a Class-7 Brick and a Class-8 Kinesthetic, and that disregarded the myriad powers of the rest of his team.  Short of offensive Class-9s they should be able to handle nearly anything.


    Phil shook his head.  ¡°No,¡± he hesitated a moment.  ¡°In fact, in nearly all the scenarios I¡¯ve run, there¡¯s a forty to eighty percent chance we all die.¡±


    Ares was incredulous, this was just a healer for Christ¡¯s sake.  But he knew better than to question Phil after all this time.  Time to double check some info.  He touched the ear mike.  ¡°Marcos, are you fucking sure this girl¡¯s our healer?¡±


    Marcos¡¯ voice came back over the line.  ¡°Yeah I¡¯m sure.  The emanations are practically knocking me off my feet at this range.  Why?¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure she¡¯s not a Bio-Elemental?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a fucking amateur, boss.  I know the difference.¡±


    ¡°What about secondary powers?¡±


    ¡°Sorry boss, we¡¯re too far out.  You know my Deep Read is only good to a hundred yards.  Why the twenty questions?¡±


    Ares practically hissed into the mike, ¡°Because we¡¯ve got an absolute zero on Primary Target retrieval, that¡¯s why!¡±


    There was a moment of dead silence over the link, and then a chorus of voices proclaiming there was ¡°no way¡± that could be, some of them quite colorful.  After a few moments of this Ares shouted ¡°Quiet!¡± into the mike.  ¡°Marcos, do a walk by, that should get you close enough for a deep read.  But don¡¯t stop and keep your thoughts clear, the father¡¯s a telepath.¡±


    ¡°On it, boss.¡±


    They waited while Marcos did his thing.  Ares saw him as he rounded the corner of the block and made his way past the girl¡¯s house.  He was a plain looking Latino man, if obviously in good shape.  As a mercenary, those plain, forgettable features were a definite asset.  Because he was watching he saw when Marcos nearly tripped himself as he passed the house.  As such he pretty much expected the uncertainty in Marcos¡¯ voice when he came back on the line.


    ¡°You were right, boss, something ain¡¯t right here.¡±


    ¡°Spare me the commentary, Marcos, what are her secondary powers?¡±


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s an upper end Brick-4 and she¡¯s armored up the wazoo in every division.  I don¡¯t think even The Beast could put a dent in her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡±  This didn¡¯t explain why the girl would be impossible to capture.  There had to be something else.


    ¡°No.¡±  There was a slight pause.  ¡°Sir, there¡¯s something off about the Healer emanations when I do a Deep Read.¡±


    Marcos sounded, almost, distressed.  ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like the difference between Cold Elementals and Ice Elementals, we Sensors can only tell the difference using a Deep Read.  This is the same.  She¡¯s definitely a Healer, but she¡¯s something different.¡±  There was another hesitation.  ¡°Sir, I can¡¯t tell what that difference is, but something about that emanation scared the crap out of me.  And I don¡¯t mean it made me nervous, I mean it somehow reached into my hindbrain and said ¡®run for your fucking life¡¯.  I damn near bolted like a rabbit.  I¡¯m still covered in cold sweat.¡±  Another pause.  ¡°Sir, Phil¡¯s right, we go for this girl and we¡¯re all fucking dead.¡±


    Considering Phil¡¯s own assessment, and the fact he¡¯d seen Marcos laughing and taunting a Class-6 Fire Elemental as he dodged heat blasts that could reduce steel to molten slag, he took Marcos¡¯ words very seriously.  ¡°Alright, Marcos.  Everyone, we¡¯re moving to Secondary Targets, standby.¡±


    He turned to Phil.  ¡°Run the numbers.¡±  Ares watched Phil as he closed his eyes and concentrated.  He knew he was in for more bad news when Phil punched the dashboard and screamed ¡°Fuck!¡±


    Phil looked at Ares.  ¡°The father¡¯s out, too.  Before the girl got here we had a 96% chance of a clean grab and a 100% success probability.  Now there¡¯s only a 2% chance of success, and in that scenario you escape with the father and the rest of us die covering you.  In fact, we have higher odds of dying trying to grab the father than we do if we just go for the girl.¡±


    Ares rubbed his temples.  If he were capable of getting stress headaches, he¡¯d have one.  What was initially one of the simpler jobs they¡¯d ever taken was quickly turning into one of the most complicated.  ¡°And the brother?¡± he asked.


    Phil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.  ¡°That one¡¯s a mess.  The brother¡¯s at the NSTI, and a Class-7 Fire Elemental to boot.  Way I run it we¡¯ve got about a 34% chance of a successful grab and even odds between failure and the death of the target, which is still technically a failure.  Any way it goes we¡¯ve got a near 60% chance that at least one of us dies.¡±


    Ares wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel, but he¡¯d just break the damned thing.  ¡°Sweet holy fuck, are you telling me we actually have to hit the Tertiary Targets?¡±  Phil nodded.  ¡°God damn it!¡±  Ares sighed and asked, ¡°So what are the numbers?¡±


    Phil closed his eyes a moment.  ¡°100% on the boy and 92% on the girl.  The girl¡¯s a 7-flight and a 4-concealment, so we¡¯ll need Marcos and Al on that one.¡±


    Ares closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Damn.  He activated the mike.  ¡°Guys, we¡¯re moving on the Tertiary Targets.  Phil¡¯s sending the data and team breakdown.  Let¡¯s move.¡±  He heard some disbelieving muttering over the line as he started up the van.  Phil sent the data over the encrypted link as Ares pulled off into traffic.


    He¡¯d been a mercenary since he was 19 years old.  He¡¯d been in charge of his own team since he was 22.  In the 16 years since, he¡¯d only had to move to Secondary Targets twice on a pick up, and on both occasions because of external interference.  Now he¡¯d had to move to the Tertiary Targets on what should have been a milk run.  And no one was going to believe it was because a ¡°healer¡± was too damned dangerous.  When he thought of how this would affect his reputation he almost wanted to cry.

 Chapter 3

    Leena walked in the front door only to be greeted by a crushing hug.  Well, as crushing as a normal person could manage at any rate.  She hugged her dad back and looked down at his worried face.  He let her go and stepped back.  ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to have much time,¡± he said.


    Leena sighed and closed her eyes as she nodded.  ¡°I know, dad.  Even if they aren¡¯t already here they¡¯re certainly on their way by now.¡±  She wished she could do something about the lines of worry on his face, but that was something she couldn¡¯t fix.  Well, to be precise it was something he wouldn''t let her fix.


    Her dad let loose his own sigh and led her through the jungle of their house to the living room.  And she meant jungle literally, the inside of their two-story house had more in common with a botanical garden than a living space.  Her dad was a Class-3/3 Telepath and Class-4 Plant Elemental, and telepath/elemental was a damned rare combination.  Unlike most Plant Elementals under Class-6, her dad¡¯s unique combination actually made him able to ¡°talk¡± to plants, which also made him quirky.  There¡¯s nothing like watching your dad bust a gut laughing because the ficus told him a joke.


    As they walked into the living room several plants reached out to touch her father in sympathy, though they retracted to avoid her touch as she passed.  She didn¡¯t take it personally, it was self-preservation.


    Her dad sat in his favorite dark brown recliner and she sat on the matching couch, setting her backpack down next to her.  Normally she¡¯d sprawl but she was too nervous not to sit up straight.  ¡°Your brother called,¡± her dad said.  ¡°He wanted to know what we were going to do.  I told him there was nothing we could do.¡±


    He sounded so sad, and Leena wished she could make him feel better, but she couldn¡¯t.  ¡°We¡¯ve known this was coming, dad, ever since I was five.  Sooner or later someone was going to notice me, and then they¡¯d come.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he sighed.  ¡°I just wish it had been later, much later.¡±  Her dad looked old at that moment, though he wasn¡¯t.  At 42, Joseph Brightwater was one of the oldest superhumans alive, but he barely looked 30.  Though you could only vaguely make out his Native American ancestry in his features he was still proud of his heritage.  He always said he didn¡¯t know if it was irony or fate that the descendant of a line of medicine men would turn out to be a Healer.


    Healers were understandably coveted, but only one type was so desired that they were basically enslaved.  Accelerators and Regenerators weren¡¯t exactly common, but neither were they rare.  As their powers were most useful for injuries they often worked as surgeons and EMTs.  And nobody in their right mind would risk the wrath of a Bio-Elemental.  With absolute control of living flesh, a pissed off Bio-Elemental is basically the definition of ¡°a fate worse than death¡±.  But ¡°True¡± Healers, more properly named Energy Healers, were too valuable for their own good.


    Very little but death was beyond the abilities of a powerful True Healer.  There were some nasty ¡°super¡± diseases out there that even Bio-Elementals couldn¡¯t heal but wouldn¡¯t stand up to a True Healer, though there were a couple of truly insidious ones that no known True Healer could handle either.  Tests done with the ¡°assistance¡± of the Healer Prime had shown that even decapitation was reversible if treated quickly enough.  Only trauma that caused instantaneous death, with destruction of the brain or a significant amount of the body, would fell someone with access to the stronger True Healers.


    Up until about 10 years ago True Healers were often kidnapped along with their whole families by criminals and the powerful, their families held hostage to the Healer¡¯s cooperation.  In some countries it was the State itself that did so.  As such all of the True Healers that could went into hiding, refusing to use their abilities for fear of what would happen to them and their families.


    Due to the world powers¡¯ desperate desire for the services of True Healers, in 2058 the UN ratified the Healer Accords.  Under this provision the kidnap and forced servitude of a True Healer was made a worldwide capital crime, without the need for a trial.  The provisions were so strict, in fact, that someone could walk into a building and kill every person in it, and if they walked out with a True Healer that testified they were being held against their will not only wouldn¡¯t the person be prosecuted, they¡¯d likely be given a medal.


    This encouraged some True Healers to come out of hiding, the optimists.  But when it became apparent that, while True Healers were being protected, they were effectively being made wards of the State, the emergences stopped.  No True Healer has willingly come forward in more than 8 years, anywhere.


    The Healer Prime, until his death earlier in the day, had been Healer Prime for the last 27 years.  He was discovered by government officials and taken into government custody when he was only 11 years old.  Anyone who had seen a picture or video of the Healer Prime knew for a fact that he did not want his position.  If he¡¯d had any abilities that would have allowed him to resist the government and defend himself he would have done so.


    Leena had no desire to fill his shoes, and their family gave thanks for the fact that between when Leena was born and they discovered she was a Healer that she¡¯d never been more than 20 miles as the crow flies from the Healer Prime¡¯s compound on the edge of New York.  That meant unless a Sensor actually walked in between her and the Healer Prime¡¯s location while actively searching for Healers she was unlikely to be found.  This wouldn¡¯t have been as much of a concern ¨C since everyone knew that Sensors could only pick up the strongest signals at a distance ¨C if Leena¡¯s first act of healing hadn¡¯t been something everyone considered impossible.


    Most healers are identified as infants by their families, usually because they unconsciously heal injuries they receive.  Because of Leena¡¯s high armor rating she never suffered injuries to heal.  When she was just 3 months old they pulled her unharmed from the mangled wreck in which her mother had died.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    But when Leena was 3 years old they got a kitten.  He was an adorable little tabby that Leena named Tigger, for his tiger-like stripes and his tendency to jump all over everything.  He was a cuddly cat, but like all cats would only cuddle on his own terms.  In his case that was pretty much all the time, any time, even if it was inconvenient for you.  She loved that cat, and he¡¯d even curl up next to her at night to sleep.  He was her best friend in the world, up until her first day of kindergarten.


    Her father brought her home nearly in tears that day.  She was the only ¡°Almost¡± in her class and several the other kids made fun of her and called her names.  Then when they opened the front door Tigger came streaking out of the house.  He¡¯d been trying to escape to the outside lately and they usually paid attention to prevent his breakouts, but that day they were both too preoccupied to stop him, and David wasn¡¯t home since he had school for another two hours.  Thus, as they turned to try and catch him, they were just in time to see him run into the street and get crushed by a car.


    Leena remembered that moment vividly.  There¡¯s no way to shake watching half of your beloved pet practically explode as tires run over him.  And the car never even slowed down.  The accident was a 1 in a million chance, as they lived on a road that saw very little traffic, especially during midday.  As Leena ran screaming for her cat, she already knew his life was gone.


    And Leena knew that not because she understood the injury was too severe to survive, but because she actually saw his life leave.  Her primary perception of the world was the life energy all around her, from microscopic life floating like fog in the air to plants, animals, and people.  She never told anyone because, as a child, she assumed everyone perceived the world like she did.


    She knew even then that there was no qualitative difference between the life energy of a person and the life energy of a bug, it was all the same stuff.  The differences lay in quantity, containment, and flow.  Bigger things tended to have more life and better containment, which kept the energy from leaking away as quickly.  It would take her years to figure out what the flow meant, but she knew it was important, though most people and things had flows like a muddy creek.


    So when she saw Tigger¡¯s life energy dissipate in a flash she knew he was gone.  But as she kneeled on the road next to him, glowing blue tears streaming down her face, she refused to accept it.  As she put her hands on her cat, her best friend, she willed him to live, and in that moment forced life energy into him.  And forced is the right word, she pushed enough life energy into her cat to account for an entire city.  At the time she didn¡¯t know where she got that much life from, and considering the results she hadn¡¯t cared.


    The back half of her cat¡¯s body, which had been completely destroyed, began to regenerate so fast it was hard to see.  In a few seconds her cat was whole and alive!  But it didn¡¯t stop there, he started to grow, first 2, then 3, then 4 times his original size.  All the while he was wiggling on his back and purring up a storm.  He appeared to be feeling way too good for a cat that had recently been deceased, and he glowed in Leena¡¯s vision like a tiny sun.  But she didn¡¯t care, she had her Tigger back.


    She picked him up and held him with his head on her shoulder, a feat only possible now because of her Brick strength.  She turned to her father with a huge smile on her face and Tigger purring happily in her ear.  What she saw made her smile dim.  She saw the wonder on her father¡¯s face, but also a dawning sense of horror.  He looked up and down the street, seemed massively relieved that it appeared no one had seen anything, and quickly ushered her and their now massive cat into the house.


    Leena watched her father spend the next couple hours trying not to have a panic attack and mumbling to himself how they could explain a cat nearly the size of a Doberman.  When David got home his jaw dropped at the sight of an over-inflated Tigger lying across his sister¡¯s lap.  Their dad explained what happened, and then explained what it meant.


    No Healer, anywhere, could raise the dead, it wasn¡¯t believed to be possible.  That meant Leena was the most powerful Healer out there, by far.  And that meant people would want her, the government and bad people, not necessarily mutually exclusive groups.  By the end David was sitting next to Leena holding her in a hug as they both tried not to freak out.  A month later they moved into a new house less than 4 miles from the Healer Prime¡¯s compound and spent the next 13 years praying no Sensor would ever notice her.


    So now they sat, waiting for ¡°someone¡± to show up, government or otherwise, because they knew it was only a matter of time.  Tigger chose to break Leena¡¯s musings by jumping on the couch and resting his giant head on her thigh.  He still glowed like a tiny sun to her, and he hadn¡¯t aged a day since she healed him.  In fact, Leena guessed old age for Tigger was probably many thousands of years away now, at least.  She¡¯d since learned to finesse her ability, but the side effects of Tigger¡¯s uncontrolled healing were highly evident.


    Aside from his increase in size, Tigger had come out of his healing stronger, faster, and more resilient.  If he were measured in human terms he¡¯d probably be a Brick-2.  He was also smarter, at least as smart as a human, even if he couldn¡¯t talk.  But he understood English just fine and could even read, having learned right alongside Leena.  That had come as something of a surprise.  He had his own ebook collection, mostly space opera and sci-fi.  He wanted to travel the universe someday.


    Of course he was still a cat, and that meant if he placed his head on your lap he expected you to scratch his ears.  Leena did so, and his body relaxed as he started purring.  Leena had to smirk at a cat that was smart enough he could do calculus and be addicted to cheesy sci-fi movies but still got absurd levels of enjoyment from having his ears scratched and chasing a tennis ball around the house.  Then again, that lift to the mood had probably been Tigger¡¯s intention.


    She looked over to see her father with a small smile on his lips.  ¡°You are a wonder, my angel.  No matter what comes, remember that.¡±  She felt like she should say something, but Tigger jerked her leg.  When she looked down at him he stared into her eyes and nodded once, to say he agreed with her father.  Then he closed his eyes and went back to purring.  Leena wanted to cry, but she willed herself not to.


    The doorbell rang.  They looked at each other, and then her dad stood.  He walked over and placed his hands to either side of her face and kissed her brow.  He pulled back and gave her another smile.  She could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he was trying not to cry.  ¡°We¡¯ll be alright, angel.  No matter what lies ahead, we¡¯ll make it through.¡±  And with that he turned and walked off to answer the door.  Leena¡¯s whole world was about to change, and she didn¡¯t think it would be for the better.

 Chapter 4

    Stanson did his best to ignore Agent Strom, not that Strom was the man¡¯s real name.  Stanson had been downright shocked to see him at the airfield, but he¡¯d contained it well before anyone could notice.  He knew enough to act like he¡¯d never met the man before, but he was one of maybe a dozen people who knew who Strom really was.  The fact that guy was here said a whole hell of a lot about just how serious the Director had been when he¡¯d said not to take ¡°No¡± for an answer.


    When Stanson had first arrived at the airfield the team he was to meet was waiting for him next to a private jet.  Hurricane and Athena were easily identifiable in their ¡°uniforms¡±, and Strom was wearing a suit that practically screamed ¡°Agent¡±.  It was the kind of clich¨¦d suit you expected the ¡°men in black¡± to wear.  Stanson¡¯s own suit was custom tailored.  Of course he would have been happy with a more casual off-the-rack suit from a generic clothing store, but his wife insisted on quality.  One of the perks of a rare and highly sought power was the pay.


    Introductions had been brusque, with Agent Strom reiterating some variation of ¡°We need to hurry¡± for every minute it took to get the jet in the air.  Currently Strom was near the cockpit speaking fiercely but quietly into his phone, trying to arrange god knows what.  Hurricane was seated across from Stanson doing his best to pretend he was reading a paper, but Stanson could tell he was listening to Strom¡¯s conversation because as Strom continued to talk the tension around Hurricane¡¯s eyes gradually increased.  Speaking quietly didn¡¯t prevent eavesdropping by someone who could control air.


    Athena was sitting a few seats back looking out the window and moving around as little as possible.  Stanson hadn¡¯t been able to resist doing a Deep Read on one of the small number of Class-9s on the whole planet.  The girl ¨C no, woman, he reminded himself ¨C defined the term indestructible.  He imagined that having to treat the entire world like it was made of rice paper was its own special kind of hell.


    He felt the instant the new Healer Prime entered his defined radius as the emanation solidified into a specific point.  Strom had apparently been paying attention to Stanson¡¯s mind because he immediately hung up his phone and made a beeline back to Stanson¡¯s seat.  Stanson deeply wished he had Class-5 Psychic Armor, sadly he was only a Class-4 in that regard.  It could be worse, he reminded himself, without at least a Class-3 rating he would¡¯ve been confined to a secure location and had a squadron of bodyguards with Psychic Armor surrounding him anytime he was let out.  One of the drawbacks to a highly sought after power.


    ¡°Well?¡± Strom demanded as he stood over Stanson.  He didn¡¯t bother to clarify the ¡®what¡¯.


    ¡°The Healer is currently 9.7 miles northeast and closing fast,¡± he said.  He pulled out his phone and pulled up a specialized GPS program designed by the government exclusively for him.  He quickly plotted out the rough position of the Healer and brought up the location via satellite imagery.  ¡°It looks like the Healer will be just inside my defined zone from where we¡¯re landing at.  I won¡¯t be able to pinpoint the Healer¡¯s exact location until we stop moving.¡±


    Strom nodded.  ¡°Good.  Are there any other supers in the Healer¡¯s immediate vicinity, and if so what are they?¡±


    Stanson didn¡¯t need to be a Telepath to know what Strom wanted.  If the Healer had supers as family, friends, or roommates and they were licensed then they might be able to determine the Healer¡¯s identity before they were on scene.  Stanson did a quick check.  ¡°There¡¯s one,¡± he said.  He performed a quick Deep Read.  ¡°A combination mid-level Class-3/3 Telepath and high-end Class-4 Plant Elemental.¡±


    Strom smiled, and it wasn¡¯t pleasant, though Stanson understood why.  That combination was almost as rare as a Class-9, so determining who it was that lived in that area would be exceedingly simple.  Strom went to one of the jet¡¯s built-in computer terminals and logged into the BSA network.


    They hadn¡¯t even touched down yet when he announced, ¡°Got it.  Our Healer is almost certainly Leena Brightwater, daughter of Joseph Brightwater.¡±  He pulled up a picture of her on a large screen toward the front of the jet just as they touched down.  Stanson gawked, right along with Hurricane and Athena.  The girl was an Almost, in fact she damn near bordered on Mutant her appearance was so distinctive.


    ¡°The girl just turned 18 three weeks ago, so luckily we won¡¯t have to deal with any of the restrictions on handling minors,¡± said Strom with a satisfied air.  Stanson grimaced, and so did the two NSRT agents.  They knew what Strom really meant was now it would be easier to take the girl kicking and screaming if they had to without causing a PR nightmare.


    As they taxied to the hangar where their transport waited Strom turned back to Stanson.  ¡°Do a Deep Read on her.  I want to know exactly what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±  Stanson suppressed his desire to glare at Strom and nodded.  He began the Deep Read, and was promptly glad he was sitting down because otherwise he¡¯d have fallen flat on his ass.


    Ho-ly Shit!, was the only thought going through Stanson¡¯s mind.  Strom was hovering over him before he¡¯d managed to reclaim his equilibrium.  ¡°What is it?! What¡¯s going on?!¡± demanded Strom.


    Stanson took a few moments to sort out what he was feeling.  ¡°This girl,¡± he said, ¡°isn¡¯t a normal Healer.¡±  Strom looked at him with an emphatically implied ¡®And?!¡¯ ¡°She¡¯s an Energy Healer, but only in the same sense that a Rock Elemental is still technically an Earth Elemental.  She¡¯s something I¡¯ve never sensed before.¡±  He gave all of them a serious look, and they noticed the sweat that had broken out on his brow.  ¡°And whatever she is, she¡¯s obscenely dangerous.¡±


    All of their eyebrows went up, and Strom asked disbelievingly, ¡°How so?¡±


    Stanson held up two fingers.  ¡°Two ways.  First, and least important, she¡¯s not just a Healer.  She¡¯s also an upper-end Class-4 Brick and she¡¯s Armored across the board pretty much as well as Athena here.¡±  Strom looked thoughtful as he nodded for Stanson to continue.  ¡°And secondly, and most importantly, my ability tells me so.¡±


    The jet came to a complete stop as he said this.  Athena and Hurricane looked at him curiously, but Strom asked derisively, ¡°What do you mean, your ¡®ability¡¯ tells you so?¡±


    Stanson did his best to repress a raised eyebrow, and his irritation, at Strom¡¯s asshole act, and he knew it was an act.  Regardless, he held up his right hand, and they could all see it was shaking.  ¡°That¡¯s the fading adrenaline from an instinctive fight or flight reaction caused by my Sensor abilities.  Most Sensors wouldn¡¯t even realize what it was it¡¯s so rare.  I¡¯m likely the most powerful, and certainly the most widely used, Sensor on the planet.  And I¡¯ve only ever done 3 other Deep Reads before that caused it.¡±  He looked intensely at Strom.  ¡°The Flesh Lord.¡±  He turned to Hurricane as Strom¡¯s brows drew down in concern.  ¡°The Siren.¡±  Hurricane grimaced as he turned to Athena.  ¡°And The Beast.¡±  Athena¡¯s eyebrows nearly made it to her hairline.


    They all looked at each other, sharing the concern of this new information.  Then Athena smiled.  As the jet¡¯s main door opened she said, ¡°It seems my lost day off might be worth it yet.¡±


    *****


    Tabby looked at the yard of the two-story house they¡¯d pulled up outside.  It was very well manicured and all the bushes, flowers, and grass looked vibrant and healthy, but it didn¡¯t seem like the kind of yard one would expect of a plant elemental.  Of course it likely would¡¯ve been extremely high-maintenance for a normal gardener.


    There had been yet another black SUV waiting for them at the airstrip and the ride to their destination had been both short and silent.  Strom spent the whole ride looking thoughtful after Stanson¡¯s revelation.  As for herself, Tabby was rather excited.  This healer girl was apparently on the same playing field as The Beast and her curiosity was most definitely piqued.


    Strom addressed them all before they got out of the vehicle.  "Stanson, you''re going to take the lead talking to the girl and her family."  Stanson raised an eyebrow and Tabby was intrigued as well. She didn''t think Strom was the type to give up control of an operation.  Of course, then he kept speaking.


    "You''re our ''soft sell'' option.  If you can''t get the girl to agree to come with us then I''ll take over as the ''hard sell''."  He gave Stanson a grave look.  "Let''s hope you''re convincing enough that proves unnecessary."


    Hurricane took the moment of silence after that comment to ask, "And what are me and Athena here for?"


    Strom gave them both a condescending look.  "You''re here to be easily recognizable and pretty public figures while providing security if it''s needed."  Tabby bristled a bit, but before either she or Steve could say anything Strom''s voice turned cold.  "You''re also here in case we have to go with the really hard sell.  And if Stanson is to be believed, we should all pray that doesn''t come to pass."


    Tabby felt the bottom fall out of her stomach.  She could tell the same was true for Steve and Stanson by the looks on their faces.  And for the three of them it wasn''t because of Stanson''s warning.  It was because the "really hard sell" would basically amount to kidnapping the girl on behalf of the government.  If push came to shove, she wasn''t sure she could actually do it.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "Alright, let''s get to it."  As Strom said that he opened his door and exited the vehicle.  Tabitha and the others shared one last look, then exited the vehicle as well.  Tabby was a bit slower as she had to be extra careful not to break the door.


    The walk to the house''s front door was both short and incredibly long.  Tabby''s body was mostly on auto-pilot from all the training she''d done over the years, her eyes and ears sweeping the area looking for anything unusual and potential threats.  But her brain was in an ever deepening quagmire.  She''d never agreed with the way the Healer Prime was treated, but she''d never been personally involved.  Now she was participating in an operation that would severely curtail and undermine the freedom and rights of a teenage girl, all in the name of the supposed "greater good".  The extreme moral questionability was enough to make her nauseous, a feeling that for her could only be psychosomatic.


    Regardless of her feelings, they reached the door of the house and Strom rang the doorbell.  Nearly a minute later, as Strom was about to ring the doorbell again, the door opened on a lightly tanned man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties.  Of course Tabby had seen the files that Strom brought up and knew this was the girl''s father, Joseph Brightwater.


    Strom went right to it.  "Mr. Brightwater, we are with the NSRT and are here on behalf of the United States Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.  We would like to speak with your daughter.  May we come in?"  That last sentence may have seemed like a request, but it most assuredly was not.


    Mr. Brightwater had a sadly resigned smile on his face that made Tabby''s heart clench.  "Of course, we''ve been expecting you,"  he said, and stepped aside to allow them entrance.  Strom lead them into the house and Mr. Brightwater closed the door behind them.


    The inside of the house was more in line with what Tabby would expect of a Plant Elemental.  There was vegetation ab-so-lute-ly everywhere.  The only visible free space seemed to be the walkways in-between the various plants.  There were trees, bushes, ferns, vines, grasses, and even weeds of numerous variety.  Tabby had seen in the files earlier that Mr. Brightwater was the Assistant Director of the New York Botanical Gardens.  She assumed he''d acquired samples from there to create this seemingly private replica.


    As they walked down the hallway to what Tabby hoped would be a normal room, the plants reached out to touch Mr. Brightwater as he passed.  From this Tabby knew that these plants were all "awakened", a term used for plants constantly exposed to the energies emanating from Plant Elementals which granted them a form of consciousness and mobility that shouldn''t be possible without a muscular system.


    Tabitha didn''t dislike Plant Elementals, but she tried to avoid them.  The reason stemmed from the fact that as she walked down the hall, the plants all started getting touchy-feely with her too.  She had no idea why, but "awakened" plants seemed to be completely fascinated by her, and she found the questing leaves, vines, and branches a little creepy.


    She saw Mr. Brightwater pause for a moment and turn back to look at her.  For just a second there was a flash of surprise on his face that washed away the sadness in his eyes, but it passed all too quickly as the sad, resigned expression returned.  He turned away from her and continued down the hall.


    At last he led them into a nice living room with a few chairs and a large sofa, with plenty of plant-free space.  The hallway was by no means long enough for an "at last" feeling, but to Tabby it may as well have been.  She was just so happy to finally be far enough from any plants that they couldn''t keep examining her like she held the answers to existence itself.


    Finally paying attention to the actual room, there she was, Leena Brightwater.  She was sitting on the sofa with a giant tabby cat in her lap and a book bag at her feet.  And she was staring straight at Tabby, a completely enraptured look on her face.  There was only one thought in Tabitha''s head when seeing that look:  Huh?


    ****************


    Ares stood at attention in front of a desk.  If it had been possible there would have been cold sweat running in streams down his back.  The splendor of the Tokyo skyline outside the windows could not draw his attention from the seemingly old, frail man sitting behind the desk before him, his current employer.  Ares didn''t normally directly meet with his employers or even know who they really were, they and himself preferring to keep a buffer layer of plausible deniability between them.  But when Ares turned over the "acquisitions" and reported on the job he''d been directed here to explain himself.


    Despite the lackluster results of the mission due to unforeseen factors, Ares had originally approached this meeting calmly with little worry besides the bad mark for his reputation.  He''d even brought Marcos and Phil with him to help better explain the situation.  But now, knowing who his employer was, he deeply regretted even hearing about this job, let alone accepting it.  And he realized he may have just dragged two of his subordinates and friends into the bowels of hell with him.


    There were relatively few people in the world who would know the identity of the person sitting behind the desk, and Ares was unfortunately among those.  Unfortunate, because he knew exactly what kind of horrid fate awaited them if this man was not pleased with their results.  This man referred to himself as Tokigami, though the western world, enamored as it was with Greek and Roman codenames, referred to him by a different title: Chronos.


    The public believed there to be only 3 "Monsters", or "Gods", independent supers with powers that made them basically invincible.  The truth was there were only 3 because those were the ones who made a big splash on the world stage.  In reality there were at least 6, the other 3 happening to prefer subtlety and anonymity.   Tokigami was one of them.


    This man basically ruled half of the entire underworld, and speculation was that it would already be all of it if his attention hadn''t been stolen by one of the most horrible super-diseases to spring up in the last 40 years, "the Burnout".  Frankly, the fact the man was still alive after 3 years was a testament to both his resources and ruthlessness.  Seeing him now, Ares was well aware of just how precarious a tightrope he and his men were walking.  What was essentially a matter of Tokigami''s life and death had now become a matter of theirs.


    Tokigami steepled his fingers in front of him and said in a tired voice, "I''ve read the report on your mission, Mr. Nichols."  Ares flinched, very few knew his real name was Aaron Nichols, and even they afforded him the courtesy of using his assumed name.  "I hired you because you are one of the best mercenary units in the world, with success rates rivaled by very few.  That being said, I would like to hear why I should find your rather lackluster results in the face of no outside interference... acceptable."


    Ares gulped.  He knew that convincing Tokigami that their results were the absolute best that just about anyone could have done was the only way he and his men were leaving this room alive.  As such, he needed to make a request before he started his explanation.


    "Sir, is it possible to have someone capable of Truth Reading brought in for my report?"  Marcos and Phil looked askance at their leader, both for his deferential attitude and his request.  In their line of work it was considered insulting to have their word doubted to the point of bringing in a Truth Reader.  But they had the comfort of not knowing just who it was they were facing.


    Tokigami stared at him for a moment, before nodding his head at something behind Ares'' group.  "I happen to always have a Truth Reader with me, Mr. Nichols."  Ares looked back at the guard standing next to the elevator that brought them to this office.  The man nodded his head slightly.  Ares turned back to face Tokigami.  "You may begin your report."


    And so Ares recited everything about their mission, from initial target tracking and assignment, to the results of Phil''s pre-cognition abilities and Marcos'' Deep Read and their ultimate acquisition and delivery of the Tertiary targets.  At the end Tokigami glanced to the guard who slightly nodded his head.  He then refocused on Ares.


    "Well, at the very least you believe everything you''ve said to be true.  Still, I can''t help feeling quite... disappointed."  Sensing that things may be heading in an unfavorable direction, Ares turned to Phil.


    "Phil!"


    Phil looked a little startled.  "Yes sir?"  God, how Ares envied Phil''s ignorance.


    "I need you to run some numbers.  If we had a Teleporter send us immediately to retrieve the Primary target, what are our odds of success and chance of death.  Similarly if our employer chose to send his own forces to assist us."


    Ares could sense the questions Phil wanted to ask him, but he simply sent back a look that said ''Just do it!''  And so Phil closed his eyes and ran the numbers.  When he opened them he gave the response Ares was expecting, and oddly quite happy to hear.


    "We have a 0% chance of success and a 99.8% chance of total team wipe.  Though I don''t know what forces our employer might send to aid us, the results are similar, a 0% chance of success and a 98.9% chance of total team wipe."


    Ares did his best to hide a relieved smile when he saw the guard nod towards Tokigami.  He had to try even harder when Tokigami sighed and began to rub his temples.


    "Well, this is an unexpected development."  He sighed again.  "Very well, I accept that you did the best you could under the circumstances.  However, your pay will be halved.  I trust that is acceptable."


    "Most acceptable, sir."  He could sense that his colleagues wanted to protest, but he gave them a subtle hand sign to remain silent.


    "You are dismissed."  With that Tokigami brought up a projection from his desk and promptly relegated their group to irrelevance.  This suited Ares just fine as he gathered up Phil and Marcos and practically fled past the guard into the elevator.


    As they went down it was Marcos that spoke up first.  "Boss, just what the hell was that?  You practically just bent over and let that asshole ride you bareback."  With the way Phil was looking at him, Ares could tell Phil felt the same.


    "Phil,"  Ares said, "if we gathered up the team and went back up to that office to demand our full pay, what are the odds we get out alive?"  Phil looked at him like he was losing his mind.  "Humor me, Phil."


    And so Phil shrugged and closed his eyes.  A few seconds later he shivered and broke out in sweat.  He looked at Ares with a shocked and slightly thankful expression.  Marcos seemed a bit confused, but quickly seemed to realize what Phil''s condition meant.  "Boss, you mean...?"


    "That''s right.  We all just barely got out of that room with our lives.  That man is someone none of us can afford to offend."  That got both of them quiet and thinking.


    As the elevator arrived back at the ground floor Phil asked, "So what are we going to do now, Boss?"


    Ares sighed.  "We''re going to collect our pay, and then promptly forget we were ever here and that the man we just met even exists.  Then we''re going to lay low until this particular fiasco is over and hope it doesn''t come back to bite us in the ass.  Understood?"


    "Sure thing, Boss."  "Definitely."  Came their responses.  And as they left the elevator Ares took a moment to think.  He had enough money at this point to live lavishly for a few lifetimes.  Maybe, just maybe, he should consider an early retirement so he''d have the opportunity to enjoy it.

 Not a Chapter - Power Classification

    Power Classification


    There are two types of power classifications.  That used for powers with measurable range, quantity, and quality, and that used for powers which have no measurable form.


    Measurable powers are classed 1 through 9, while immeasurable powers are classed by the number of variations.  Some powers have mixed aspects of both, leading to a sub-class, and other powers have both active and passive variants of the same power.


    It is important to note that the measurable powers are not divided arbitrarily.  Such powers seem to fall into distinct quanta, much like electron orbits, and once a certain threshold is reached there is an instant jump to the next level.  The levels also distinctly undergo a growing exponential expansion.  There could distinctly be more than 9 classes, but in all known powers the 9th class is the highest humans are capable of reliably measuring.  It is actually a lower level for some powers.


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    Example of quantized power:  Brick


    Brick-1 - 1000 to 2100 pounds


    Brick-2 - 3000 to 6300 pounds


    Brick-3 - 8000 to 16800 pounds


    Brick-4 - 20,000 to 42,000 pounds


    Brick-5 - 100,000 to 210,000 pounds


    Brick-6 - 600,000 to 1,260,000 poundsStolen story; please report.


    Brick-7 - 10,000,000 to 20,100,000 pounds


    Brick-8 - 250,000,000 to 525,000,000 pounds


    Brick-9 - 3,000,000,000 to an assumed 6,300,000,000 pounds (highest reliable measurement in story''s world is 5 billion pounds)


    Brick-10+ - ?


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    Example of a passive/active power:  Brick


    Someone may have a passive Brick rating as low as Class-0, but can actively increase their strength up to Class-9.  In such a case, they would be rated Brick-0/9.  Though usually the active and passive don''t differ by more than 4 levels.


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    Example of non-measurable power:  Truth Reader


    The Truth Reader is a slight misnomer in that they really only determine if someone is telling the truth as they perceive it, therefore ''belief''.  However, there are three distinct known levels.


    Class-1 - Can tell if someone is speaking the truth


    Class-2 - Can tell if something someone has spoken or written is the truth


    Class-3 - Can compel someone to speak the truth (i.e., they can''t make you talk, but if you talk or write it will be the truth)


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    Example of a power with both measurable and immeasurable aspects: Telepathy


    The measurable aspect of Telepathy incorporates both range and number of minds that can be simultaneously accessed.  The quality aspect has no exact measurement and determines how deep into another''s mind the telepath can go.  This is officially referred to as the Sub-Class, though it is more often referred to as the ''Level''.  Telepaths with Sub-Classes 4 and 5 are very heavily regulated and instinctually feared by everyone with less the Class-2 Psychic Armor.  Similar to passive/active powers, powers with sub-classes are indicated after the main, such as Telepath-5/3.  Each Sub-Class implies the lower Sub-Classes.


    Sub-Class-1 - Listener - can only hear surface thoughts


    Sub-Class-2 - Talker - can transmit thoughts to others


    Sub-Class-3 - Reader - can search another''s memories


    Sub-Class-4 - Puppeteer - can forcefully take control of another''s actions, relegating them to a mental prisoner


    Sub-Class-5 - Programmer - can re-write memories to completely turn a person into someone else.  Even a telepath of equal skill may not be able to undo such changes.  (i.e., a Programmer could have you slaughter your family with a smile and willingly serve your worst enemy as a slave.)